#trey leclair

The first few moments are the ones I remember the most; I remember it all so clearly that it’s impossible for me to forget, even if I wanted to. It was like… It was like waking up from a deep, dreamless sleep, knowing you had somewhere to be - knowing you had something to do.

I remember opening my eyes for the first time. I felt tired, groggy, stiff - the way most people feel when they’ve slept in the completely wrong position the whole night. I remember standing in what felt like a small, dark room, but vast and empty at the same time. I couldn’t really tell you much else about it. Except for the mirror. A strange, cloudy pane of glass hovering just above the ground, its surface glowing and rippling like water, but not reflecting anything.

I remember hearing voices coming from the other side, but I don’t remember what was said - it was too muffled and too far away for me to understand. I remember feeling compelled to touch the mirror. Under normal circumstances, that’d probably be utterly suicidal, but at the time it felt completely reasonable. I remember placing my hand against the mirror, feeling the solid surface give way, and then stepping through. For a split second, my surroundings disappeared and it felt like I was falling, but the ground reappeared beneath my feet before I could.

And then suddenly I was somewhere else.

It was still a dark room, but it was definitely different from where I was before. There were other people there, standing nearby at the base of the stone platform that housed the mirror I had just stepped out of. I’m still not sure how I knew, but I knew they were the arrogant mage-types just from the way they carried themselves and the sensation of magic in the air. I’ll never forget the smug looks on their faces as they congratulated themselves on successfully completing whatever ritual had summoned me. It didn’t bother me at the time; I was too zoned out to really care.

Aside from the obvious nausea from being summoned from…wherever the hell I was before, it was a strange feeling. I knew what I was the moment I stepped through the mirror. I knew what created me, but I had no idea who I was and had no memories of anything before that dark room. I was created with knowledge of the world, but no idea of where that knowledge came from. It’s weird - being born knowing everything you need to know, and knowing that you didn’t exist only a few seconds before.

While the mages were busy inflating their own egos, I caught a glimpse of myself in the thing I had emerged from. It surprised me how normal I looked: a tall Human male with short, dark hair and icy blue eyes, lean build, smartly dressed, and somewhat handsome. I could’ve passed as someone ordinary.

But I wasn’t ordinary; I knew what I was. I knew what I was and I hated it. I was a Reflection - a clone; a copy of someone who already existed, but I didn’t know who.

Minor self-loathing aside, I knew I was created for a purpose, so I waited for the mages to quit chattering at each other and tell me what that purpose was. If I knew back then what I know now, maybe I’d have saved myself a lot of misery if I had just killed them right then and there. Gotta love the obedience of newly-created magical constructs.

After about a minute, a mage in a white lab coat approached me with a clipboard in hand. They gave me the once-over, circling me like a shark as they scrutinized my appearance. It was as awkward and uncomfortable as you’d think. Who likes being looked at under a microscope like that? When they stopped in front of me again, they stared at my face and squinted for an uncomfortably long time.

“Hey, do we still have that reference photo lying around?” they said.

Not exactly what you want to hear when you haven't even been alive for ten minutes.

I remember watching them wave over one of their colleagues, who brought over a tablet displaying something I couldn’t see. They held it up and compared me to whatever was on it, glancing between me and it over and over again. The way their expressions shifted as they looked at each other wasn’t a good sign.

“Any physical imperfections can be easily altered,” one of them said.

The other one nodded. “You’re right. As long as everything else is fine, it wouldn’t take much to change its physical appearance. I’m sure they’ve got stuff for that lying around somewhere.”

‘It’. I hated the way they said that word. It wasn’t a great first impression. It irritated me - them talking about me like I wasn’t standing right there in front of them. It was pretty clear that I wasn’t a person to them. I was just a construct - a thing. But I stood there and took it. That’s what constructs are supposed to do, isn’t it?

They started asking me questions. Basic stuff, really. Geography, history, politics, mathematics, religion - the kind of stuff you’d normally be taught in school or otherwise learn through experience. Whatever they asked, I was able to answer. How did I know all this? The fuck if I know. I didn’t really question it.

Then the questions started getting really personal.

“What are your parents’ names?”

My mind drew a blank. “I don’t know.”

“Where did you go to school?”

Another blank. “...I don’t know.”

“How many siblings do you have?”

“I… I don't know.”

They asked me more personal things. Every question was answered with an, “I don’t know.” It bothered me back then, realizing just how much of a blank slate I was. No history, no memories - not even much of a personality to speak of. They never asked me if I knew what my name was supposed to be. I don’t think they cared.

I’ll never forget how their faces looked at that moment - how they shifted from disappointment to disgust. But that’s not what stuck with me. It’s what they said afterward.

“It looks like this specimen is defective. It doesn’t seem to have any memories of the original whatsoever.”

“Ah, shit. What do we do? Those reagents were hard to get and we don’t have any more samples to work from. They’re going to have our heads! They can’t do anything with an imperfect copy!”

“I don’t know! We’ll send up the report and see what they want to do. Until then, we can just send it to containment.”

