Content Warning (see in-line comments for details)

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21 OCT 27AE

Camilla was in her room, working on a report on her last training mission, when there were three sharp knocks on her door. The knocking was more of a formality than a necessity, as all of the Academy dorm rooms didn't have locks, so Camilla returned the respect by actually walking over to open the door instead of using her abilities. It was probably better that she did that, as the visitor turned out to be one of the Headmaster's personal guardians.

"Miss Camilla Wyatt," the guardian said seriously. "You have been summoned."

Camilla didn't bother to stifle her irritation. The last time she was summoned by the Headmaster, it was because she was being ordered to see the school's psychologist. The time before that was to welcome her back to the Academy, and the time before that was to inform her of her expulsion over her lack of meta-abilities and impending budget cuts. It was unlikely that anything good would come out of these summons as well.

She was already dressed in her uniform, so all Camilla had to do was save her progress on her report before she wordlessly followed the guardian.

There was no point in trying to ask what she was being summoned for; the guardian wasn't going to tell her, and Camilla would find out soon enough anyway. Instead, Camilla focused on bracing herself for the worse and reminded herself that she couldn't show any sign of weakness, no matter what. It helped that the route they took passed dozens of students, and Camilla could practice acting indifferent as the students watched her with either admiration or disgust.

When they reached the door to the Headmaster's office, there was another guardian waiting outside. The two guardians nodded once at each other, and the one escorting Camilla took up their assigned post at the opposite side of the door. Both of them paid no attention to Camilla now that she was where she needed to be. Camilla found their stoicism to be inspirational and did her best imitation of it as she knocked on the office door.

The door swung open instantly, but no one was on the other side. Of course, how could the Headmaster be bothered to stand up and open the door for a lowly student?

But Camilla knew the Headmaster didn't see her as just any other student, and this was just another ploy to try and get her to cooperate. And she wasn't going to let that happen.

"You wanted to see me?" Camilla asked as she strolled into the office. She waved a hand by her head to push the door closed with her abilities, doing so gently to show-off her control.

The Headmaster's brows furrowed slightly at Camilla's blatant disrespect, but she didn't comment on it. Instead she gestured politely at the chair on the other side of her desk. "Yes, Miss Wyatt. Have a seat."

Camilla sat. She also let herself slouch in the chair, then propped an elbow on one of the armrests so she could hold her head up with that hand.

"I'm happy to hear that you've been attending your biweekly sessions with Doctor Stein," the Headmaster continued, her eyes tracing Camilla's terrible posture.

"That makes one of us," Camilla said. She's already made it blatantly clear that she wasn't a fan of the mandatory therapy, but it wouldn't hurt to make her opinion even more obvious.

"And after several discussions," the Headmaster continued, ignoring Camilla. "I believe we've come to a consensus.

"I think we all can agree that you are a very gifted student in terms of your abilities. Unfortunately, your attitude is appalling. And, quite frankly, it would be an embarrassment to the Org to have someone with your personality serving as a full-fledged guardian."

"Why, thank you," Camilla interjected.

"As you are now, the Org is hesitant to accept you into their official guardian ranks. Not only would your presence pose a threat to the public's trust in us, but we could also risk our credibility with the UN and potentially the entire world. Fortunately, we have decided on a way where you could have one more chance."

The Headmaster picked up a piece of paper on her desk and flipped it around to face Camilla. Of course, Camilla couldn't see it from her seat, so she was forced to sit up straight and take the paper herself. But even after she read through it several times, she still wasn't sure she was understanding it correctly.

"What... what is this?" Camilla asked, only barely keeping the worry from her voice.

"An ultimatum, Miss Wyatt," the Headmaster replied, a smug smile slightly visible through her stoic expression. "Doctor Stein should have your prescription just about ready. You will take it as directed, and assuming that it works as intended, you will graduate at the end of this school year and become an official guardian of the Organization."

"And I'll be drugged out of my mind," Camilla added. She felt like she was going to be sick. How would this be any different than living with her mother? Except instead of being influenced by words, she would be controlled by chemicals.

"You'll maintain all of your abilities," the Headmaster clarified. "You'll just be... more pleasant."

"You mean I'll be high."

The Headmaster shrugged coolly, her earlier formalities gone. "At least you'll be free."

"This," Camilla said, waving the paper, her voice close to shaking, "isn't freedom."

Narrowing her eyes, the Headmaster leaned over her desk. "Would you prefer the alternative, dear? You'll graduate from the Academy but get rejected by the Org. They won't even offer you a spot on the support teams. You know what happens to metas who don't comply with the Org's rules, don't you?"

The Headmaster leaned back in her chair and tilted her head. "Better start living in your bathroom, Miss Wyatt, because that's how big your cell's going to be if you don't sign that."

