Chapter 3

"Stay in the car." My father moved quickly towards the sight of a catastrophe. There was a fire, not great nor small, lazily berating the exposed oil on the pavement. Broken debris and pieces of dark muck meshed together in a disharmonious depiction of disaster. What was once a vehicle was now a cradle holding those inside dearly, softly and tenderly. The fire helped illuminate the darkness of that particular night. I remember the impatience. The worry that sprouted from my mind caused my body to move.

I moved carefully towards the wreckage. The first body was the worst. It was face down, prone, with limbs broken and torn, exposed bone peeking from the cut pieces of clothing and flesh. The fire did well to show me the bloody path this body took to distance itself from the car. The entire front of this body was spread across fifteen feet of pavement. I understood that it was horrible to feel nothing for this body, but I was relieved. This wasn't someone I knew. I walked less concerned towards the rest of the wreckage, a foolish complacency. The visage of my father hurling bile caused my idiotic response. I ran towards him.

"Don! Don't!" His shout made my head turn instinctively, following his fearful eyes. I halted slowly before I stood motionless, staring at the bodies as they stared back at me. The first face, that of my little brother, was gone completely. A giant gaping hole, pierced by some fragment of the vehicle, replaced most of his head. The smile he gave freely whenever he saw me was gone, a giant void replaced it, a great nothing. He sat there, his small body held by the body next to him. I only recognized him by the shirt, it was one I had gifted him less than a week ago.

"Don!" My mother was next to him. The arm she used in an attempt to protect her son was gone. Her body was mostly intact aside from her head. Her head was broken open on one side, resting on the shoulder of my younger brother. Pieces of her brain, mingled with her blood, spilled out, possibly due to the indented right side of the car. Her usually lustrous black hair was tangled and stuck to the only side of her face that was left. She looked at me, almost in sorrow, with what was left of her face.

"Don! Donovan!" I stared at her face, memorizing every detail, every piece of torn flesh, every drop of blood, every misplaced hair, every bit of anguish that completed the portrait of despair I had come to memorize. Every memory I had of her, every moment I spent with her, her face was replaced by the look she gave me now. I looked on until my father tore my sight away. But I will never forget it. I can't.

—-

My eyes opened. I had that nightmare again. The painful migraines that memorizing faces brought was caused by that moment in my life. I had that nightmare every time I committed a face to memory. It was a nightmare that no longer scared me. It was a nightmare I had so often it was simply a reminder.

I blinked my eyes for several moments. It was somewhat regretful that I had that nightmare again after being free of it for so long. Memorizing so many faces after more than a year must have been why it was so much clearer than I remember. The lumpy couch I was sleeping on probably didn't help either. My back hurt and the sleep I got couldn't be called restful, but I woke up regardless.

Yesterday, after hearing Marco's story, I went with him to his apartment. A small rundown apartment where he slept with his sister. I had come to help him grab his things and pack them up. I had already bought a house before I left New York, so I offered him some of the rooms. It took a few rounds of convincing but he eventually caved in.

When we arrived at his apartment, a little girl I had never seen before rushed up to him, hugging him tightly. She was someone I never got the chance to meet. A face that I started memorizing almost reflexively. The fourth face and probably the most important, in a way.

It was obvious she was my mother's child. Just piecing together the parts of my mother I remembered with that of this girl was enough confirmation. The girl received the same lustrous curly black hair as the rest of my mother's children. The girl was also quite lucky, she had received much less genes from my father, allowing her to look more like my mother. In fact, aside from one difference, you could barely tell my father was even involved. She had my father's green eyes, just like me.

As she noticed the presence of two strangers she began to pull herself away. Marco had to take her into a room to explain things when she began crying at the sight of Kingsley. Kingsley looked too much like someone from child protective services, I think. Eventually, we were allowed a look around after Marco had calmed the girl down. After that, we started helping pack things away.

The apartment was a small step away from squalor. Although clean, probably due to the children's combined efforts, the broken down apartment was almost uninhabitable. Despite this, the most troublesome aspect was the constant vigilance of the girl.

The girl, Clara, only stared at us while we placed things in plastic bags. She was constantly moving around us so that she was between Marco and Kingsley. It seems most of the animosity was pointed at Kingsley.

As the time was approaching midnight and we still had a few things to pack, we realized late that we had no means of transportation. Marco looked the most tired as he was showing us what we needed to take while also doing the most work, so I suggested we call it for the night. I tried to grab a room at a motel nearby but Marco was strangely insistent that I stay for the night. I was given the couch to sleep on so we could continue tomorrow.

