"Two minutes until touchdown," The pilot announced. Though this statement was meant for himself, not the man sitting in the rear of the plane. The passenger didn't show much interest. Instead, gave an unnoticeable nod as his eyes wavered from the window.

The plane rocked, causing Benedict Marquerink to stiffen and clutch at the bag on his lap. He struggled to hold in the contents of his stomach as it threatened to spill out.

His eyes roamed the land many miles beneath them. Large stretches of white frosted mountains took up as far as Benedict could see. Miniature from the bird's eye view that he had but large in span. It was beautiful, as nature always was. He'd have to remember to admire it more once they had landed.

"We'll start our descent now, Agent Marquerink."

He gave the pilot a shaky wave and hoped that he understood that Benedict agreed with this plan. Were he not so desperate to land, he might have told the pilot to turn about and take him home. He was in no way prepared for the type of job this trip entailed. It wasn't any different from what his usual duties were. However, he had been treading on thin ice recently.

"Agent Marquerink?" His eyes refocused, fixing on the soldier standing before him, "Are you alright, sir?"

"Yes." Benedict answered. Somehow they had landed while he was consumed in his thoughts. "I'm not much of a flyer, I'll be fine once I get my feet on the ground."

The soldier gave a good-natured laugh, "I'm sure you'll get used to it once you've made the trip a few more times."

"I hope not," Benedict retorted.

He disliked the idea of more trips to Area 92 being in his future. Though he had little interest in explaining his statement when the soldier gave him a questioning look. The only reason he was there was because unwanted eyes had turned his direction within HQ. Making it very hard to do function. He'd have to be very careful if he didn't want to get caught. No mistakes or it would reveal him for the Undesirable that he was.

In his years in the field he had come to understand that being a rat in the government was a death sentence. More difficult than he had been led to believe. It was best to keep his nose to the table and get his work done as quickly as possible. Area 92 was not the place to get caught, after all. It was the place that his 'kind' got locked up. Still, there was nothing to worry about as long as he was careful.

Most working within Area 92 thought there was a nobleness to their work. That the inmates they kept locked away within the compound were a threat to society. Benedict didn't want to be the one to rain on their parade. The fact was that most of the people locked away had no interest in injuring anyone. He knew because he was actually one of them, not that he'd tell them that.

"So, tell me, what does a man have to do to get a cup of coffee around here?" He asked, passing his bags down from the plane. Clambering down the ladder, Benedict made every effort to not climb back up and demand to be taken home. Instead, he shivered and turned with a joking smile to the soldier. "Or maybe some thermal underwear... fuck, it's cold here."

"Well, most people know to pack more than their best suite, sir." The soldier removed a thick jacket from a bundle of supplies and passed it to Benedict. "This cold will remove your dick - or any other limb - if you don't wrap 'em up properly."

Benedict cursed his neglect to check the climate of the area before. He had packed a bit too light for the occasion and hoped that the men of Area 92 had any extra gear they'd be willing to share. Even his puny snow gear did not seem enough for the sub-degree weather that he was now enveloped in.

"This is your first time at this location," the young lad stated. He gave Benedict a once over before sticking out his hand. "Jonah Blance. It's nice to meet you, Sir."

"Benedict Marquerink," he took the lad's hand in his, careful to only grip the cloth of the gloves Jonah wore. "How'd you know?"

Jonah shrugged, "You can usually tell by the way people pack. If you had been here before, you'd have brought more than that."

He gestured to the three small bags. They were being stuffed amongst other supplies that had been flown in with Benedict.

"Well... it's to be expected that the head of Area 92 is an observant man." Benedict said. They ushered him into the front seat of a car. "Though you're much younger than I had anticipated."

"'Fraid I'm not the man you think I am, Sir," He brought the engine to life as he gave an amused shake of his head. "Commander Switchson is waiting for you at the compound."

Benedict nodded. Surprised that this Commander Switchson had not come to greet him. The Commander must have been busy.

He had heard that the head of Area 92 was a strict man. Not only was he a ruthless toward the inmates but he also had no patience for those under him. It was a tight-laced location because of this. Easily the best Undesirable facility in the world. The inmates that came to Area 92 were never heard from again.

"So you're the sorry soul that got sent to pick up the outsider?" Benedict shifted nervously as the car rattled. Jolting and sliding on what he thought was a patch of black ice. Jonah was too busy waving his hands to even worry about the unusual movements. It must have been common.

"No, Sir! I volunteered," He stated. "S'not every day we get new faces up here. Let alone someone from the Governmental Undesirable Control Department. What with having our own specialists on base, n'all. Y'know? So I was a bit curious t'see how special ya'd be."

