The door opened, slamming into the wall from the force thrust against it. Through it walked a man, dressed in an outfit that didn’t seem to fit the current world and time. After all, such a high-end brand of the past wasn’t something available in shops within the cities. Not to mention, it was a full three-piece suit, matching the image of a domineering CEO.

They looked down, away from the man who appeared to still be living in the past. Uninterested in such things, they barely paid attention as the man began to speak.

“One did something they shouldn’t have. One disobeyed orders.” There was fury barely contained in the voice as it slowly increased in volume. “What do you have to say for yourself this time?”

Unamused and silent, they didn’t even flinch as a hand landed obnoxiously hard on the table in front of them.

They looked up, unafraid to meet the eyes of the man they called boss. They weren’t the boss of them, though. It didn’t matter how many times they followed orders given to them. Some of those missions had aligned with their own goals, so they stayed docile in all areas except one, something that made the boss man particularly angry.

“Damn it!” he shouted, slamming his hand down again on the table with a painful sounding slap. “What got into your head, huh? Going through some kind of hero phase?! Last time we had this conversation was four years ago! For that damn retreat you called!”

They didn’t have to say a thing. Their lip twitched. Unable to hide that small beginning of a smirk, the boss’s rage at them only grew to violently uncontrollable levels.

“You’re smiling? Huh? Laughing?”

Even the guard standing at the door flinched at the closed-fist impact that closely followed those words. Had the chair not been secured properly, it would’ve fallen to the floor with its occupant.

They felt a sting on their cheek and lip. Their tongue darted out over the corner of their mouth, tracing over the wound the man had made with one of the rings on his knuckles. The metallic taste made them close their eyes briefly. They heard the rough panting and puffing of the man, listened to the sound of their dress shoes landing on the tile floor as he stepped away.

Their mouth opened slowly with their eyes, words exposed to the air before the man could turn and carry out his anger on the others in the room, the doctor and the staff in charge of the one in the chair.

“And what will you do?”

The man whirled back to them, lifting his hand to teach yet another lesson to one who just wouldn’t fall into line properly. It had been years, and they still defied him.

“I ought to–”

“I wouldn’t do that again,” they said grimly, unflinching at the prospect of being hit once more. “I wouldn’t hit the face, if I were you.”

Fuming, the man’s hand shook, raised high in the air. The hesitation only lasted a short moment, as he pulled back yet again, ready to throw his own body back down at them.

“Will you get rid of me? Hm? Can you afford it if I get hit one too many times in the head?” They took a slow breath, their eyes meeting those of the boss, still determined, defiant, and yet, there wasn’t a thing that could be done to stop them, not as the next words were said. “What if I… forget?”

The air in the room seemed to freeze as they fought a war with one another. One had leverage. And the other, had lost theirs unknowingly, hours ago.

The man’s hand slowly lowered, his face twitching with words and actions held back. After all, how was he to know they cared for the Ghosts? Enough to get them an escape? And now he had not one of them left in his clutches or dead.

He was losing.

They were winning.

And to the man, the boss, it was the worst possible outcome.

“Throw them in the tank again unless they talk within the next five.”

Stalking to the door of the room, nursing his non-physical wounds, the man paused, just inside the doorway before giving a piece of advice.

“I’d speak up if I were you. There’s something special cooked up this time for you.”

As they moved to leave, a gentle voice called out, light and unburdened, supported by the smallest of smiles.

“And why would I do that?”

Gritting his teeth, he looked back at the nuisance in his clutches, the one he was desperate to get rid of, if only he could. The one smiling so serenely in a chair as a single drop of blood rolled down their cheek toward their jaw.

“You crave isolation that much,” he sneered.

The grin on their face grew.

“Ah, being in the company of sanity,” they crooned sarcastically. “Sounds quite lovely.”

“No food for the next three days.”

The reply came instantly, without mercy. Their smile didn’t fade immediately, as the thought of being hungry for a few days didn’t really mean much to them. It wasn’t like it hadn’t happened before. But as their gaze drifted to the floor, their mind thinking of other things, their expression growing solemn.

However, Doc, having not spoken up this whole time, shouted in alarm at those words.

“But sir!”

“You heard me.”

There was no room in the man’s voice for debate or question. It was an order, one that had to be followed, despite the risks.

“Yes, sir.” Doc replied quietly, bowing his head in submission to the will of another.

“And what would your son say about this, I wonder?”

Gaze still trained on the floor, they heard the curses growled under the man’s breath as he left, slamming the door shut behind him. Only after it closed, did they look up at it. The others in the room might’ve wondered if they’d gone too far with their words, but they owed that man nothing, not even for their own life, not for the heart beating in their chest or the oxygen filling their lungs.

They did nothing as the restraints were lifted, simply allowed the staff to take them down the hallways, one after another. It was a familiar path. There was no use in resisting anyway. They always ended up there, no matter what they did. Like clockwork.

As they entered the large room, full of those giant tanks, they passed the empty ones, heading right to the other end, the overhead lights showing everything on the path there. Forgoing the mask they usually put over his face, they led him up the steps on the side and dropped him into the liquid.