Currently, as I was cracking the stiff bones on my body, I turned my face to the side. Staring straight at me, from the middle of the hallway, was Clara. Having noticed that I was looking at her, she darted back towards the room she shared with Marco.

"What the hell is that?" I muttered under my breath.

"She's been staring at you for thirty minutes."

"Fuck!" I almost had a heart attack as I heard the voice from slightly below me. "Scared the shit outta me." Kingsley, apparently forgotten, was laying down on the floor next to the couch, stock still and still wearing the same suit she had yesterday. I thought she went home.

"It's good that you're awake." She sat up. "I just received the itinerary for today." I looked at this woman as she was reading through her phone. Blond hair tied tightly in a bun and a sharp face, Kingsley fit the appearance of a military woman through and through. Despite her minimal use of makeup she still held an androgynous beauty that was kind of alluring. Beyond her face, her chest was, without any other way to put it, pitiful. In this world where women competed fiercely for a mate, she would probably struggle.

"What are you doing?" Noticing my gaze she covered her nonexistent chest.

"Feeling sorry for you." I couldn't help but shake my head in disappointment. Although I memorized her face in a fit of anger, seeing how much time I might end up spending with her, it was probably a decent decision

"Hmph." She scoffed before standing. Seeing her tight bottom that threatened to escape her long skirt, I suddenly didn't feel so bad for her.

"I'm rooting for you." She thinned her eyes into a glare before sitting on one of the chairs.

"Enough of your games. We have an appointment to make, so get ready." I wonder if it's a good thing that I got a job so soon after coming back.

"Is there at least enough time to get these kids outta here?" I got up and started changing.

"Actually, I think it's better to wait, um, until later." I turned to Marco, who spoke. He was dressed in a simple worn shirt and dirty jeans. A construction worker?

"Can you please get changed faster?" Ignoring Kingsley, I spoke.

"You don't have school?"

"Uh, I have work."

"What do you do?"

"I…" If he's making such a surly face, it's probably not construction.

"Do you want to go to school?"

"I…don't know."

"Alright." Far be it from me to force him. As Marco was looking weird, Clara walked up to him and pulled on his shirt, asking him to lean down so she could whisper something to him.

"She, uh, wants to know where you're going." Pulling my shirt down, I looked at Clara and shrugged.

"I don't know." A shirt came falling in front of me as I spoke. Kingsley was throwing clothes out of my duffel bag.

"Don't you have anything better than," she pointed towards my t-shirt, "that?" I looked down at my shirt then looked back at her, ignoring her comment.

"Hey, where are we going?"

"Don't ignore me!" I just kept staring at her. "Ugh, it's a small studio where we'll film a promotional piece for the clinics." I looked at Clara.

"She wants to know if you can pick her up from school." I looked back at Kingsley.

"We might be able to make time if the shoot doesn't take too long."

"That's what Miss Itinerary says."

"You-" ignoring Kingsley again, I watched Clara look at me for a moment before turning and walking out the door.

"Ah," Marco sped up his movement to catch up with Clara, talking to me as he left, "I'll see you later Mr. Don."

"Yup." I looked at Kingsley again who was typing furiously on her phone. "So, where to?"

"I ordered clothes, they'll arrive at the shoot. You'll be doing the commercial with a few famous people. They're a little…special, so be on your best…no, just don't do anything I don't tell you to."

"Am I getting paid for any of this?"

"The contract stated an hourly fee of," she looked at me from the corner of her eye, "twenty-five dollars an hour." Oh, that's not too bad.

"Alright." That's about what I got from my job in IT.

"That's satisfactory?"

"Yea, that's good." She looked at me again before turning back to her phone.

"There should be a car waiting for us. Let's go."

The location was pretty close, so we arrived earlier than some of the people I was doing the shoot with.

"So, walk me through the details again." As an inexperienced model, I wanted to at least give these people their money's worth.

"Just read off the prompter and look like someone who wants to donate."

"Got it."

"You honestly don't have to do much, just look pretty for the camera." Kingsley had an exasperated face, probably because I kept asking her the same thing the entire car ride over. I can't help that I'm a professional.

"I just-"

"Is that him!?" We were interrupted by a loud shriek.

An important looking woman was walking towards us. She seemed to be important due to the entourage following her. She stood in front of me and spoke.

"Nice to meet you! I'm XXXXXX XXXXXX. I'll be filming the commercial with you." With how much of a headache I had yesterday, I don't want to have to commit another face to a name, so I'll just ignore it.

"Donovan." I left my hand open for a handshake which she took happily.

