chapter five:
❛ the rainbow room ❜

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Scarlett's eyes fluttered open as El gently shook her awake. "We're here," El said softly, her voice breaking through the haze of Scarlett's dreams. Scarlett blinked groggily and peered out the window. Her heart sank as she saw the vast, barren expanse of the desert stretching out in every direction. They had arrived in the middle of nowhere.

Scarlett's instinct was to flee, but she knew she couldn't. She looked at the nondescript door in front of them, leading to what seemed like an underground base. The door was unremarkable against the stark, dusty landscape. "Come on," Dr. Owens said, flashing a reassuring smile. Scarlett exchanged a wary glance with El but followed as Dr. Owens approached the door.

He entered a code into the keypad, and with a heavy click, the door unlocked. The three of them walked inside, the cool air from the underground facility a stark contrast to the oppressive desert heat. They descended a metal staircase, each step echoing in the confined space. The basement was dimly lit, with exposed pipes and concrete walls giving it a utilitarian, industrial feel.

At the bottom, they encountered an old-fashioned elevator, its steel doors slightly rusted. As they stepped inside, Dr. Owens turned to them with a mischievous glint in his eye. "You didn't really think we were working out of a shed, did you?" he asked, amusement in his tone.

Scarlett shot him a skeptical look. "Obviously no," she retorted, her voice laced with annoyance.

Dr. Owens chuckled softly. The elevator jolted as it began its descent, and Scarlett and El stood close, their anxiety palpable. The elevator came to a stop, and the doors slid open to reveal a long, sterile hallway.

El and Scarlett held hands tightly, their nerves on edge. As they walked down the hallway, Scarlett's eyes darted around, trying to take in their surroundings. "You built all this?" El asked, her voice a mix of awe and disbelief.

"Built? More like gave it a facelift," Dr. Owens replied. "Do you two know what an ICBM is?"

Both girls shook their heads.

"It stands for Intercontinental Ballistic Missile," Dr. Owens explained. "It's a fancy bomb. We used to store them in these silos, but we haven't used this one in years. In fact, there's no bomb here at all. It's just a big ol' empty space now. So we repurposed it to hold something much more powerful than a missile: the both of you."

El's eyes widened in surprise. "Shit, that's cool," Scarlett remarked, a mixture of curiosity and apprehension in her voice.

They entered a large room filled with scientists, their white lab coats contrasting sharply with the dark, metallic surroundings. The scientists' eyes were fixed on them, some with awe, others with an intense focus.

"Anne, Tracy. Morning," Dr. Owens greeted.

"Morning, Doc," one of the scientists replied, their gaze never leaving the girls.

"You'll have to forgive the staring. You're a bit of a celebrity down here," Owens said with a smile.

"Huh?" Scarlett asked, confused.

"We are?" El added, her brows furrowing.

"Oh yeah. You kidding? You're bigger than Madonna and Cyndi Lauper to them," Dr. Owens said.

El glanced back as they continued walking. "They've all given up their lives, their jobs, their families to come work on this program because they believe in the cause. They believe in you two," Owens said, his tone earnest.

A door ahead buzzed, and they walked through it, Scarlett feeling an odd sensation of electricity crackling at her fingertips. They entered another room, and Scarlett's eyes were drawn to two large tanks standing side by side.

"We call them Nina and Stanisława," Dr. Owens said.

Scarlett approached the tank labeled "Stanisława" and placed a tentative hand on its surface. She could feel a faint hum, a strange energy emanating from within. "What is this?" she asked, her voice tinged with unease.

"If we told you, it would ruin the surprise," a familiar voice echoed through the room.

Scarlett's breath caught in her throat as she whipped her head around. Standing on the stairs was Dr. Brennar—whom she had been forced to call "Papa." A flash of memory from 1979 surged through her mind, the last time she had seen him. His voice, cold and authoritative, rang in her ears. "Seven, where are you going?"

Scarlett backed away, standing beside Eleven, who was glaring with a mixture of defiance and fear. "No fucking way. How..." Scarlett's voice trailed off, her breath shaky.

"Hello, Eleven and Seven," Dr. Brennar said, his gaze sweeping over them. Scarlett noticed the scar that marred his left eye.

"I know. You're frightened of me. Perhaps, in our time apart, you may have even grown to hate me," Dr. Brennar said, descending the stairs slowly. Eleven's glare intensified, while Scarlett's disbelief grew.

"I— I barely remember you," Scarlett stuttered.

"And you'll remember, Scarlett," Dr. Brennar said, his eyes hardening. He then turned his attention back to Eleven. "But all I ever wanted to do was to help you. And right now, I believe you two very much need my help. Your gifts have been stolen or are out of control. I believe I know why and how to get them back, and make them controllable again. Let us work together again. You two and I."

Dr. Brennar made his way towards them, placing a hand on one of their shoulders. "Daughters and Papa," he said, his tone almost affectionate.

Scarlett gave him a bewildered look. Eleven ducked under his arm and brushed past Scarlett, dashing towards the exit.

"Oh, okay. Leave me here!" Scarlett called out, rolling her eyes.

