Bug-Pin

I think I’m drowning.

Is this what drowning is supposed to feel like?

I expected to feel overwhelmed. But all I feel is an eerie quiet. In my brain, in my surroundings. Not that I spent a lot of time expecting. No one expects to drown. It’s just sort of happens. It catches you off guard. One minute you’re steady and in control and the next minute you aren’t. The undertow grabs you by your ankles and then you’re on your back head underwater, eyes wide open.

Any minute now this peace will leave me. When it fully settles in that I’m too far down to get back up I will feel it. The panic and the pain of my blood vessels bursting, tightness is already building in my chest from the lack of oxygen and I’ve lost sight of up and down. With any luck I will pass out and breathe in the salt of the sea before I suffocate.

I’m already beginning to feel light headed and my lungs are burning. There is a humming of a beautiful hymn ringing in my ears. I can’t quite place its origin, the song or the sound. But it feels familiar. I close my eyes and let myself begin to slip.

This must be it.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? We need you.”

A voice somewhere distant caresses my consciousness. A firm hand grips my arm in a way that I’m sure would normally hurt but it felt like a soft touch now.

“He’s loosing consciousness. Get 008.” The voice grunts. Its sound is harsh and annoyed.

Cold air hits my skin violently. Like tiny daggers against my flesh. “Breathe, I need you to breathe.” The hands from earlier put their full weight against my chest causing me to cough harshly and suck in the first bit of air I’ve had in ages. It hurts.

Again and again it keeps going until I’m nothing more than a shaking mess with wet dribbling down my chin. “Enough..” I garble out. “No more.” I open my eyes.

There is a light being held too close to my iris , it’s making my lids involuntarily squint. A pristine white glove keeps them open against my struggling.

“This is Bug-pin 1357 reporting. 001 attempted drowning, attempt 37: unsuccessful.” The masked man garbles into a mic clipped to his collar. “Taking him into med: Bay 205” he finishes.

“I didn’t-“ I scratch out but no one listens to me as my body is roughly handled onto a stretcher. “- I just wanted to see the water.” This time. I finished, my throat still raw from coughing up salt water.

The trip into the back of the lab’s military vehicle to the sterile, white light of the infirmary hallways passed by in a blur of harsh whispers and put off sighs.

Red hair and beige eyes enter my field of vision. 008.

The Lucilla Sericata. Surgical Maggot.

I didn’t feel any open wounds on me. But I didn’t feel much of anything right now anyways.

His mask was a more comforting sight than the listless blue ones of our handlers. Theirs were plainly embroidered with tight needles pointed at their chins like beards, meant to cover even their eyes as well as their mouth with no other discerning features. 008s was more familiar and personal. A coffee stained porcelain shaped to the top half of his face and accents of gold embroidery adorned in extravagant yet simple craftsmanship. It cascaded over his forehead into a point between his brows and the sides of his temple.

A surprisingly neat and classy mask for a maggot insecta.

“Where is your mask 001?” He murmured as he got to work, hovering his hand over my leg to scrape bacteria and… eat.

“Am I hurt?” I ask the man. Though I’d never seen any of my cohorts true faces 008 gives the impression of someone in their 40’s more worldly. Someone who didn’t grow up in this lab as he existed before them.

“A coral sting and a pretty sizable gash on your Gastrocnemius, lower back calf. Your mask 001?” He pushed. I wasn’t wearing it? The thought came to me hazily. And the bug pins let him see me?

“Must have gotten lost in the water?” I replied like it was a question. 008 muttered something about children and rash decision making. He otherwise continued with his business in silence leaving me to stew in my thoughts.

My own mask was less flattering. A black cathedral mask made of cloth and chains. Sewn with abstract and non-sensical patterns meant to cover my whole face, eyes and all. Similar to the Bug-pins. For a moth insecta it fit its theme well enough I supposed.

I reached up and rubbed absently at the brand on my wrist. IV. Mask or none I’m still nothing but property of Anthropod.

“You know they won’t ever let you go.” 008 broke his silence as he wrapped my leg. I looked up to the man in question.

“You can’t die until they say you can. So you should just stop trying.” He huffed and shook his head.

I’m surprised they didn’t hook me to a ventilator this time. It’s just about the only thing I remember from the last time. Nothing of actually going under or what I was thinking. Brain damage they said. I did catch sight of an oxygen meter on my finger with stable numbers of 93%.

The insecta do have better healing than the average human I guess. And they must have found me quick.

I say as much out loud. “It was a dry drowning. You barely inhaled anything.” 008 sighed. I nod my understanding. I’m still going to be coughing and wheezing until at least tomorrow. “I just wanted to see the ocean.” I eventually reply even though I know no one will listen.

