FGI 8: From Chaos and Madness

APRIL

I pale.

“I know you have some cloaking going on with you, but Pierce never let me bring it up. Have you had past trauma? Is that why you hide behind the glasses and awful suits?”

I look away, knowing this day would come. “Pierce told you not to ask?” I glance back at her, intrigued.

That makes no sense.

“Yeah,” she frowns at me, “I always thought that it was weird, but maybe it’s company policy to respect trauma victims. I don’t remember what HR’s policy was back then. You know, you could have always talked to me.”

I take a moment as I ponder what to tell her. So many times I almost told Zoya—but I figured it mattered not. I put myself on the back burner for so many years that I didn’t care. “I—uh, what makes you think I have a cloaking spell?” My voice wavers, sounding pathetic.

Sigh, she knows.

Zoya gives me a dry expression. “I have seen you a handful of times without your glasses on and your face alters—your nose and mouth and cheekbones are different for mere moments. At first, I thought I was seeing things, but it happens every time you take off your glasses.”

I roll my eyes. “That’s because I’m Wonder Woman, silly.” I try a cheeky smile. Though, everyone knows glasses are a number one giveaway for cloaking effects.

“April,” she warns, clearly not in a joking mood. “What happened? Someone from accounting do something to you?!” She’s suddenly pissed, her eyes becoming intense. “You should have told me! I would have kicked their ass! Broke his dick in half!”

I hold up my hand to calm the crazy that’s escalating. “Wait,” I quickly say, “what did Pierce tell you exactly?”

Zoya clamps her mouth shut, then shrugs, still upset. “I don’t know. It was so long ago. I said something like “I think you’re using some sort of cloaking” and he just looked at me and said, “just leave her to it”~, or something like that.” Her eyes search my face. “So I thought to respect your privacy, hoping to one day bring you out of hiding.”

“Until now?”

“Yeah, I’m over it now,” she says forcefully, “so spill the beans before I give you my mean mommy voice.”

I bristle, no thanks.

But Pierce knew?

He couldn’t possibly, unless he just thought like Zoya did—trauma and let her just be.

“April?”

I look at her and take off my glasses, our eyes colliding. She frowns as she searches my face, reaching a hand out to touch my cheek.

“Weird,” she murmurs. “You look like yourself—but then you don’t.” She touches my nose. “It’s almost like my brain can’t interpret what I’m seeing.”

I sigh. “I know. I have had the cloaking spell since I can remember. It’s been so long that I think the spell is forever. Little bits of me try to come out, but I’m stuck this way. I think I’m cursed. Or something…”

“April, you’ve had this since you were little?! Wait, why?” Her eyes search mine, her brows furrowed. “Why?”

I swallow and laugh, looking up at the ceiling with a shrug. “Viveera Vega—I guess, I don’t know. It’s all confusing.”

Even as the words come out, I don’t believe it.

Zoya’s eyes slowly widen, and she smirks, then starts choke-coughing into her hand. “G-good one. But seriously—”

“I’m serious Zoya,” I say meekly, looking down at my hands. “Honest, even though I don’t look like it—except my eye color, I suppose.”

“Wait, what?” She asks, giving her head a shake. “You’re fucking serious?” Her eyes almost bulge out of her head. “You’re serious?! April?!”

“Yes,” I say again, feeling my cheeks heat.

“What the fuck?!” she says again, “like, what the actual fuck, April?!”

I shrug. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?!” She nearly screams and someone knocks at the door, making her clamp her mouth shut and twist. Taking a big breath, she gets up fast and runs to the door, schooling her features and fixing her hair. Zoya quickly glances at me before opening the door with her chin raised like a stern school mistress.

They watch Zoya like a hawk. Anyone she talks to is always monitored, and she is always followed. Which is why I call her by my rouge Darling necklace that’s not traced. I barely see Zoya in person, too risky with what I’m trying to do.

I want no eyes on me.

“I heard yelling,” says a man in a black suit with computer glasses on, tiny digital displays visible. Vincent’s black suits, we call them. He leans his head to the side to say something into his shoulder. “Copy that.” Then glances at Zoya expectantly.

“Sorry, but I’ve just been experiencing some female discomfort,” she continues, holding her belly. “Everything is sorted out. The pain is gone.”

His eyes narrow on her, then looks past her to me, appearing suspicious. “Female discomfort?”