If only Jonah knew how 'special' Benedict was. He wouldn't be so inclined to chat with him if he had.

"Have I disappointed you yet, Mr. Blance?"

"No, sir. Though you ain't as intimidating as I thought ya'd be."

The airstrip was high in the cliffs of the Valley Area 92 was in. Some co-workers had warned him about the road down. They had been very under-dramatic. While the airstrip was a thick plateau off the rock face, the road was barely enough for one car to fit. It also lacked any sort of rail to keep cars from going over the edge.

Benedict clenched all his muscle as Jonah drove, speeding along as he chattered. He thanked every star in the sky the moment they finally reached the foot of the mountain. The winding road behind them. He felt his knees wobble when he exited the car, doing his best to not drop to the ground out of courtesy to Jonah.

"It was an honor, sir." Benedict nodded. Holding back the vomit edging up his throat as Jonah scampered around the car. "Do you mind if I shake your hand once more?"

He had met many people that had interest in his work. Some even called him a national hero because he was part of the G.U.C.D. None seemed so captivated by him than Jonah. It was for this reason that Benedict shrugged. Holding out his hand before rethinking the situation.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

With excited eyes, Jonah slipped off his glove. Then took ahold of Benedict's hand. It being too late for him to retract his answer. Benedict was forced to watch the impending skin contact with inward horror.

"They look so..." His voice trailed off, eyes scanning the people below from the platform he stood on. Women, men, even children eating and talking as if this was a normal day. The room, made of metal and stone with no windows, was meant to be another way to keep them trapped. They went about their business though. Shuffling around with trays in the bright fluorescent lighting.

"Normal?" The voice came from next to him, "Yes, Mr. Blance, they do. It's what makes them so dangerous."

He shivered, he had never seen one - an Undesirable- but now he was standing above a room full of them.

"Are they... dangerous?"

"Oh no, not here." Jonah turned toward Commander Switchson as the man spoke. "We've advanced far enough to render them completely harmless."

Despite the reassurance, Jonah still didn't feel safe. He couldn't believe they could be completely harmless. No matter the advancement in technology.

"You understand my skepticism, sir?" The Commander looked like he was on the edge of amusement. "They are monsters, after all."

Benedict released Jonah's hand. He knew that everyone reacted to Undesirables was different. It always bothered him when someone felt fear. Jonah was friendly, but the sight of a room full of Undesirables had him shaking. He might have gotten over that fear or it had morphed into hatred. Benedict could not bring himself to meet the lad's eyes as they said farewells and he headed inside.

They are monsters, after all.

Inside the door were two soldiers who searched Benedict. He was careful not to make skin contact with them. The uneasiness from Jonah still lingering in his mind. It was clear the people here had strong feelings for Undesirables. Being one only made Benedict tense.

They - Undesirables - weren't all that different from 'normal' people. It was the difference of a gene; one that allowed them to access a part of the brain that Norms couldn't. His connected with the memories of those he made skin contact with. Previewing important memories like a slideshow. The longer he made contact, the more he saw. The older he was, the easier it was to view more in the seconds touch that he shared with his unwilling victim.

"Agent Marquerink?" Commander Switchson called, coming down the hall to retrieve Benedict from the doorway. Benedict knew it was him from Jonah's memory. Tall and white-haired with a scar running from forehead to jawline down the side of his face. It gave him a menacing look. He also knew to be very conscious around him.

"I've heard you have a particular case. I'm hoping I can help."

"I'm hoping you can, son." The Commander slapped Benedict's shoulder in welcome. "Name's Rolph Switchson, Head of all units within Area 92."

The Commander motioned for Benedict to follow him down a hall to an awaiting door. It was a heavy metal, a sign that once Benedict had passed through it there was no going back. He shivered. Waiting with the Commander as a series of noises signaled that the door was being unlocked. A loud buzz sounded and the Commander pulled open the door for Benedict to pass through.

"This is the dining hall." The Commanded stated, motioning Benedict through the door. It opened up to a platform overlooking a large room. Benedict recognized it as the one from Jonah's memory. He took in the black metal and windowless room with unsureness. "It's put to use every two hours as different groups come to eat."

"Different groups?"

"Yes, based on their Deformations."

Benedict nodded. It was probably easier to control them if they were separate. That way they could concentrate on those particular genes at one time. "It's easier that way."