So this was the ‘special’ he was talking of, they thought to themselves, how unoriginal.

Above them, a cap was placed on the tank, locking them in, preventing their escape. As they held their breath, those who came in with them left, the lights shutting off as the far door closed.

As much as they hated the process, hated everything about the tank, the liquid inside, what they despised most was spectators. Slowly, they inhaled, the liquid throwing their body into a spasm as it filled their lungs.

They weren’t sure if it was similar to the sensation of drowning, as they’d never been in regular water before, never gone into anything other than the perfluorocarbon tanks or pools. As they’d had to transition their breathing many times, between air and liquid, along with a forced alteration within their body, it wasn’t necessary to give them any specific treatment before or after.

It didn’t make it hurt any less to switch so suddenly.

The mask, kept the liquid from entering their body.

Special.

It was like he was laughing at them, telling them to talk or be in pain.

They opened their eyes, looking at the current at the bottom of his tank, feeling it on their leg. Breathing slowly, forcing themselves to stay entirely calm, as anything else only made it worse, their gaze drifted to the floor outside their cage.

It moved, inch by inch to the tank opposite of their own. Theirs wasn’t brightly lit, but that one was.

It always was.

Once their vision reached far enough, just to see the toes of the person floating in that tank, they stopped.

They closed their eyes and floated, haunted by a voice that whispered for them to look, to see more than just the toe, to lay eyes upon that which they refused to see. They curled in on themselves, letting the familiar sounds of the tank send them off to a quiet rest.

It was a lie.

The company of sanity?

They’d never once felt sane, not around the people here, not in their own mind. Half-wishing the world, either world, didn’t exist, they let a bitter and solemn feeling wash over them.

Until faces popped up in their darkness, one after another. They’d never met any of them, not personally, not in the world outside. It was planned.

They were never destined to meet those people.

Forever, they would be stuck here, unable to be free.

It was their burden.

But…

At least they got out. Their trackers were removed, not sending any more data regarding their vitals.

It was a relief.

The Ghosts would survive.

Adapt.

As they floated in that cold dark tank, they let their mind wander, back to memories of old.

Maybe that was the real torture.

Remembering.

Creak.

Clank.

Bue nudged her shoe against the letters on a rusted and torn sign of the old days, of what existed before the Facilities.

“N-Tow-K?” Her lip curled in distaste. “What was this place?”

They all gazed around, seeing the ruins of a world before theirs. A few piles of smaller stones from what once was a building, or at least part of one. Over off to the side, a metal box sat, crushed and half buried in the mountainside. While they trekked down to the flat ground, they dodged curved pieces of pipe that were bent, broken, jutting out of the ground in various places. A little cart with a torn seat. Gray rock covered the ground, in tiny and large pieces.

Lott knew, just from the remaining standing structure. She stopped, Magnice still on her shoulders looking around, and faintly recalled what it once looked like. It wasn’t that she’d been there, but she’d seen it from a distance.

People screaming.

Tall rides.

Laughter.

Excitement.

“An amusement park,” Magnice replied.

Bue looked around, having never heard of such a place. It wasn’t something that was taught. A forgotten piece of history that was left solely in the past. For twenty years, there were no such things like this place, except in the minds of those who recalled them.

“Amusement park? Sounds strange.”

Magnice gazed at the sign she’d nudged. The letters might’ve looked odd and unfinished, but he could tell what it had once been.

“Fun Town Park,” he said quietly.

He pointed up to the last standing structure, even half there, it got the point across. Metal rails, supports under and around it. And though it disappeared once it reached the peak, in his head, he could still see the Fun Town logo on the carts ascending to the top. All in his own mind, lacking reality.

“A cart holding passengers would slide down the rails.”

Everyone looked up at remains of a roller coaster with mixed emotions. Sarah had been old enough to know of them, but this didn’t look right to her. Hearing of the fun everyone else enjoyed had once made her desire such a trip. Maybe it was the rust, the broken metal or the awkward stance of the structure, leaning, as if it were pushed by a giant. She wasn’t interested any longer.

Exel and Slooky joined Bue in staring up at it in mild horror and confusion, heads tilted. Far too young to know. Far too young to remember such things.

And Lott.

She could see it, but not as it was currently. As it used to be. It wasn’t even remotely the same as she forced herself to see the truth of it. There wasn’t anything to say. An era had ended. The world was not the same as it used to be.

“Go in it for fun or for a spectator’s enjoyment?” Bue questioned eventually.

Magnice smiled sadly.

“For fun.”

Sarah met Lott’s eyes as she turned to look at Magnice. They had assumed they were the oldest of the current group, given that the age of the Captain was a mystery. In her mind, she faintly recalled him saying how old he was a few years back. It didn’t make sense. Someone born within a few years of the day of destruction wouldn’t know these things. The confusion only grew as she looked at his face.

Nostalgia.

Wistfulness.

“How old are you, Jack?” she asked, drawing him out of his thoughts with surprise.