“My period,” Zoya says forcefully, looking annoyed. “My blood ~flow~ is very strong and ~raging ~this month—”

The man instantly holds his hand up, blanching. He screws up his face as if he was in fact picturing the flow of a raging period. “J-just keep it down,” he gets out before leaving without another word, hearing the retreating voice of his radio.

She shuts the door and sighs, “Sorry. What a dumbass.”

I take a big breath and hide my smile. “Anyway,” I pause, “I was told this long ago, but I don’t believe it, to be honest.” I hold up my hands. “Look at me. I’m no rare.” I do hand quotations. “Viveera Vega.” I know I must have some blood, but how much? I’m unsure.

“You have a cloaking spell on you, April,” she says and walks back over to me, sitting down right in front of me. She leans in close, and I can smell the expensive perfume she wears. “Your eyes change color. I have always wondered where you were from—what district, but was always too busy and distracted to ask you.”

My eye color.

It’s the only reason why I still believe that I have Viveera Vega blood. “I have learned to live with it. It’s really not a big deal.”

She snorts, her pale blue gaze searching over my face. “April, this is kinda’ a big fuckin’ deal. It’s so like you to downplay yourself. What Gate did you get recruited from? How are you here?!”

I stare at her, not knowing much but FGI. “I don’t remember who put it on me or why I grew up here,” I admit, thinking hard. “I sometimes have nightmares and visions of long ago, but they never make sense. Only seeing a woman in my face telling me to hide or they will kill me. Telling me that if anyone noticed me, they would kill me. She was very scared and had pale white hair, bleeding from her eyes. She was telling me if they found me out, they would send me off to very bad people. Or I’d die or something. Or maybe it was some curse.” I look at her with a shrug. “I have always been employed at FGI—I grew up here as an orphan, like a lot of other children born into this. Then when I got old enough, I did a lot of research and found out what happened to the Vega. It was horrible, which I think traumatized me when I was younger.”

“April, that was a long time ago—it’s not like that now. The remaining Vega are protected at the high Celestial court and the Stations—within the fifth and seventh gates.”

The Celestial Gates of Serenity, the GOS.

“Yes, I now know that—”

A beeping sound emits from the waistband of Zoya’s pants, and she pulls out a little black pad. “Shit,” she curses looking down, reading a message on a small digital screen. “Dammit. I gotta’ run—must be a problem with the current mission. There’s always fucking problems—android agents do not work! They’re running Dion fucking dry. If we could quit, we would.” She looks at me, knowing the AI metal balls will never replace the quirky TP shifters. “We’re not done with this, by the way. And I’ll get you a meeting with Zora, but be warned. She is out of her mind.” She stands, taking a breath. “And keep a low profile from the black suits.”

Then she is gone.

It’s horrible how we have to live this way. Walking on eggshells every waking minute.

I also think about what she said. The remaining Vega are being protected within the seven Gates of Serenity. I doubt there are many left after my home planet was destroyed by an evil fae witch that was jealous of the only relatives of the unicorns. She, like so many before her, wanted to be the fairest in the land. A tale as old as time, repeated throughout the universe on a broken record.

Where to even begin?

Zuthea was the home of the mystical unicorns, and my people—allegedly. It was said that the rare unicorns used to be shapeshifters and went from horse to human form often. In human shape, they were stunning with their pearlized colored hair and multicolored eyes. Even their ethereal pale skin and graceful body lines made other fae races gape because of their beauty.

I read that they had this mystical power that many races desired and wanted so desperately that they were regularly hunted for breeding purposes. I’d imagine there were a lot of half-breeds at that time.

I look at my warm skin tone and chestnut hair hanging over my shoulder and wonder if it’s all an illusion or if I’m a half-breed, born out of violence. I do not know who my mother is, or father and I’d lie if I said that I was not scared to know. Every time I asked, I was only shooed away or given some lame answer about there being so many orphans at that time.

It bothered me a lot more when I was younger, but I’ve since gotten over it. I remember reading up on the history long ago, trying to find all the information I could. There were not a ton of facts that I could find, but apparently, over time, their shapeshifting abilities vanished or fizzled out by some nefarious force draining their power. That force was not documented, but it must have gained a lot of attention because it alerted the GOS and the UIA to step in. It left many stuck in human form, unable to shift back ever. So after that there was a permanent split—a shift and a separation.

Viveera Vega was the name given to the new race of beings that could no longer shift back into their unicorn form.

