I shuddered slightly as the masked man stepped forward into the room. He glanced first at me, then at the empty cot. He scratched the back of his head and gazed out the window. Then, again, I felt his glare sharpen on me, and I froze, staring helplessly into his brown eyes.

Then the masked man reached up and pulled off his mask. I let out a little gasp as I scrambled back. He couldn't...he wouldn't! But... My mind felt like it was close to exploding from questions.

"Gabe?" I whispered. The man certainly looked like my old friend. He had the same blond hair. He was just as tall. But there was something...well, wrong about him.

A few seconds later I identified it. The mans shoulders were slumped, and his whole body was hunched, like he was expecting an attack. His eyes were brown, instead of blue. He wasn't the proud, strong Gabe I knew.

"Who are you?" I asked, struggling to my feet.

"My name's Damian." The accent was different too. Maybe from England?

"Why am I here?" I questioned, hoping Damian would decide to answer the rest of my questions.

"We rescued you from the Institute and a few other groups who would love to see you killed," Damian muttered.

"I didn't need rescuing," I snapped, before wishing I could bite back the words. Damian's eyes flashed in anger, just like Gabe's would do whenever I really messed up.

"The Institute had plans to kill you. You were a danger to the group and you'd already seen to much of the outside world just to send you back." Damian pulled a folder out from inside his jacket and tossed it to me. I caught it and opened it, my hands shaking slightly.

It was true. The papers inside held a detailed order to "dispose of me." A few pages later it stated that my trainer, a Mr. Gabriel Dawson, had begged for another option, but he was threatened with loosing his job, so he shut up. The next page was a letter to Gabe, telling him to continue with the mission and get Ryhan, Atticus, and Aria to the Institute.

Was that really it? I was sent on a one time mission to bring in three more kids and they would kill me? Had that been the plan all along? What was the point of all those classes then? What about all the years they helped me? And Gabe too! Most of the other kids didn't have personal trainers. Why do it if they were just going to kill me? Why go to all this trouble?

But I couldn't believe this. The folder was just something someone decided to make up, to trick me. They did it to turn my against my home. But still...there was something about Damian that I couldn't ignore. I shrugged mentally. I could play along, and when things got too unbelievable, I'd loose the act.

I pushed my fingers against my forhead to stop a headache. I glared at Damian as he folder his arms across his chest, one eyebrow raised as he waited for me to speak.

"Why'd you do it then? Why rescue me?" I demanded. Damian nodded, as if satisfied with my question.

"We pulled you out to help us. We've been trying to shut down the Institute for years, and you might just be the key to bringing it to it's knees. They wanted to kill you because you're so valuable. Then you'd never be kidnapped and information taken from you."

"What are you talking about? What information?" I asked, my hands curling into fists and crumpling the folder. If Damian noticed, he didn't say anything, only shrugged. I paced the room, searching my mind for anything that could be considered important information to kill over. I turned back to Damian, finding the one thing that could be considered useful in my mind.

"My parents. Who are they?" I asked. Like my last answered question, Damian nodded, like I'd asked the right one.

"Your father was the creator of the Institute, or so we believe. After fifteen years of watching children die on missions, though, he changed. He realized what he'd created wasn't something that could help our world, rather, it'd destroy it.

"He began sabotage," Damian continued. "He burned hundreds of files and mixed up even more. His partners slowly discovered what he was doing and killed him. We are still unsure of when they did exactly. Your mother, on the other hand, was completely against the Institute from the beginning. She hated your fathers work, and we know she often argued with him. He wanted to put his three year old girl, you, into the program. Your mother refused completely. A few years passed and she swayed him to her side, and that's when he saw the errors he made."

"Stop!" I ordered, squeezing my eyes shut as I tried to block out my headache. There was too much information to take in. I couldn't understand. Damian was quiet, but he tapped his foot while he waited for me to think. Was this the point at which it got too unbelievable? No, I could listen a little more until I deemed his words lies.

"Ok..." I muttered slowly. "Sure. So. All that stuff happened. But then there was a fire, right? I didn't just make that up?" I asked. Damian shook his head. "I left. I was on my own. My parents died," I said in a small voice.

"Ahem, that's where you're wrong. They didn't die. But they thought you did. Your mother blamed your dad for everything, and your dad, frustrated and angry, left to try and destroy the Institute. He failed and we guess he must've been killed. Your mother, though, created our group. We've been working against the Institute, trying to bring it down for years. When we located you, it was too late and Institute was already training you. We couldn't get close enough to get you out, and it was too dangerous."

"Wait what?" I questioned. "Are you saying my mom's alive? Are you saying I went through all those years on my own, starving and homeless, when I could've been with my mom?"

Damian shrugged and gestured to the door, saying, "See for yourself." The door opened and a woman stepped through. Her hair was dark and long, like mine, but streaked with gray. Her eyes were green, flecked with gold, like mine. She was confident, and her gaze swept the room before settling on me with a smile.

"Hello again," my mother said.