Camilla knew that the Headmaster could see the fear on her face, but she couldn't help it. If she signed that paper, she was guaranteeing that she would spend the rest of her life with her mind clouded by drugs and unable to think for herself. And if she refused, she would be labeled as an enemy to the Org and arrested as a threat to the community.

If she had known this would be her fate, she would've been better off staying at home with no meta-abilities and doing whatever her mother told her. She would've been miserable, but it was better than these alternatives.

But it was too late to go back now. Her abilities would have emerged at some point anyway, and even if she could go back and change how she acted, these people didn't deserve that. If they wanted her to cooperate, they were going to have to work for it.

Camilla just hoped that her drugged-out self would have the same ambitions. If there was anything about herself that she was confident in, it was her stubborn attitude and cheeky mouth, and maybe both would be persistent enough to stick around. At least, that's what Camilla was counting on as she took the Headmaster's pen and messily signed her life away.

The psychologist came in a minute later with a small paper bag and a folder of papers, looking irritatingly pleased with himself. He explained to Camilla what the intended effects and possibly side effects of the drug were, and gave her the folder that apparently had more information. She skimmed through the papers, more to hide her uneasiness from the Headmaster than to actually read them, but something did manage to catch her attention.

"Wait," Camilla interrupted the psychologist's ramblings. "This drug isn't publicly available?"

"It could have potentially dangerous side effects for non-metas," the psychologist explained. "Even Class 1's might have problems."

"Like what?" Camilla asked, suddenly wishing she hadn't been stupid enough to accept this before getting all the information.

"For certain people, the drug's intended temporary effects could become permanent," the psychologist answered. "But that's only because their metabolism isn't high enough. So you'll have nothing to worry about, right, Doctor Hester?"

The Headmaster nodded in agreement. "As a Class 4, your body is more than capable of handling the recommended dosage. In fact, we might even have to increase it."

"But we'll see," the psychologist added. "For now, we'll just start with twice a day, one in the morning, one in the afternoon. None before you sleep though; it'll be like if you drink a cup of coffee before bed. And you don't have to take any on your days off. You may need to take one after any exceptionally strenuous activity, since that could burn the rest of your dosage right up. But again, we'll see."

"We can revise the agreement once you become an official guardian," the Headmaster added. "If everything works out, you'll only have to take enough for the time you're on the clock. We'll let you stay sober on your own time, even if you're in public, as long as you behave."

"Right," Camilla agreed, just wanting to get out of there. She held out her hand for the small bag. "Anything else, or can I leave?"

"Of course there is," the Headmaster said, as if it was obvious. "You'll be taking your first dose here, and expect random drug tests in the future so we can make sure you are abiding to our agreement."

It was like they wanted to make her life as difficult as possible.

"Fine," Camilla said, keeping her hand out. "Let's get this over with."

The psychologist gave her the bag, and Camilla took a pill out from the bottle inside. It was a small, unassuming white tablet and it had no identifiable markings.

The Headmaster filled a glass with water from a pitcher on her desk and offered it to Camilla.

"Bottoms up," she said with a smile.

Camilla wanted nothing more than to force the pill and the water down the Headmaster's throat, but she knew it would be a pointless and pathetic show of retaliation. So instead, she kept a glare focused on the Headmaster as she accepted the water, swallowed the pill, and opened her mouth to show that the pill was gone.

"Now is there anything else?" Camilla asked, placing the water glass firmly back on the Headmaster's desk and forcing some of the water to slosh out in the process.

But the Headmaster didn't seem to mind. Why would she? She had won.

"That will be all, Miss Wyatt," she said smugly. "You're dismissed. Just don't go throwing it up now," the Headmaster warned Camilla's departing back. "You won't want us to start using injections."

Camilla made it back to her dorm room in record time, too furious and restless to walk at a normal pace. As soon as she was inside, she nearly threw herself onto her bed, wanting nothing more than to shut the world out. Her life as she knew it was gone, and now she didn't know what to expect.

When she was with her mother, she was miserable, but at least she knew to keep her standards low. Camilla had known that life as a guardian meant heeding to the Org's needs, but at least she thought she could have moments where she didn't have to listen to anyone but herself. But now that wasn't an option; instead, she just traded in one prison for another, only to avoid a literal jail cell.

At some point, Camilla must've fallen asleep, because she suddenly woke up with a jolt. She wasn't sure what had woken her up exactly, but all she knew was that she was starving, and she had heard a rumor that the kitchen had been cooking up enchiladas for dinner. She loved enchiladas. She loved the mess hall and the food they cooked up. She loved food. She was so hungry.

Camilla rushed out of her dorm room as she checked her watch. It was only a few minutes after six, but there was probably already a long line. Her stomach didn't want to wait any longer than it had to, so Camilla had the air lift her up and fly her to the mess hall. She was a little wobbly at first—maybe she was hungrier than she thought—but she soon found her balance and landed at the back of the line for the mess hall, right before a group of fifth years who had just arrived.