My race.

I guess.

I glance at the metal-rimmed glasses that lay on the chair next to me, drawing me to them. Whatever magic was cast over me makes me crave to wear the glasses, to be scared of my own shadow. A yearning to withdraw into the shadows and try not to gain any attention. When I say I hate people looking at me it is an understatement. I have always felt like that, but a part of me wonders if it’s me or the spell from long ago? It’s anyone’s guess at this point.

But this is not about me.

Now, I can finally rescue Pierce with his sentence being fulfilled.

That brings us to the Gates of Serenity and the need to understand and explain it. If I’m going to escape from here, I need to not make any mistakes and I need to know the layout of GOS. These seven gates control the Universe that employed the former FGI and the current Legacy Association as their means of balance.

There are seven major cities within the seven gates of time. This is how it was explained to me.

If you think of a clock and you lay it horizontally as if it were on an invisible plain in the Universe, it would act as a map of sorts of the GOS.

Where twelve o’clock is, that would precisely be where the first gate resides, the Genius Station. The Genius Station is a more industrial city, the underbelly of the GOS and power source.

Two o’clock is where the second gate is located, the Lore Station. I have never been to any of the Gates, but I hear that the Lore Station is very magical with lots of plants and vegetation within the city. A lot of different races of Fae reside here, I hear. All the cities I’ve been told have towering skyscrapers and staggering populations that help control the vast universe.

Four o’clock is home to the third gate, the Nova Station. Now this station from what I read is the Fashion city, lots of elegant nightlife and the main contributors to the FGI design department. They import fabrics and anything to do with fashion from around the universe. I know Pierce was constantly traveling to Nova to test out new ideas and work out better imports.

Now jump to the very center of the clock and this is Gate Four, the mighty terminal. To get to any of the gates, you must do so through the Ancestor Terminal, which is heavily guarded by the UIA and military. Every Gate is connected to the center port and to travel from gate to gate, it takes a lot of clearance.

You do not want to mess around at the Terminal.

No, no, no.

I have heard of people trying to fake passports and tickets and getting thrown into the GOS prison, which brings us to the next gate.

Jump back to the six o’clock position and that is Gate Five the Alpha Station. It’s the UIA headquarters and the military and where they keep the massive prisons. I shudder, remembering when they took Pierce to Gate 5, the maximum GOS prison. I know they treated him so violently before he was to go on trial. I heard rumors from Vincent’s men gloating about how they left him unconscious, naked, and horribly beaten. I didn’t want to believe it until I saw Pierce at the trial with a black eye and cut lip, having to lean on a crutch. My stomach drops, hating to think about the injustice. Those mother-fuckers. But he held his head high, and I admire him for it.

I admire that man more than anyone. “Everyone knows that, April,” I whisper with an eye-roll.

Eight o’clock is Gate Six, the Dogma Station. This is where everyone who lives in the GOS wants to be. This city is in the prime for technology and most of the partying nightlife for the rich and the royals from different galaxies.

I hear it’s wild.

It’s directly connected to Gate Seven at the ten o’clock position. This is the place I need to get to, and it happens to be the hardest. Home of the high Celestial Court and Asphodel Palace. It’s where the council resides and all the top ambassadors from a multitude of galaxies. This is where the rich and royals rule together in a massive city of space and stars. I have seen pictures, and it’s the most amazing sight to behold—the city of gods, they say. Towering pale pillars that reach up into vast amounts of space, having no clear atmosphere, just the view of the Universe.

So, we have Genius, Lore, Nova, Ancestor Terminal, Alpha, Dogma, and the Celestial Court.

EASY-PEEZY.

I take a steady breath.

Objective one: Find Pierce—alive.

Objective two: Infiltrate the terminal and bring Pierce back to the GOS. The plan? I’m still working on that.

Objective three: Somehow make it to Gate Seven and prove to the high court that their precious golden boy, Vincent, lies and cheats with Project Glass-Slipper. Then show the GOS that FGI needs to be restored with Pierce and all the TP shifters.

Yeah.

How the hell am I going to do that? No clue.

“Badass April will find a way,” I pep talk myself. I stand up with a new attitude and try to crack my neck, but nothing happens. I see cool guys do this all the time when shit is about to hit the fan. I grimace and place a hand on my neck. I just tweaked the left side of my neck with a painful strain.

For fuck’s sake.