I let the comments slide the first time because being a new construct, obedience was almost hard-wired into me, but that wore off pretty quickly the longer I stood there listening to them talk.

“I’m standing right here, y’know,” I mumbled, hoping to get their attention. It did, but not in the way I’d hoped.

Both mages glared at me like I’d done something offensive. “Yes, we’re aware. We’re not speaking to you.”

I may not have been summoned with much of a personality at first, but I developed one quickly; maybe some shred of my original got passed onto me - I don’t know. But the response pissed me off. I still remember how enraged I got at hearing the tone they continued to take with me. The sheer disrespect. “I don’t care. If you’re gonna talk about me, at least do it somewhere else. If you’re gonna talk in front of me, don’t talk about me like I'm your school science project.”

They continued taunting me.

"We're not talking to you."

"Hah! And you might as well be a science project. Unless you want your life to be a short one, shut up and do what you're told."

That set me off; it was clear that I wasn’t going to be getting any respect. When people feel rage, they say it feels hot - burning, smoldering. Not mine. My rage was ice cold.

And I was going to make sure they felt it when I wiped the smug look off their faces.

“I’m not taking orders from you.” My words were as frigid as the magical energy that coursed through me. It felt so natural to wield.

They didn’t notice the temperature drop or the way the frost started forming on nearby surfaces. By the time they realized what was going on, it was too late. A quick incantation, a wave of a hand, a flash of cold blue light. Splashes of crimson spattered against the walls and floor as spears of ice burst through their chests amidst the screams and horrified expressions of the other mages and scientists in the room.

The lifeless bodies hit the floor, ripped to pieces and half-frozen. I glared at the remaining researchers, daring them to say or do something to challenge me. “Anyone else feel like talking down to me?”

No one spoke. They’d knowingly created a monster and had the arrogance to believe they could abuse it like some child’s toy. Now they knew their ‘toy’ wasn’t so harmless; they knew their place.

“Good. Now, run along.”

They couldn’t scurry out the door fast enough.

I was left alone in the cold, dark room, staring at the corpsicles I’d made. A normal person might have been horrified by what they’d done - felt some kind of remorse. I didn’t. The icy rage faded, but I'd always remember it.

As I tried to wipe the blood off me, I heard a voice over the P. A. system that sounded both impressed and amused.

“Well, you’re certainly no weakling," they said. "They call you a failure and yet you’re still able to do all that? Impressive.”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t appreciate the patronizing tone either. Probably just more asshole mages and scientists like the ones that lay dead at my feet.

“Even though you've only just been born, you’ve got potential. We could use someone like you. What do you say? You wouldn’t be locked up in a cage.”

I knew saying ‘yes’ was a bad idea, but I knew I didn’t have much of a choice. Despite the little display I put on, I’d only been alive for maybe twenty minutes, and I’d already spent what little energy I had. There was nowhere to run. For all I knew, they could've had security forces ready to barge in and gun me down. If I refused to cooperate, they could end my existence just as easily as they created it. If it meant surviving a little longer, maybe a little obedience wouldn't hurt. At least for now.

I remember being escorted through long, winding hallways from the labs to…somewhere else. At some point, the cold and clinical metallic walls gave way to the warm tones of wood paneling, red curtains and carpets, and black marble. It felt odd; it didn’t even feel like I was in the same place.

It was at that point I realized that I wasn’t being escorted by anyone anymore, and I felt the adrenaline pumping again. Maybe I’d been tricked and they were going to drag me somewhere and put an end to me that way. Maybe they’d dropped me into an endless labyrinth to be hunted by other experiments for testing purposes. Hadn’t been alive for even a day and I was already paranoid about when and how I’d meet my demise. 

The idea of bolting and trying to find an exit briefly crossed my mind, but I didn’t have time to dwell on it for long before I heard her voice.

“Ain’t polite to keep a lady waitin’. C’mon in. I don’t bite.”

It drew me in right away - a warm, drawling accent that dripped with a sultry sweetness thick like honey.

When I followed the source of the voice, I found myself in what looked like the bar of a fancy casino. And there she was, sitting on a stool with a drink in hand: a tall, curvaceous lady dressed in red and black with olive skin and red hair bound in a loose bun beneath a large, floppy hat. She oozed with a confidence and elegance that was tempered with an almost rugged air, and it was reflected in how she dressed - something halfway between a business suit and one of those sun dresses I knew from Sheridian fashion, though how I knew that is something I still don’t know to this day.

She patted the stool next to her without a word, and I obliged her. She stared at me for an uncomfortably long time, but it was a different kind of stare from what the scientists gave me.

“Got somethin’ that strikes your fancy, hun?”

After the incident in the lab earlier, I instinctively gave her the same response. “I don’t know.”

I’m not sure what I expected. Disappointment? Annoyance? I didn’t remember seeing any of that in her face. She just…smiled. Like she knew something I didn’t. 

“That’s alright, Blue Eyes. I think I know what you might like.”