"Whoops!" she exclaimed as she stumbled a bit on the landing. "Sorry, I'm just super hungry. Is it true they have enchiladas tonight? I love enchiladas."

Unfortunately, the group of fifth years could neither confirm nor deny the rumor. All they could do was stare at her in shock.

"Well, you guys are no help." Camilla turned around and tapped the shoulder of a scrawny boy in front of her. "Hey, are they serving enchiladas tonight?"

The boy who turned around looked oddly familiar, and he too stared at her in shock. At least he had the decency to answer her question.

"I—I think so?" he said, almost stuttering.

Camilla narrowed her eyes at him. "Do I know you?"

The boy visibly gulped. "You, uh... you gave me some of your raspberry sorbet a few days ago. A-after you saved my lunch."

"I see..." Camilla vaguely remembered the interaction, but she definitely remembered the sorbet. She loved their raspberry sorbet.

There was nothing better to do in the long line, so Camilla chatted with the boy while they waited. He mentioned his name at some point, and Camilla forgot it immediately after. She had no intention of being his friend, but at least he provided some entertainment for the meantime, and Camilla was energetic enough to keep up a conversation.

She got bored after they got their food though (and it was enchiladas, thank god), so she wandered off with her meal tray in search of a table to join. Camilla was the only seventh year so she searched out the next closest students in age.

A bunch of sixth years were packed onto a couple tables, and Camilla eagerly went to join them. She recognized all of them from the training missions, and most of them were pretty weak, but they should at least be able to keep her entertained for a meal.

"Hello, everyone," Camilla greeted in a sing-song voice as she set her tray down in the corner of one of the tables and slid onto the bench. "The food looks delicious, doesn't it?"

Most of the sixth years merely replied with dumbfounded looks. Really, could they get any more pathetic? Thankfully, at least one of them was sharp enough to answer her simple question.

"Uh... not really," the girl across from her said.

Camilla shrugged. "Well, we all have our own opinions. Even if they're wrong."

She dug into her dinner, savoring the taste of the kitchen-cooked meal. It was delicious, as always, but it would taste even better with some hot sauce. Camilla pointed at the closest bottle at the middle of the table.

"Hand that over, will ya?" she asked, covering her partially full mouth with one hand.

The students sitting closest to it only gave her blank looks and not the hot sauce she needed.

"Or not," Camilla grumbled.

Whatever, she could get it herself. She focused on the bottle and urged the bottle towards her hand. Except at first, the bottle only rattled a bit in place. Huh. That was weird. Camilla sighed and tried again. This time, the bottle jumped off the table and flew quickly into her hand. Much better.

As she sprinkled the hot sauce on to her enchiladas, one of the students at the middle of the table spoke up.

"What the hell are you doing, Wyatt?" he asked.

Camilla took another bite of food before answering. "Eating."

"You're messing with us, aren't you?" the boy continued. "You're mad that we filed a complaint about you again."

"Now why would I be mad about that?" Camilla asked. The only thing she felt was hungry. And maybe a little jittery.

"Just ignore her," a girl chimed in from the other end of the table. "That's what she always does to us."

"Aw, come on," Camilla whined. "I don't ignore you guys all the time."

That was a complete lie, but they didn't have to know that.

"Bullshit," the girl said. "You go out of your way to act like we don't exist."

Well, apparently they were sharper than they looked.

"It's nothing personal," Camilla said innocently. "It's just... well, all my classmates are dead. I would hate to get to know you guys, only to watch you guys die soon after."

The girl stood up angrily, hitting her meal tray as she did. "You fucking—"

"Chill out, okay?" the boy next to Camilla said to the girl. "She has a point. We lost some of ours too, remember? We're lucky to still have each other." He turned to Camilla. "But really, why are you being friendly all of a sudden?"

That was a good question, and one that even Camilla didn't have the exact answer to. Because she suddenly felt like it? That was too vague. Because she was bored? That was true, but probably rude.

Camilla shrugged. "I figured I should get to know you guys before I graduate. Unless you don't want me to..."

She didn't care less what they thought; if they didn't want her anywhere near them, then fine. No harm, no foul. Camilla would find someone else to entertain her.

The boy looked around at the rest of the sixth years, probably looking before any objections, before turning back to Camilla. "It's fine."

After a few awkward moments of silence, the group picked up their conversation from before Camilla had interrupted. Apparently, they were discussing plans to take a day trip to one of the nearby cities on their next day off, but they hadn't decided where just yet. It was a bit boring and trivial in Camilla's opinion, but she listened in to their discussion and offered her own opinions every once in a while, even though they never asked for it.