An alarm blared through the facility, the sound echoing off the cold metal walls. Eleven glanced back, her expression a mix of determination and fear, before continuing her sprint. Agents began to flood the hallway, chasing after her.

Dr. Brennar waved an agent over, who approached with a syringe in hand. Scarlett's eyes narrowed in concern. "What's going on? Are you gonna get El—"

Her question was cut off as the syringe was abruptly jabbed into her neck. A searing pain shot through her, and she felt her vision blur. Her legs turned to jelly, and she collapsed to the ground, the world around her fading to black as she slipped into unconsciousness.

Scarlett's eyes snapped open, and she found herself in a small, sterile room bathed in harsh white light. Her senses were overwhelmed by the clinical, antiseptic smell of the environment, and the stark, unadorned walls offered no comfort. She was lying on a bed, clad in a hospital gown that felt oddly thin against her skin. A cool draft grazed her cheeks, and when she touched her hair, she was met with an unexpected surprise: her once flowing blonde locks had been cropped into a short, pixie cut. "Aw man," she muttered under her breath, her disappointment palpable.

Struggling to steady herself, Scarlett pushed up from the bed and looked around the room with a growing sense of confusion. The room was eerily familiar—the same cold, utilitarian design of the lab she had known for so long. Above her, a camera was fixed in the corner, its lens unwaveringly directed at her. A surge of defiant rebellion took over her, and she flipped the camera off with a smirk, her gesture a small act of defiance in the face of this unsettling situation.

As she did, a faint blue glow caught her eye. It emanated from her wrist where her tattoo read '007'. The blue light pulsed rhythmically, almost as if it had a life of its own. Scarlett's unease grew as she realized this was not an ordinary situation.

With cautious steps, she approached the door and tentatively opened it. Peering into the hallway, her fears were confirmed: she was indeed back in the lab. But something about the atmosphere felt decidedly artificial. The sterile environment, combined with the eerie silence, contributed to her growing suspicion that this was a constructed reality.

A voice interrupted her thoughts. "Hello, Seven. How are you this morning?" A man with blonde hair appeared, his demeanor cold and impersonal. His uniform and posture suggested authority, but his lack of warmth made him seem distant.

"I'm— I'm good. What is going on?" Scarlett asked, trying to keep her voice steady despite the anxiety bubbling up inside her.

The man's expression remained unchanged as he brushed aside her question. "Let's get you into the Rainbow Room, Seven," he instructed, guiding her with a firm hand.

Scarlett followed him down the corridor, her mind racing with questions and fears. As they walked, she noticed the hallway's harsh lighting and sterile design, which seemed to contrast sharply with what lay ahead. They arrived at a door painted in bright colors, a stark deviation from the usual clinical environment.

When the door opened, Scarlett stepped into the Rainbow Room—a vibrant space filled with hues of red, blue, yellow, and green. The room was bustling with young children engaged in various activities, their laughter and chatter creating a lively atmosphere. Scarlett's eyes quickly settled on Eleven, who was among them, looking significantly younger than the last time Scarlett had seen her. Eleven was no older than eight, her innocent demeanor a stark contrast to the powerful figure Scarlett remembered.

Scarlett's gaze wandered to a large, reflective mirror mounted on the wall. The reflection that stared back at her was that of a young child—Scarlett at the age of eight. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks. "I'm in a simulation..." she whispered, her voice trembling as the weight of the truth sank in.

Her surroundings felt like a meticulously crafted replica of her past, designed to elicit specific responses. The bright, playful colors and the presence of a younger Eleven were jarring reminders of her own childhood. The mirror, reflecting her youthful self, served as a poignant reminder of how far she had come—and how she had been pulled back into a constructed reality.

As the man with the blonde hair continued to lead her into the room, Scarlett's mind raced with confusion and fear. She was determined to figure out the purpose of this simulation and how to navigate it. The sense of unreality and the disturbing familiarity of the lab combined to create a disorienting experience that Scarlett was determined to understand.

In the middle of the junkyard, the sense of dread was palpable. Harvey was a picture of anxiety, perched on the crumpled hood of a long-abandoned car. His eyes darted around, unable to settle on any one thing as he grappled with the reality of the situation. The vast, sprawling junkyard stretched out around him, a maze of rusted metal and discarded remnants, mirroring the chaos in his mind.

Mike, Will, Arygle, and Jonathan were a few cars away, their movements grim and mechanical as they worked to bury the body of Doorguy. The dead man, who had been shot multiple times, lay still on the ground, a stark reminder of the violence that had erupted in their lives. The dirt around him was disturbed, evidence of the hasty grave they were digging.

Harvey's panic reached a crescendo as he watched them. He jumped off the car, his boots hitting the ground with a thud, and rushed over to Mike, his face flushed with fear and frustration. "Harvey, man! Are you gonna help us?" Mike's voice, usually calm, was edged with urgency.

Harvey shook his head vigorously, his hands tangling in his hair. "Ho—how can I help you guys right now!? I should be home! This is so messed up! This dude probably has a family, kids, guys! We need to go to the cops with this! Lay it on them! Your superpowered girl, and ex-girlfriend, bad government dudes, the upside-down dimension planet thing—" Harvey's voice rose in pitch, a jumbled mess of fear and disbelief.