"I have to finish getting ready, but I'll see you later, hehe." I watched her group for a moment and turned to Kingsley. She had a sour look on her face as she kept staring at them.

"What's wrong?" She broke her stare and returned to her normal placid face. She looked at me, looking like she didn't know whether to talk or not. "What?"

"You…this is only my personal opinion but…"

"What?"

"You shouldn't get close to that person like you're prone to."

"Why? What's wrong with her?"

"She's the heiress to Gredier Pharmaceutical. That company is the largest sponsor for this entire project."

"You mean the whole sperm donation thing?"

"Correct. They hold enormous political power due to both their immense wealth and their ties to various countries."

"So why is she here? Don't the super rich like to keep a low profile?"

"She's a special case. She's also a singer."

"What, like a pop star?"

"Correct."

"If that's all, then did you look at her like she killed your puppy."

"Huh?"

"You gave her a look, it's obvious you don't like her."

"I…it's nothing." I raised a single eyebrow.

"Haah…that woman, she's incubation-born." That term again.

"What does that mean?" She looked at me oddly.

"Are you serious?" She started glaring at me again. "Don't make fun of me Donovan Knoys."

"I'm serious. I have no idea." I held my hands up in innocence. She spent a moment looking for any lies on my face before she started talking again.

"You really don't know?"

"No."

"…Fine." She gathered her thoughts before speaking. "You noticed her eyes, right?" Not really but I nodded anyway. "Those eyes are proof that she is a person born from within an incubator, a person created unnaturally."

"What's so bad about that? Isn't it just a means to an end? A possible solution to curing the mutation?"

"I know, but…I can't help it. They're too…perfect."

"Perfect?" I thought back to the doctor I met yesterday. She was supposed to be incubator-born. She was beautiful, sure, but perfect? I don't know.

"They're genetically altered to be perfect, especially the first generation. They're more intelligent and athletic, they have better bodies, faster response times, greater endurance. They're better than regular people in every way."

"So you're jealous of them?"

"It's more than that." She looked at the floor, a disgusted look on her face. "When I look at one of them, I get this feeling. A feeling that almost warns me, 'This person shouldn't exist.' I know it's disgusting to think of another human being like this, but I…"

"I get it. It's sort of like the uncanny valley." CG movies made me feel the same way when I was a kid.

"...huh?"

"Uncanny valley. Like when it feels weird to look at robots that are too human-like." She looked at me oddly.

"It's called the eerie gorge and no one feels that way about things like robots."

"Really?" Well maybe it's just a thing in my world. "Well, whatever. Thanks for telling me about how racist you are."

"I'm not racist!" She whispered loudly at me.

"Excuse me." I turned and a girl, holding a folded suit, came up to me. Kingsley turned away, probably embarrassed.

"The outfit for you Mr. Knoys."

"Thanks." I looked at Kingsley who was still frowning at my joke. "I'm going to change." She didn't respond.

It didn't take long for me to finish changing into my outfit. It was a nice suit, a little tight, but it was comfortable fabric. I met up with Kingsley who was reading something on her phone. Since we were early, and no one seemed pressured about getting work done, I had a chance to look around.

The studio looked typical enough. A giant green screen, several cameras, tables filled with random food. Also, the crew was all women. In fact, aside from Marco, I don't think I've seen a single guy working since I got here. I wonder just how much the government pays men to just loaf around at home. I read somewhere that, among the countries with an especially low percentage of men, the government pays them just for existing.

"Hey again." Just as I was thinking to myself, a woman came and started speaking to me. Judging by the entourage behind her and the face Kingsley was making, it was probably that same girl, the heiress.

"Hey."

"I thought we could get to know each other a little before the shoot." Reading her body language, she didn't seem to be insinuating anything.

"Sure. Whatcha got on your mind?"

"Well, what do you like to do?"

I spent time like this answering random questions for a while. Most of them were nonsense.

"So you don't like movies?"

"Not really."

"Why?"

"They're just hard to watch sometimes." Especially faces. "Cartoons are okay though."

I did end up learning a few interesting things about myself though. Currently, I was watching a video of myself punching the guy from yesterday.

"Why am I watching this?"

"Look at the views."

"Oh." Two million?

"This one doesn't even have the most views." She pulled the phone from me and searched for a different video. "The ones with a close up of your face do the best." The second video had nearly ten million views.

"Why is it that popular? My face isn't much." Are the standards for men really that low? I looked up and both Kingsley and the woman, including her entourage, were staring at me. "Is it that good?"

""Yes."" They all agreed. I wasn't usually one to blush but compliments like these are hard to ignore.