"Well, that is one way to do it." The Commander's chest puffed, waving his hand out in the direction that he wanted Benedict to go. He imagined that the Commander didn't have the chance to brag about the success of his compound often. He very rarely left and visitors were scarce.

"The dining room is the topmost floor of over five hundred." The Commander explained, leading the way toward an elevator. Benedict allows him on first, following after as he listened to the man's smug talk. "The whole compound is around three miles deep. Impressive, isn't it?"

The elevator was picking up speed. They pass through a patch of what Benedict assumed was rock. Then, with a surprising brightness, the space in front of them opened to a large cavern. It stretched out like a thin panel of inward facing shelves. Only it was floors and floors of metal platforms and empty mouthed rooms staring out at them.

"No bars?" Benedict muttered. Such little measures were being taken. All to keep the prisoners inside their respective cells.

"No need. We've got them all tagged with devices that inject enough Tiletamine in their system to put them to sleep." The Commander pointed toward some of the cells. "They can't leave due to monitors on the inside of the doorframe. It triggers the tags if they try to leave during any time other than regulated breaks."

As much as Benedict feared the establishment he was now in, he couldn't deny that it was impressive. He couldn't help but wonder why they needed such measures against Deformed though. They could have been using this to keep the lowest of the low out of the open, but instead, they had Undesirables. He supposed that to Norms like the Commander, Deformed were the lowest of the low. There was a whole department dedicated to the control and capture of Deformed, after all.

He was, at the moment, a common control agent. He traveled to different Institutions. Ensuring that the security was at it's highest. Of course, being a rat, he also ensured that there were big enough gaps in the system that his employers to slip in and out. He was happy being a low-level agent, but he heard rumors about being stuck to a compound soon. Benedict prayed it wouldn't be Area 92.

"Is there a fault in your system, Commander?" He asked as the elevator finally slowed and stopped in the hall much like the ones above ground. Two awaiting guards checked them both before allowing them off the elevator.

"Not one." The Commander stated, leading Benedict down the hall.

"Then why exactly am I here?" They paused in front of a door, which the Commander opened to reveal an empty room. He was almost concerned that the Commander had somehow caught onto him. Planning to lock Benedict up in the room. The panic disappeared when the Commander motioned him inside. He pointed at the window on the left wall.

"You're here because of her." Benedict's eyes caught onto the new face as Commander Switchson spoke. "Inmate 52673." She was inside the adjoined room, chained to a table like an animal. Her brown hair was back enough to reveal the bruised right cheek and swollen right eye. She looked thin too. This girl had been through a lot the past few days.

"What's her deformation?" Benedict asked, taking the girl's file. Her name was Darcy Perch. A muscle manipulation deformation made her another face among the average Undesirables. "Super strength isn't usually seen as a threat anymore since we've been able to counter it. Why's she here?"

"She's a transfer from Colbert, actually." The Commander took a seat at the desk behind Benedict. "She's involved with a successful breakout."

"Well, it wasn't very successful if she's still here." Benedict tossed the file onto the table, removing his jacket as he prepared to meet with Miss Perch. "It's happened before from the look of the bruises."

"Yes, you'd think so. Except it seems she has picked to to be here." Benedict froze, turning to look at The Commander. "She and her accomplices were home free, but she stayed behind for some reason. The others escaped." Benedict turned wide eyes toward the girl in the other room. She didn't look like much. In fact, her file said she wasn't even twenty yet. To think that she had chose to stay behind.

"That doesn't make sense."

"No, it doesn't."

"So you want me to find out what her deal is?" Benedict tapped his chin in thought, "And where her partners went. That's not an easy feat." Benedict heard a chair squeak behind him and the sound of footsteps as the Commander came to stand next to him.

"That's why you're here, Agent Marquerink." His hand came down on Benedict's shoulder. "Do you think you can do it?"

Benedict didn't answer, thinking about the various people he had dealt with before. He had investigated a large number of cases. Never before had he seen someone with a clear chance of freedom give it up. It made him curious about Darcy Perch's motives. His hand almost itched to grasp her arm, to understand. He wouldn't be able to though, not yet. He knew he'd have to take it slow with her if he wanted to help Darcy in any way.

The question wasn't whether he could break her, but whether he could break the system trapping her. The system here was unbreakable. If he found out what she was looking for he had no doubt that she'd cooperate with him. He'd have to talk to his friends in the resistance, tell them about her. She'd be valuable if she did, in fact, have anything to do with the breakout.

She was like a riddle. One that Benedict wanted to solve.

"Don't worry, Commander Switchson." Benedict gave the Commander a smile. "I know just what to do with her."