Distortion

The ocean, stretching to the horizon, shimmered dully in the sun, lazily rolling its waves. Somewhere very close, in the misty pre-dawn air, the gray shadow of a once-functioning laboratory loomed over a solitary boat. Lauren slid down, lay on the cold bottom of the boat, and tried to breathe slowly to calm the shivering in her whole body. The girl propped herself up on her elbows, rocking their means of transport, watching as the mist enveloped them in a thick cloud. “Can’t sleep?” James’s hoarse voice caught Lauren’s attention. She sat up, pulling her knees to her chest. “I can’t without the pills,” she looked at the gray block of concrete before them, just to avoid meeting his eyes. “I lie there pointlessly, and this water doesn’t even think of receding.” “Low tide should be soon,” Barnes wiped his fingerprints from the folding knife blade onto his pant leg. “Sure this is the place?” “Yes,” Lauren, propping her cheek with a fist, listened to the quiet rustle of the waves, until something began buzzing in the background, as if inside her head. She turned and saw a motorboat rapidly approaching them. “They have oxygen tanks.” “Better grab the collimator,” James tensed, trying to steady the boat while Lauren, kneeling, opened the rifle case. Her frozen fingers moved with difficulty, inserting the magazine and retrieving the optical sight from the case’s edging. “Better stay quiet,” bracing against the boat’s side, the girl froze, holding her breath. The boat rocked gently, causing the target on the now-stopped neighboring boat to sway up and down, wasting time. The girl clumsily pressed the trigger with her numb finger, and two heads ducked behind the boat’s side. “Let’s get to them.” Barnes started the engine, turning the boat toward the laboratory, while Lauren, leaning over the edge, turned into a bundle of tense muscles ready to fire again at any moment. Approaching the other boat, she knelt on one knee, stretching out as far as she could, and came face-to-face with the muzzle of a pistol. The shot rang out over the water, making all the life beneath freeze. “That’s it,” Lauren, blinking a few times, sank back to the bottom of the boat. She smeared the droplets of blood on her cheek with the back of her hand, still hearing the nasty ringing in her ears. Placing the rifle on her knees, Lauren squinted from the loud static in her earpiece. Reaching for it, she realized it wasn’t there. There had been no point in using it. “So concerned about my reputation that you gun down your own colleagues,” James, steering the boat, brought them to the almost-exposed entrance of the base. Lauren shook her head. “No,” she answered. “You and I are just toys in a box, and they’re not our colleagues. The difference is, the whole world knows you, and no one knows me. Wouldn’t surprise me if Valentina sent them after us to keep us from getting the Shard first.” “What about your service? You had freedom.” “I did.” “Valentina?” “Yes. Wiped me, remade me for herself, just to preserve the Shard’s power. One word from her, and I’ll forget everything again.” Lauren stood up, adjusting her jacket collar. Their boat bumped softly against the concrete floor of the entrance platform. “Enough wallowing,” she jumped over the side, landing on the wet floor. “We get the module and that’s it.” “Easy to say when you don’t know what’s behind the door,” James, hands on hips, looked at the iron sliding doors protecting the laboratory from the water. “We’ll find out now,” Lauren, slinging the rifle over her back, pulled a small rectangular metal box from her pocket. Approaching a small hydraulic door next to the main one, she covered the magnetic reader with the device. After a few seconds, a quiet whirring of internal mechanisms was heard, and the door unlocked. Pulling the heavy door open, the musty smell of mold hit their noses. “What was here?” James, pressing the rifle to his side, entered first. Sparks from gunfire illuminated the corridor, forcing them to crouch, but the man managed to disable the security turret with a return shot. “How should I know?” Lauren stood up nervously, even more irritated by the flickering emergency lights. “According to documents and maps, there’s nothing here. Rumors say some 'Project Phoenix.'” “The base is huge,” Barnes looked at the lab layout under time-clouded glass. “Where do we look for a tiny module.” Lauren shrugged. “Clearly not in the sleeping quarters.” “Are you really like this?” “Like what?” Lauren froze, running through possible answers to all potential questions in her head. “First, I think I see the real you, but a second later you’re a turtle back in its shell again.” “Aren’t you the same?” she saw his jaw muscles clench. “Ever tried opening up completely to someone, not just showing what you can? Right now we’re on a mission and need to focus on that, not chatter about childhood trauma.” “Maybe you’re right for now. But other days?” James persisted, unnerving the girl even more. “It’s like two different people are walking with me, both buzzing about my reputation.” “You could have refused, but all it took was poking your pride, and you signed the papers,” Lauren silently drew in air through her nose, trying to calm down. “This is my job, and I’m used to doing it well. Are we moving?” He said nothing but headed for the stairs. Lauren, exhaling, followed, feeling the tension stretching between them. She had even forgotten about the turret they’d encountered until she heard the crackle of aged gears. A sharp pain pierced her side, and a second shot illuminated the rusted turret in the dark corridor. “Super. Just great,” Lauren hissed through her teeth, clutching her side. “Who knows what’s stuck to these bullets.” “Breathe,” Barnes helped the girl sit, taking off his backpack. “Let me look.” “Feels like it just grazed,” she said with hands trembling from adrenaline, unzipping her jacket and pulling up her sweater. The bullet had passed at an angle, only scraping the skin and burning the edges. “Just needs disinfecting,” Barnes pulled antiseptic from the backpack, and Lauren clenched her teeth, knowing it would hurt even more. A few sprays of alcohol on the fresh wound, and the girl, bent over, clutched the edges of her jacket, trying to escape the pain. “This is why on a mission you need to think about the mission,” she exhaled as the burning sensation faded into the background.