"Well, I appreciate it." I couldn't help smiling lightly.

"Khm. Your face is a good attention grabber, but a lot of people took a liking to your attitude."

"Attitude? I just punched a guy."

"It's not just that. How do I put it…"

"You stood up for something." Kingsley finally joined the conversation.

"Yes! You stood up for something." Kingsley flinched at the woman's cheerful affirmation. "You did something a lot of men don't do anymore. For a long time, men haven't really done…anything, but you defended that boy. It was really cool."

We spoke for several minutes. A few women began joining the conversation as well. Eventually, I stopped adding to the conversation altogether since the group of people had gotten so large. I noticed several hours had passed when I checked my phone. I was tired already, my body was still exhausted from the restless sleep I had, and I hadn't even done anything.

"Are we going to start working soon?" I whispered to Kingsley who was out of the conversation as well, but I was probably too loud as everyone stopped talking.

"We're still waiting for someone." Kingsley spoke curtly while she was the center of attention.

"We are?" I checked my watch to make sure, it still said one in the afternoon. "Aren't they a bit late?"

"This is sort of normal for her." The woman answered just as the door to the studio opened. A new woman, taller, about my height, entered the room with a man of the same stature. I could feel my eye twitch as I watched her laughing stupidly with the man next to her. Both were speaking in loud voices while pretending to be hushed. I stood up, a smile I hadn't used in a while forming on my face, and walked towards them. I extended my hands towards the duo I recognized, a pair of people I knew from my world.

—-

Donovan Knoys, a rare breed of man that I haven't seen before. A man marked as dangerous by my boss and mentor. A man I still don't know very much about.

Our first day together was spent waiting. For several hours I watched as Donovon Knoys and the heiress, Naomi Gredier, spoke with one another over trivial matters. Despite pouring my heart out to the man, he still conversed normally with the woman I could only feel disgust towards. I couldn't understand how he withstood looking at such a person. Several times she even used the excuse of showing him videos to make his gaze wander towards her chest.

I thought back to when we first arrived. I could feel the subdued tension when we first entered the designated job site. I could see all the furtive glances and lustful winks directed at him. Yet, the man himself showed no reaction. As if he were blind, Donovan Knoys ignored everyone but those who spoke to him directly.

Fortunately or not, this area was one where a hierarchy was established. The apparent queen being the heiress. Others could only watch in envy as she monopolized the conversation with him. That was until a new arrival threatened the pecking order.

I knew they were hired for this but seeing the already inebriated duo still caused a small headache to form. Jesse and Jeremy Plucker. The first is a famous actor, the second is her manager and brother. The rumors about the pair of twins were as numerous as they were illicit. One such rumor even told of an incestuous relationship between the siblings.

I looked around the group of people that had begun to disperse as the couple had arrived, their faces showed clear distaste towards the duo. I turned back towards the person I was told to protect and found him missing. Searching, I quickly found him approaching the duo, a strange smile on his face. It was different from what he usually showed, certainly different from the small smile he produced when the entire group of women had complimented him. This smile was large and friendly, the first I'd seen him make.

"You the guys we waiting on?" He spoke while extending a hand. He was different. His voice was livelier, the atmosphere around him seemed brighter. It looked different from when he approached the woman in the diner yesterday. There was no lust in his eyes.

"Yes, that's, hic, us." Jeremy Plucker accepted the handshake. His sister, like most of the women that meet Donovan Knoys, immediately began to flirt with him. She shed her large coat, revealing the outfit that barely covered her body.

"You're the guy, right? The hot one who punched thaAARRRG." She burped right on his face. "...Excuse me." Even Jesse Plucker, a woman known as the most thick-faced actor in the business, looked somewhat embarrassed as her spittle seemed to drip down his face. Everyone was somewhat expectant. How would the man, who showed initiative towards a woman for the first time since his arrival, react when that woman did something so disgusting.

Donovan Knoys wiped the spittle from his face and smiled. A smile so kind and warm, even I found my face warming up slightly, not to mention the recipient, Jesse Plucker. She stared at him, dumbstruck. In the corner of my eye, I could see the heiress clenching her jaw in indignation.

"It's nothing to worry about," he extended his hand, "miss?" She grabbed it and spoke. The blush on her cheeks was deep enough to make me think that she had gotten even more drunk.

"Jesse." Donovan Knoys flipped her hand in his palm and kissed it lightly. I began to wonder if this is what the man known as Donovan Knoys was like when he truly desired someone.

"Wonderful to meet you, Miss Jesse."