The only thing consistent was the burning pain in my skull. I remembered flashes of light rolling across the ceiling, as I looked up. Faces looked back down at me, blurry and distorted. I could hear talking, but it sounded like ringing in my ears. I went to lift my arms, but they wouldn't budge. Every time the panic set in, the darkness followed.

  The next time I gained conciousness, the world was still blurred. I was on my back, looking up. Turning my head from side to side was difficult, but I strained to get a better grasp of my surroundings. I could make out the shapes of glass canisters, stainless steel objects and computer screens. It reminded me of the processing areas in an MRI room, mixed with an operating theatre where surgeries could be observed. Much to my dismay, my vision didn't correct well enough for me to make out details. Trying to move my arms and legs revealed that I was bound to whatever I was laying on.

  I tried to recall what had happened to get me here. I remembered stealing the tablet and heading to my room. I remembered searching for The Vault. I went to take a shower and then...

  Lancelot had hit me with something, knocking me unconcious. They had found out about me, or at least had been suspicious enough to guess I was on the right track. Which meant I wasn't crazy, I hoped.

  I heard voices again, and tried to turn my head to the side. They felt familiar, but I couldn't be sure. Someone came over and placed something on my arm that felt like a blood pressure cuff. I tried to struggle against it, but it was no use.

  "Where am I? What's happening?" I asked, my voice sounding garbled in my own ears. Someone responded, but I couldn't understand. Someone else came and pulled out my eye lids, shining a light in my eyes. I growled and struggled against them, trying to turn my head. It was followed by someone snapping their fingers next to my ears. When they were satisfied, they said something and walked away.

  My heart was racing, the stress of it all causing nausea to well up inside me. I tried to hold it down, knowing I couldn't fully turn my head and vomitting while on my back like this could prove fatal. I took a few steadying breaths instead.

  Slowly, my vision began to return. I could see the glass canisters were actually some kind of pod, each filled with some kind of opaque green fluid. There were several computer monitors displaying biometrics, as well as CCTV feeds. The stainless steel tray beside me was covered in medical instruments. In fact, most of the room was full of medical equipment that made the room look like some kind of secret lab.

  "Maybe you hit him too hard. He has a concussion." I heard Victor Frankenstein say. I watched a Lancelot waved nonchalantly, like it didn't matter.

  "What are you doing to me?" I asked. The two of them both looked over at me. Victor wore a sympathetic, sad smile on his scarred face. Lancelot looked like I had offended him simply by existing.

  "You've become a major pain in the Order's ass Detective." The word 'detective' seemed to drip venom when Lancelot spoke it. "We tried to push you away, and you just pushed back harder. Then we took you in and showed you what you wanted, even healed your disability. And you repay us by sticking your nose where it shouldn't be."

  "Nature of the job." I shot back, struggling against my restraints. Lancelot raised an eyebrow and smirked.

  "I suppose it is. And look where it has gotten you." He gestured to the table I was strapped to.

  "I know you fabricated my memories. I know The Guilt isn't real. You drugged me and paid everyone to tell me I was crazy." I accused. Victor and Lancelot looked at each other quizzically. Victor shrugged.

  "What are you on about?" Lancelot asked, coming to stand beside the table.

  "I know what you guys did to me." I snarled. Lancelot stared at me like he was trying to see what was going on in my skull.

  "Walk me through what exactly you think was done to you...by me?" He asked.

  "Well, maybe not you, but the Order of Vigilance." I said, realizing suddenly how crazy it all sounded out loud.

  "On Partridge Island, while I was in the military, we went to shut down a secret Nazi base. When we got there, I discovered they were experimenting on monsters. And I don't think it was Nazis. I think it was you guys. Someone unleashed so weird grey tentacled monster that killed my team. I barely made it out alive. That same creature tracked me down and killed my wife and son, and took my daughter. But I think the monster is a block in my memory for something else. It kept showing up to torment me, until I stopped taking my pills. Pills that I was put on by the police force psychiatrist, who was being paid off by the Order to keep me off the trail of all this." I told him.

  Lancelot blinked at me, stunned. He turned to look at Victor.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  "That doesn't sound like it is out of the realm of possibility for the Order." Victor stated. Lancelot turned back to me.

  "You think you're important enough to be the center of some great conspiracy? Why would the Order pay that kind of money to keep you away and then torment you?" He asked. I opened my mouth to speak and froze.

  "Well, I must have been on to something. I must have seen something at Partridge Island that I wasn't supposed to." I told him. I felt like I was trying to convince myself and not just him.

  "I don't know of any operation at Partridge Island. I'm a Progenitor, surely I would have been alerted to something like that. Especially if it involved monster experimentation." Lancelot said thoughtfully.

  "It was a long time ago." I responded. Lancelot chuckled to himself.

  "Do you have any idea how long I've been alive?" He asked. I stared at him incredulously.

