Page 10 of Cruel Master
I try to think logically. If someone set this room up for me, they went to a lot of trouble. If they wanted me dead, I’d already be dead. I stare around the dungeon again, trying to imagine the work that must have gone into it. Weeks of effort. If they planned on keeping me drugged, they could just have thrown me into a locked room.
Decision made, I throw my head under the stream and drink. God, it’s good. It tastes like it came from a mountain lake. Am I really under a mountain? I can’t be, surely. But it makes about as much sense as anything else.
I’m panicky, but I don’t think I’m as scared as I should be. If I’d woken in some dirty cell, I’d be crying my eyes out by now. This is just too weird. I’m waiting for some TV prank show host to jump out and yell “Surprise!”
But that won’t happen. If I was on a hidden camera show. I wouldn’t be naked.
The implication of that hits again, deeper this time, and oh yes, there’s the fear. I let my thoughts slide away from it, not willing to go there yet. I look down at my body, and the stockings set off a sudden ripple of rage. I put these on for him. That fucker. This has to be his doing. Right?
I rip them off and throw them onto the floor.
The cold water sloshing in my belly brings my other problem to the fore. If I don’t do something, I’m going to piss myself. Christ on a fucking bike. I can’t have that.
I stare up at the corners of the room, searching for cameras but finding none. It doesn't mean they're not there, though.
Why didn't I design this room with a fully stocked bathroom? And maybe a minibar? The thought carries the edge of hysteria, and I stare at my hands, willing myself not to fall off that cliff just yet. One problem at a time.
Pee into the stream. It’s cleaner than a traditional toilet and paper, I tell myself as I perform the awkward operation. And, I discover as I clean myself off, a lot fucking colder too. I could have designed this so much better. Two streams, one heated.
Of course, I never knew I’d be coming for a visit.
There it is again, that cliff. A hysterical knife edge waiting for me. Now that my immediate bodily needs are handled, my mind is far too free to wander. I scan the room again.
The chest.
I’d been too distracted to check it. I head over and remove the lock, letting it fall to the stone floor with an ominous thunk.It opens with a creak so perfectly creepy it might as well be sampled from a horror movie. How? How is everything in here so precise?
I peer inside and gasp. Instead of empty space, I find a food pack. Exactly like you collect in the game. This one is the basic pack—bread and a thick slab of cheese wrapped in cloth. Even the bread looks authentically old school, with a thick, grainy texture that didn’t come from Walmart. Underneath, though, there’s a note. I snatch it up.
Enjoy your meal. I’ll visit soon.
Master.
Chapter Four
Hadrian
Theurgetorushin is almost overwhelming, but I don’t. I want her to stew for a while longer. She needs time to explore her prison thoroughly and discover it’s a perfect replica of her game in every way.
Once she calms down, she’ll notice the hidden touches—the arcane symbols stitched into the altar cloth, the shimmer I added to the frosted glass to make it feel more like a forcefield. I hope she actually eats the food, because the bread is authentic, made to a recipe from the 1700s. The kitchens must think I’m insane.
Maybe I am.
I’ve considered the possibility several times over the last few months. I still feel like a logical person, but even I can see that what I’m trying to do carries the tint of madness. I saw it on Jacob’s face when I explained my plan as we rushed to Kendrick’s office last night. He’s seen a lot, and even he was shocked. I’m sure people are already talking.
Once Kendrick, Jacob, and the Gilda rejigged the capture plan, Kendrick sent me on my way but asked Jacob to stay.I’m sure I was the topic of discussion. Sebastian’s face when I surprised him in my mask in Medical told the same story.
In this insane place where anything goes, I’m a cause for concern.
I’m sure it doesn’t help that so many people are terrified of Candice.
While some Brothers see her as an oddity, others, mainly those with a deeper understanding of artificial intelligence, see her as a threat. They understand that, now that she exists, there’s no going back to a time when she didn’t. They see the danger she poses to the Brotherhood.
If Candice decides to expose us, we’ll struggle to stop her. I have checks and balances on her, of course, but they’re baby gates and she’s a teenager. She keeps our secrets because she wants to. She’s fallen in love with the Compound and the people in it, and is bonded to me as her creator.
Those who truly understand how fragile that control is are petrified, and with good reason. Even I don’t know how Candice will respond to Juliet. Talking to her about Juliet feels…awkward. Like it’s opening Candice up to a side of myself I don’t want her to see.
But even knowing all the responsibilities that I have to face, I can’t tear myself away from Juliet. I stretch out my hand and touch the tiny image of her on the screen. She’s mine now. I won’t lose her again.