"No!" Jonathan, Mike, and Will shouted in unison, their voices cutting through Harvey's frenzy.

"I don't, man, I'm freaking out too, and he sounds pretty right!" Arygle's voice was tinged with panic as well, reflecting the collective tension of the group.

Harvey's hands gripped Mike's shoulders, his eyes wide and pleading. "But listen! The bad government guys are after your super girlfriend and your super ex-girlfriend, right? So maybe the cops can help us find out where she is! 'Cause they're gonna kill them—"

Will's face was set in a tight line of frustration. Without warning, he grabbed Harvey's face and delivered a sharp slap. The sting of the contact snapped Harvey back to reality, his eyes blinking rapidly as he tried to focus on Will's intense gaze.

"You good now?" Will's voice was calm but carried a weight of concern.

Harvey blinked, his breath coming in quick gasps. "Sorry for freaking out..." His voice was small, almost apologetic, as he tried to regain his composure.

Will's expression softened, and he offered a reassuring smile. "It's okay, Harv. This is a lot to take in."

Harvey sank down onto the dirt, his shoulders slumping as he tried to steady his breathing. The vast expanse of the junkyard seemed to close in around him, the sense of confinement matching the tumultuous emotions roiling inside him. Jonathan and Arygle's voices faded into the background, their argument becoming a distant murmur as Harvey lay back on the ground.

The sky above was a dark canvas, the setting sun casting long shadows across the junkyard. Harvey's gaze was fixed on the sky, his thoughts spiraling as he tried to make sense of the madness. The clouds drifted lazily, an ironic contrast to the turmoil below. As he stared up at the sky, the enormity of their predicament settled heavily on him. He felt as though he were trapped in a surreal, nightmarish reality, with no clear way out.

"This is insane," Harvey muttered, his voice barely audible against the backdrop of the evening air.

Mike and Harvey sat side by side on the dusty hood of an old, rusted car in the junkyard, the fading light casting long shadows around them. The tension from the earlier chaos had settled into a quieter, more introspective mood. Harvey, still trying to come to terms with the surreal events, turned to Mike with a question that had been on his mind.

"So, Mike," Harvey began, glancing sideways at the other boy. "How did you and Scarlett meet, anyway?"

Mike's face softened at the mention of Scarlett's name, a wistful smile appearing on his lips. "It was through school. She transferred to our school just a few days before Halloween two years ago. I remember it vividly—I fell in love with her the moment I saw her."

Harvey raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Why don't you ever tell her that directly? I mean, you don't say it enough."

Mike's smile faltered slightly, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. "How do you know I don't say it enough?"

Harvey shrugged, looking a bit sheepish. "Scarlett and I have talked a bit. She's mentioned that you've never really said it outright."

Mike sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I don't know when I'm gonna see her again, and it scares me. I'm afraid she might think I don't actually mean it."

Harvey nodded, sensing the weight of Mike's words. "I get that. But why do you always sign letters with 'From Mike' instead of 'Love, Mike'? You know, like how she signs hers with 'Love, Scarlett'."

Mike's gaze dropped to the ground, staring at the dirt. He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. "I don't know, man. I guess it's just... it feels weird to put it in writing. I want to say it, but when it comes to actually writing it down, it feels like it might come off as insincere. I don't want to say something and have it not mean as much as it should."

Harvey studied Mike's face, trying to understand the underlying emotion. "So you're worried that if you write 'Love, Mike,' it might not come across as genuine?"

Mike nodded, his expression a mix of frustration and vulnerability. "Yeah. I want to tell her how I feel, but I keep second-guessing myself. It's like every time I try to put it into words, I just end up overthinking it."

Harvey sat in silence for a moment, processing Mike's words. The air was heavy with the unsaid, and the weight of their situation seemed to amplify the intensity of the conversation. "Look," Harvey finally said, breaking the silence. "Maybe it's better to be straightforward. Scarlett obviously cares about you a lot. I mean, she talks about you with a lot of affection. Just saying it directly might be more meaningful than you think."

Mike looked up, his eyes meeting Harvey's. There was a moment of quiet contemplation before Mike spoke again, his voice tinged with a mixture of hope and apprehension. "Yeah, maybe you're right. I just hope when I do see her again, I can tell her how I really feel, without all this doubt holding me back."

Harvey gave Mike a supportive nod. "You will. Just remember, sometimes it's better to take a chance and be honest than to keep it all bottled up. She's a great girl, and she deserves to know exactly how you feel."

Mike managed a small smile, appreciating the encouragement. "Thanks, Harvey. I guess I needed to hear that."

As they sat in the quiet of the junkyard, the sky above them turning darker, Mike felt a sense of relief. The conversation had given him something to hold onto—a renewed sense of purpose and a clearer understanding of what he needed to do when he finally reunited with Scarlett.

ASH SPEAKS!

i already miss scarlett and mike together 💔💔 their reunion will be so soft

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