Episode 5

As I slowly regained consciousness, I was plunged into a deep darkness, a shadowy veil that enveloped my senses. Little pools of light danced around me, so diffuse that at first they made it hard to discern any shape or detail. 

My eyes blinked repeatedly as I struggled to adjust my vision to the shifting shadows.

As my senses acclimated, human forms began to emerge from the darkness. 

Strange outlines came to life, revealing a group of people, each distinct and mysterious in their appearance. One of them appeared to be wrapped in dark clothes, with eyes that sparkled like distant stars. 

Another had blue-spotted skin, which contrasted sharply with the black hair that fell to his shoulders. But what shocked me was when I saw the man who had blocked my passage at the subway station. His eyes stared at me, making my heart race, the memories of the dead and the fire began to spread throughout every corner of my mind.

In the midst of the overwhelming panic, my ropes revealed themselves as cruel claws, mercilessly binding me to the unfamiliar chair. My heart sank as I desperately tried to move my arms, only to realize the terrible truth: I was unable to.

"FUCK! NO! NO, NO, NO!!" I shouted, my voice echoing through the claustrophobic darkness.At first, my attempts were clumsy and frantic, my fingers desperately searching for any gap. I writhed and writhed, my hands balled into helpless fists, and I even tried to use my teeth to nibble at the bonds.

"LET ME GO! RELEASE ME NOW, YOU FUCKERS!" I yelled, my shrill voice expressing my anger and panic.

But with each effort, the chair continued to hold me captive. Reality was harsh and cruel, and my expression of despair intensified with each failure. Powerlessness knocked me down all at once, making me fall helplessly onto the cold, dirty floor. It was a scream of frustration and fear that tore through the oppressive stillness, echoing in the darkness of the gloomy place.

"No, no, no! It can't be! Zoey, where are you?" Sobs escaped my lips as I stammered the question between screams. "Please, let me go, I just want to know if my sister is okay! Someone... Anyone, help me!"

Tears of helplessness began to stream down my face, silent witnesses of my anguish. I had to find a way to escape, a way to find out where I was, and what had happened to my sister. But for now on, I remained tied up, the feeling of being completely vulnerable made me even more terrified.

My desperate plea echoed through the darkness, but only icy silence responded. The man on the subway, with his imperturbable gaze, remained motionless. I was a prisoner, and there was no visible hope.

It was then that a man in a suit, with a distinguished appearance, made his entrance. He looked fragile, yet he radiated an aura of superiority. His dark, impeccable suit contrasted with his fragile appearance, as if he were a sheet of paper at the mercy of the winds.

The small spotlights, which were initially diffuse and scarce, turned out to be small holes in the walls that allowed weak lighting, which varied over time. The rays of light penetrated the darkness, casting unstable shadows on the faces of those present.

He approached me with slow, limping steps, when he got close, he bent down and carefully raised a hand, beginning to wipe away the tears that were streaming down my face. His touch was surprisingly gentle, creating a strange contrast to the frightening environment around us.

But what caught my attention the most was his metallic hand, a steel implant, making his hand a raw piece of cold metal and little wires that connect. His touch, although firm, was cold against my skin, awakening a feeling of discomfort and strangeness in me.

"Don't cry, dear." he whispered, his tone soft but carrying a strange authority. "There's no need for tears here. We mean you no harm, Violet."

My gaze flickered between the man in the suit and the others, my mind spinning in despair. As I tried to muster the courage to speak again, the icy touch of the man's metal hand brought a fleeting feeling of discomfort. Although he was kind, his frightening appearance and gaze reminded me of something non-human, something that didn't belong in the world I knew.

His face, slender and pale, stood out even more because of his striking white hair, and his eyes were like mirrors for the tears I was shedding, reflecting my fear in a disturbing way. They emanated an aura that could not be ignored, seeming not to belong to an ordinary man, but to something more sinister and unfathomable.

"What do you want from me?" My voice shook as I tried to maintain a shred of courage. "Why me?..."

"We're sorry for the way we brought you here," the suited man spoke softly, his voice echoing with a piercing calm. As he stood up, his eyes flicked back to the man I'd seen on the subway. "He can be a little rough at times, but it was necessary."

The black-haired man just let out a growl in response, his gaze still fixed on me, as if he was evaluating every move I made.

"Please, try to understand, Violet," the man in the suit continued, turning his gaze to me. "We're here to help you, not hurt you. If only you could trust us..."

I swallowed hard, fighting the wave of fear that threatened to engulf me. Those cold, calculating eyes, that sinister smile, didn't give me confidence. But the man in the suit seemed genuinely concerned, and something about him made me want to believe him, if only for a moment.

"Who are you? What do you want from me?" My words came out in a shaky whisper, filled with distrust and apprehension.

The man in the suit lowered his head for a moment, as if gathering the courage to reveal something important.

"We are the Misfits, Violet. We are the ones that society despises, throws in the gutter like we are trash. But we have a purpose, a mission," he continued, with a mixture of determination and bitterness in his voice. "Society wants to take everything from us, crush us like insects. We've been spit on and kicked our whole lives, but in the midst of this damnation, we found our purpose."

As he spoke, I could feel the intensity of his words, filled with resentment and struggle. The cruel reality of social exclusion and marginalization echoed in each syllable, as if it were branded into his own skin.

He approached me, his expression softening into an apologetic gesture. "Sorry, my dear Violet, for leaving you there," he murmured, as he lifted the chair I was sitting on. He then began to untie my hands, his nimble hands moving carefully.

As he worked to free my hands, his eyes wandered to the ropes that bound me, and an expression of displeasure crossed his face.

"Phoenix was rough tying those ropes," he commented, his tone revealing outrage at the other man's brutality. "Look at the bruises he caused. He clearly doesn't know how to be a gentleman with a lady."

Returning his attention to me, he continued, his voice thick with meaning, "And you, Violet, you are the key to the next step in this mission. We need your skills to help more people like us, to make a difference in the world that rejected us, to reach out to those who have never been seen or helped before."

"Violet, can you help us?" he asked, his voice thick with urgency and expectation. Before I could respond, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the room.

A short man of Asian origin entered, wearing a blue jacket and a black beanie. His steps were confident, despite his smaller stature, and his expression determined. He approached the man in the suit, who immediately straightened up, fixing his tie.

The newcomer leaned over slightly and whispered something into the suited man's ear, who frowned in response, before nodding in agreement.

At that moment, the man in the suit looked at the watch on his wrist, his expression becoming tense. 

"But unfortunately, it's too late for us to discuss this now. Everyone needs to rest, including you." he said, his voice sounding worried and hurried. It was clear that something had changed, something that required his immediate attention.

Before I could fully process the situation, a feeling of alertness swept through my body. Instinctively, I felt a firm hand grab my shoulder with determination, but I resisted the urge to turn back, keeping my focus on the conversation in front of me.