I don’t remember exactly what happened, but it was the first time I knew something was off about her, and it wouldn’t be the last. I blinked for maybe half a second, and felt a weird distortion in the air. When I opened my eyes again, there was a blue cocktail sitting in front of me on the bar like it had always been there, but there was no bartender in sight. I stared back at her, knowing she’d done something, but I didn’t know what.

She kept watching me, expecting me to take a sip. For all I knew, the drink could’ve been poisoned, but I drank it anyway. If I was going to die, at least I’d die looking at something pretty.

The drink was ice cold with a strong, fruity and herbal taste, but slightly sweet. She was right; I did like it - not that I ever admitted that to her.

“So what’s this all about?” I asked her.

Her ruby red lips curled in a frown, but her golden eyes still sparkled like the champagne she’d been drinking. “I just wanted to get a good look at you,” she said. “See you in person. Who do you think stopped them from throwin’ you into the reject pile when that summonin’ went sideways?”

I scowled at her. That whole incident happened only a few minutes before, and she was rubbing it in. I didn’t want to be reminded of what I was.

“Oh, yeah? You get a good look, then?” I snapped back. “What do you want? I’m sure you’re not here just to talk to a reject over drinks.”

“You’d be surprised, hun. But I did want to talk to you about the offer that was made to you.” 

“...go on.”

She leaned forward, still smiling that same smile. “I’m the Ace of Diamonds. I’m a member of an organization called The Suits, and we work for GenCorp - the company that created you. Y’can call me Miss Jewel.”

The Suits and GenCorp were both names that rang a bell - an uncanny and kind of disorienting effect of being a magical construct created knowing a lot of recent world history and events. GenCorp was a big transnational mega corporation that specialized in magitech - among other things - but got dismantled for a lot of illegal activity. The Suits was their arm in the underworld, doing all the dirty deeds that enabled their shady projects.

Any normal person with a conscience or some sense of morality would be horrified, knowing all that. I wasn’t. I suspected that when I was summoned, there was a level of loyalty ingrained into me to keep me from going rogue completely. Didn’t stop me from icing those dicks in the summoning chamber, though. But even so, I was fucked from the beginning, and that fact never sat well with me.

“So, I guess I’m working for you guys now, yeah? What else is there to it?”

Miss Jewel’s smile grew wider. “Well, I wanted to invite you to join my division, specifically. The Diamonds. Normally, upper management decides on assignments based on a person’s skillset and their performance during trainin’, but after seeing you in action just a little bit, I think you’ve got potential.”

Her comments surprised me. At the time, I couldn’t comprehend just what it was she saw in me. What potential could there be in a failed experiment?

I told her as much. “I’m a failure, remember? Imperfect. They didn’t get the results they wanted, so what use am I? Suits agents like you are elite - I’m nothing like you.”

I don’t know why I was full of so much self-hatred when I’d made such a show of strength not long before. Maybe it was because I was fully aware of what I was and the purpose I’d been intended for. I should’ve been ecstatic about the idea of being useful. The guys in the lab were nobodies, and they treated me like nothing, but there I was, sitting in front of the Ace of Diamonds - the strongest and most powerful agent in her division - who said that I had potential.

I’ll never forget that day. Or rather, that moment - the one that would be what shaped my life from that point onward.

She leaned in close, and stared at me fondly like she was looking in a mirror. “Diamonds don’t start out pretty, hun. At first, they just look like plain ol’ rocks - rough and unimpressive. But when y’find a good one, all it needs is a good cut and polish to make it real impressive.”

It was then that I started to understand just what the look she gave me was - the look I’d see whenever we’d have routine meetings or whenever she’d check in on me. She knew she had something of value on her hands. She knew she had something worth investing in. I knew it was simply a transaction. I knew that I didn’t have much of a choice - that my alternative was probably immediate termination. But in that moment, it was nice knowing I had value - that I wasn’t nothing.

“Well, when you put it that way…” I downed the rest of my drink in one go; probably the first of my many regrets. “Sure. I guess I’ll give it a shot. I’ll try not to disappoint you.”

“I don’t think I’ll be disappointed.” She reached out to brush a thumb over my cheek. I froze instantly; I didn’t know how to respond. In my ears, I heard something that sounded like cracking glass, and I felt my face burning. When she pulled her hand away, she frowned at the crimson stains that coated her fingers. I was still covered in blood.

“Hm. I think I’ve kept you long enough. Get yourself cleaned up and get some rest - I’m sure y’had a long day.” She smiled again and flicked her wrist as she produced a single card out of nowhere, which she began fiddling with between her fingers. It was an Ace of Diamonds. “See ya soon, Blue Eyes.”

Before I could have said anything else, she flicked the card at me, and I fell back into an empty room. I could still see her on the other side of the portal she’d tossed me through, waving as the magical doorway snapped shut. 

I sat there bewildered for a while, not really sure how to feel about everything that had just transpired. The place that would become my personal quarters was decently sized and comfortable-looking, at least. It wasn’t a cell or a cage, which is where I likely would’ve ended up otherwise. But I wasn’t dead. I could be useful. That’s all that mattered.

I decided to take Miss Jewel on her advice and clean myself up in the shower to get all the gore off of me that had defrosted during the course of our conversation.