8.

"No," I say, feeling indignant, "I will not answer your questions, I've only just begun asking you mine!"

He just told me that I had been kidnapped, had a chip inserted into my brain, and had all my memories taken from me, my whole entire identity.

I am in a stranger's body. This person who I am now, Ebony, is not supposed to exist. I am supposed to be chasing after that girl in the park.

A pang of longing squeezes my stomach.

Copper glances up from his clipboard at that moment, an intense look on his face. "What just happened?"

"What?" I snap at him, pissed beyond belief at my situation. Pissed that he is so damn calm while I am scrambling around mentally for any recognition of myself. But all I see is this blaring white room surrounding me.

This is me now.

"That feeling you just had, what triggered it?"

"I don't know, you tell me. You're the master of my soul, apparently."

He writes something in his notes.

"Could you stop doing that?" I growl. "What am I to you? Just an experiment? I'm a person!"

"You're a Shade," he says simply. "Now, I want you to rant off a series of five sentences." My face is as blank as this room. When I say nothing, he gives me one of his rare look ups from his notes, expectant. "Arbitrarily," he grunts, waving his hand as if I need a visual to understand.

"Why do I have to do that?"

"Just do it. Start at one."

I loll my head back, letting out a defeated sigh. Then I smile, thinking at random.

"One-- Copper is a massive psychopath."

He writes this down, unfazed.

"Two-- I'm convinced that Copper is a robot."

The corner of his mouth twitches, in annoyance or amusement, I have no idea.

"Three..." I'm running out of ideas and steam, so I just say, "... I wish this room was filled with memories of who I was."

I notice that Copper goes to say something, but thinks better of it. I let it go, just wanting to get this over with.

"Four-- John likes potatoes. Five-- Jane likes Popsicles."

Copper pauses his typing. He is careful not to look up at me, but I see the way his shoulders straighten ever so slightly. "And why did you choose those names, in particular?"

I cock my head at him, leaning back in the chair. "I don't know... John and Jane Doe? They are no one and everyone at the same time."

"You and your metaphors."

"That wasn't a metaphor."

"You connected yourself to them. That is a metaphor. This is a good thinking habit. It demonstrates intelligence, ways to link new ideas together, a mind that can adapt to new paths."

"More neurons for you to manipulate."

"I can't tamper with your neurological processes, but I can slow or speed them up. Even destroy them."

"Thanks for the reminder. Are we done here?" I tap my fingers impatiently.

"No. Now, think of a color. What is it?"

"White."

"Don't be lazy. Think."

I groan, irritated. "Yellow."

"Why that?"

It's her favorite

"Who knows? It makes me happy, maybe."

He nods, seeming to accept this answer.

"Why do you do this, Copper, if you aren't a robot? No decent human being would be a part of this. And how have you projected yourself into my dream?"

"I am a mere data projection of myself. I have stored the memory of myself into your recall so that in R.E.M sleep, I am a stimulated thought your brain will use to fill in your dreams. Through your chip, we are connected in sleep."

"So you're sleeping. Thank God, I thought you were a basement dweller somewhere in the world who wears pajamas all day and kidnaps women..."

He bites the inside of his cheek in thought, then shakes his head. "I liked you better when you were scared."

"Yeah? Well I liked you better when I thought you were a mental disorder," I sneer at him.

To my surprise, he brings a hand up in an attempt to hide a laugh, pretending to rub at his nose while going over his notes.

Hmph. Copper is not a robot after all.

"So, I'm a Shade. Were those other people -- the ones who were asleep back in the industrial building-- were they Shades as well?"

"Candidates. Only one was going to be the new Ebony. You all met the physical qualifications, but we needed to see if you could escape intelligently and follow instruction." He sets the clipboard down, folding his hands in front of him, suddenly a lot more serious than he already had been. "All the others were compliant with their Sync, the way S.H.A.D.E prefers their agents to be. You were resistant. That's why you ended up escaping with nothing but your skin in tact."

My cheeks ignite at the memory. The humiliation of that moment is still very fresh in my mind. "Well what would you have done?" I challenge.

"Exactly what you did."

I blink at him. "Huh?"

"For the past five years, my Shades have survived with my guidance to become the new Ebony."

"Are you bragging?"

He shrugs, then continues, " This is because I focus on two factors. One is my Shade's physical prowess. I hit the jackpot with you this time."

... I don't feel strong in the least, but I keep that to myself. "My physical prowess? You improve it?"

"Yes, I am a stickler for detail. Knowing everything about your physicality will help me calculate your chances and possibilities in any given situation. I have to know everything; your height, your weight, your width, your breast size, your --"

"Br-breast size? Why would that factor in?"

He rolls his eyes, "It is a detail, and I have to know all of them to ensure your success. I have already seen you naked, so I would think this would be a cake walk for you from here on out."

I hate him.

"Alright, whatever. What's factor two, then?"

"Every other Sync tries to work with their Shade, to meld their respective wills together. They wish to function with their Shade as a team."

"... And that's bad?"

Copper lifts his chin at me, utterly superior. "It's their mistake. This isn't a partnership. It's a dictatorship. When you have the opinion of two minds, things tend to get counterproductive. Only one mind should be in control."

"And you want to be the one at the helm? Well, you've got another thing coming, buddy."

He smiles. He thinks I'm funny.

"See, your resistant attitude might be bad for a Sync who wishes to work in tandem with their Shade. You are an Ebony, so your fire is a great quality to have, and it also means that I can work well with you."

"What, why? You just said you didn't want to work as a team."

"We are alike. Therefore, I know how to push you and what you are capable of already."

That seems like an almost intimate thing to say, as if we have been best friends for years or something when this relationship is the complete opposite. 

"Well, that's enough for one night, I would say." He stands out of his chair, about to dismiss me and shatter this place, no doubt.

"You haven't even answered all of my questions." I cross my arms, remaining seated, though I'm sure our departure from this place would be, much like everything else, out of my control.

He looks down at me for a beat, then responds, "You get one question, and I may answer."

Just one? I squint in thought. There is so much that I want to ask that I can't even remember it all. After a moment, I finally settle on a worthless question. "Why are you called Copper and why am I called Ebony?"

This question appears to be not what he was expecting, and that twitch goes off in the corner of his mouth again. A smirk? A nervous twitch? I cannot pin this guy down.

"That's simple enough," he replies. "You are Ebony because it is the most intense shade of black, the most intense shade in the entire Swatch. This makes sense, because an Ebony performs the most intensive missions for the group."

"You people really love your color references. Swatch. Like, really?"

"I don't choose the terminology."

"Okay, then I suppose Copper was not your pick either. So why are you called that?"

"That actually was my pick."

Oh. Interesting.

"And why's that?"

He taps the clipboard against his thigh in contemplation, then finally utters, "Because Copper is the taste of blood."