Camilla left after she finished her pudding dessert, not really interested in what the group would decide on. She was about to head back to her room, but the only thing waiting for her was her bed and a half-finished mission report, neither of which were intriguing. Instead, she headed straight for the training grounds; hitting and blowing up stuff should be entertaining enough.

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A bright light was shining directly at Camilla's face, and even with her eyes closed it gave her a throbbing headache. She groaned and turned away from the light, but the pain in her head persisted. Groggily, she rubbed the spot between her eyebrows where the pain was the worst and willed herself to sit up to get some water.

She felt like she was hungover, or at least how she expected a hangover to feel like since she had never been drunk in her life. But she had, apparently, been high enough that she blacked out. At least, that's what she assumed happened. She wasn't sure what time or what day it was, but she couldn't bring herself to care when she felt as miserable as she did.

After a minute, Camilla assured herself that the pain in her head wasn't going away anytime soon, and she braced herself before cracking her eyes open.

She was in her room, but the place was a mess. There were clothes strewn across the ground, along with the blankets from her bed that she was sitting on. A half-empty pizza box sat open on the floor by her desk, right next to her open laptop and her pillow. Even the clothes she was wearing were a mess—her shirt was backwards and her shorts were inside-out. She was even wearing a sock, but only on her left foot and it was actually a hand glove.

After she kicked the glove off her foot, she stumbled over to the bathroom sink to get some water, leaving the lights off for the sake of her throbbing head. Her mouth felt fuzzy as she gulped the water, and she felt nauseous as it went down, but she forced herself to drink it and refill her glass. Camilla drank the second glass while sitting on the closed toilet lid, not trusting her legs to keep her upright.

At some point, she must have drifted off, because she woke up to the feeling of falling. She snapped to her senses and instinctively directed a gust of wind to push her back upright onto the toilet, catching herself before she could hurt herself on the tiled floor. Her headache persisted, so she drank the water that she had surprisingly managed to hold onto and carefully went back into the main room.

Her body moved on autopilot as she cleaned up the mess around her. She paused at the pizza box, recognizing the restaurant as an establishment unique to San Francisco. It was a popular hangout spot with her classmates from middle and high school, but she had never been allowed to go there for herself. But apparently she had last night, even though San Francisco was at least an hour away if she flew. The pizza inside still looked good, and Camilla wasn't feeling as nauseous, so she ate a slice as she continued tidying up.

Camilla paused again when she got to her laptop on the floor. After plugging it in and starting it up, it appeared that she had tried to finish her mission report while under the influence. Granted, the report did make sense, but Camilla doubted the team leader would really care to read Camilla's opinions on the music that had been playing on the store's intercom at the time.

She groaned when she looked at the time. The report was due in ten minutes, and she was in no condition to finish the report properly. Fortunately, or not, when she opened her email to ask for an extension, it turned out that she had already submitted her current version at five in the morning. Camilla sighed, closed her laptop, and walked over to her bed to throw herself on it, fully intending on going back to sleep, regardless of her schedule for the day.

Except when she collapsed on the bed, she felt something digging into her stomach. Irritated, she dug it out to glare at it, only to see that it was the small paper bag that she had received the day before. Camilla titled it back and forth slowly in front of her eyes, and the pills rattled against the bottle inside.

At that very moment, she suddenly felt a burst of anger, and she wanted nothing more than to open her window and throw the bag outside. Maybe she would even set it ablaze and aim the fireball at the Headmaster's office window.

But that would do nothing except make her seem like a petulant teenager, and she was better than that. She got herself into this mess, and now she had to deal with the consequences. Maybe one day she would be able to figure her way out of the hole she dug for herself, but now wasn't the time. For now, she needed to grin and bear it, with an emphasis on the grinning part.

Camilla sat up and pulled the bottle from the bag and slowly opened it, then carefully shook one of the white tablets into her palm. But after she picked up her water glass from her bedside table, and was just about to take the pill, she hesitated.

For how long would she have to do this? She only just got through one night and she already felt sick of it. From her foggy memory, Camilla could recall fleeting moments of thrill and ecstasy, but she knew they weren't real, and that only made things worse. And if she had to experience that for years? Camilla wasn't sure how long she could last.

But she didn't really have a choice, did she? It was this prison, or another, she reminded herself. It was either this semblance of freedom, or none at all.

With that in mind, she determinedly tossed the pill in her mouth, followed by a sip of water, and swallowed.

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NOTES

Fun fact: This story was initially supposed to be written from Camilla's POV.

Spoiler (not really): More of Camilla's POV is coming up in the near future.

Also, there are some characters here that will become important later on.

On a related note, there is something in this chapter that alludes at what will be revealed in the future. Vague, I know, but here's a hint: if you saw something that seems like a misuse in terminology, then you are absolutely correct.

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Thank you for reading, voting, and commenting!