  "Did you think Lancelot was a code name?" He laughed, and this time it was as genuine as it was condescending.

  "Maybe whoever is in charge of you forgot to tell you." I said back, grimacing. Lancelot walked away from the table and back to Victor's side.

  "So maybe John is not the mole? Maybe it just lines up conveinently and we just let him go?" Victor asked, his sad eyes looking me over. Lancelot appeared to mull it over for a while.

  "He knows too much." He said coldly.

  "He is technically a member of the Order now. He knows exactly as much as he should." Victor told him, holding up a finger. Looking at the man without his lab coat on, I saw that he wasn't just scarred on his face; he was covered in scars and stitch marks. It was like he had been the monster all along, put back together with parts from others. He appeared now, hunched and tired and desperate to be done with Lancelot, who had begun pacing, stroking his chin.

  "Fine." Lancelot snapped. "Untie him and let him go." Then he turned to me.

  "Let this be a warning to you, John Callum. If you step out of line, I will know. And stay away from The Vault. You aren't a Chosen." He sneered, before storming off.

  When he had exited the lab, Victor moved quickly to untie me from the gurney. He kept shaking his head.

  "I apologize. Lancelot has been on edge. There is some sort of leak in our network. Someone is spilling information to the outside world, and the other Progenitors think it is coming from the Citadel. I imagine it is a scary thing to have looming over your head; the threat that someone could strip you of your immortality and hundreds of years would catch up to you all at once." He said quickly. It was like he was rambling anxiously. I didn't quite understand what he meant by that. Could Lancelot be stripped of his immortality? Where all of these Progenitors immortal?

  I rubbed my wrists amd stretched my neck. Now that I was up, I looked around the room more, eyes wide. It very much looked like a super villains secret lab.

  "Is this where Lancelot does all his dirty work?" I asked, still kinda pissed off.

  "Heavens no." Victor said, moving to stand in front of one of the green opaque tubes. "This is my lab. Quite different from what Ms. Shelley had imagined. She would have loved to see my current works. How I miss her..." He trailed off, his fingers running down the tube in nostalgia. Victor snapped back to me quickly and shook his head again.

  "I would suggest staying off of Lancelot's radar going forward, but I think that will be most difficult. You and Kas seem to be on the top of his shit list, so to speak." He said with a small chuckle.

  "What is his deal with Kas anyway?" I asked, getting off the gurney and trying to look into the tubes filled with liquid. Something was floating inside, but I couldn't make out what. I tapped at the glass absently.

  "She hasn't told you? I thought you two were close." Victor said sitting down at one of the computers and going over something I couldn't make out.

  "I hadn't asked. Seems personal." I told him. Every time I thought to bring it up, I could see the pain in her icy blue eyes, the hundred yard stare of someone who had lost something or someone. I felt her pain, and the last thing I wanted was to open old wounds.

  "It is indeed personal. Better for her to tell you than I." Victor said sadly. When he saw me tapping on the glass, he waved me away.

  "What was Lancelot going to do to me down here?" I was curious what fate I had just narrowly avoided by being oblivious to some other conspiracy. Victor shrugged, spinning his chair around and spreading his legs, getting comfortable.

  "Any number of things, honestly. I could have wiped your memory, simply killed you with a scalpel or chemicals. Used your body for science. Oh, you meant him. Lancelot would have probably monologued for thirty minutes before simply beheading you with his swords. He's not very creative." Victor said, smiling. The seams of his lips seemed to stretch back too far, like they had been torn and stitched back together. It was the first time seeing him smile fully and it was disturbing.

  "I see." I muttered, straining against the unnerving thought of what I had just avoided. Lancelot would have subjected me to inhumane medical practise over a misunderstanding. And I still wasn't any closer to my answers. I made my way across the room to the door, and then stopped.

  "Victor, you said earlier, it wasn't outside the realm of possibility that the Order manufactured what's happening to me. Do you have any idea why they would do that?" I asked, the question burning deep in my mind. I had to find out why. Why me?

  Victor tilted his head back and forth, mulling it over.

  "It could very well be like you said, you have seen and know too much. This lab on Partridge Island, you said they were doing experiments on monsters. Perhaps you need to go back there. It might jog your memory." He replied thoughtfully. He gave me his much-too-wide grin again. "Let me know if you do decide to go. I would like very much to see this lab up close. And I could use a holiday."

  That answer seemed like the obvious one. Just go back. But, by Canadian law, it was prohibited and I had been a man of the law. Or had it been a convenient excuse that I told myself, to avoid reliving the trauma of what happened there. At least if I went back this time, I had friends. I knew Kas would come and Victor had just volunteered. I wondered if Vance and his team would join me.

  I nodded at Victor as I tried to leave the room and slammed head first into the sealed doors.

  "Oh! Sorry, hang on." Victor cried out, jumping from his seat and scanning his keycard to unlock the door. The burning pain in my skull returned.