008 wordlessly glances at my wrist but doesn’t say anything more. Enough was implied.

“There’s going to be more endurance testing at 1700 sharp. Get some rest Witch Moth.” I swallow thickly and nod. “Okay.”“A Bug pin will come in at 1400 to bring you a new mask.” I nod again and curl against the med cot.

“See you when I see you 008” The other made quiet steps out of the door and closed it softly.

I only have vague memories of my life before Arthropod. Sunny days and preschool friends. A woman with curly black hair like my own but tighter and more defined. A car crash and a Bug-pin that pretended to be my doctor.

Everything after that is a blur until the other numbers started being brought in. Just a mix of needles and pain and changes to my body that shouldn’t have been possible, making me something beyond human. Maybe something lower than human. A monster made of flesh.

It got better when they brought in 002, I was no longer their only subject to play with. But that just meant someone else was taking my place and my pain. How could I possibly revel in that?

There’s no knock at the door of course when one of the Bug-pins walks in. Another black mask in hand. This one wraps around even the top of my head like a motorcyclist, but still tucks behind my ears. My hair is cropped short enough that it covers my loose curls completely. Stripping away the bit of distinctive individuality I still had. The only thing that sticks out at all are the twin holes for my feathered antenna.

“Keep the oxygen monitor on. It’s feeding time in the mess hall.” They say and leave the door open for me to leave. I fit the mask on with a weight in my gut. There’s no point in eating when I’ll just throw it up during endurance testing anyways but I don’t actually have a choice.

I prop myself on my elbows and scrunch my nose at my clothes. They’re still sopping wet. Looking around I see that no one had brought me a change of scrubs which meant that they expected me to walk around trailing water. Possibly hoping I’d catch a cold or develop pneumonia.

I do my best to ring out what I can and walk down the concrete hallways towards the noise of numbers eating their supplements.

The ‘mess hall’ is large and loud considering there is only 30 of us total. And overwhelmingly yellow, the light sun colored and drab. Probably slightly red tinted but my moth eyes can’t tell.

Another incredibly petty punishment from the handlers probably. “001!” A small voice calls out. I look towards the tot sitting at the very end of a long table with 006. Her honeybee mask is black and yellow, covering only her eyes but not her infectious smile or warm blonde hair.

She’s the newest of the numbers- 030. The only tests she’s had so far are the insecta trials where they combined her DNA with that of a honey bee as far as I’m aware.

She’s too young to be here. We’re not allowed to share personal information. That would humanize us too much. But she could only be a couple years older than I was when I was taken.

“Hello.” I greet, my voice coming out a bit pinched and raw, followed by raucous coughing. My vocal cords are already starting to spasm.

“What happened to you?” 006 asks, taking in my wet clothing and coughing fit. His mask was the only one worse than mine in terms of anonymity. A full helmet of chains and red and black embroidery. The black widow.

“Drowned.” I shrugged and sat by one of the clear food tubes hovering over the table. I punch in my number and my insecta type, waiting patiently for it to spit out my liquid food.

006 clicked his tongue but it’s hard to gauge his reaction otherwise with a mask like that. It used to be more free, with both his eyes and mouth relatively unobstructed. I even remember the specked red and black hair he used to have spiked every which way. But that was a long time ago. We were still kids. One too many Bug-pins got bit before they chained his sharp mouth shut. It’s only recently become loosened enough that he could talk again.

“I see they changed your face again.” He tapped his own chains. That’s what we called them sometimes. Faces. Because that’s what they might as well have been and it’s what our handlers probably wished they were.

I nodded and slid a straw beneath my mask to drink. “You know they’re never gonna let you go.” His deep voice drawled. I shrugged again at the repeated warning. “I just wanted to see the water.” 006 tilted his head.

“Right.” He drawled. 030 looked on curiously. “What happened?” She asked none the wiser of everything implied. “Do you know how long 001 has been here Honey Bee?” 006 asked 030 instead of directly answering her question.

She shook her head. “Do you know what our numbers mean?” He continued. Honey Bee frowned. “Not really.” She said simply.

“He’s 001. He’s the first. And he was already here a long long time before 002 came to join him.” If it weren’t for the fact that I couldn’t see his expression to confirm I would almost think 006 was pitying me.

“He’s been here over a decade. Longer than almost anyone could endure in a place like this. And he wanted to go… away.” Honey Bee frowned harder but nodded an understanding that she shouldn’t have. “He always does a little bit I think.” 006 trailed with a glance at me.

“I do too.” She whispered. Widow didn’t respond, just put a comforting hand on the crown of her head. I could only hope she didn’t fully understand what she was saying.

“So you tried to swim away?” She asked. Black Widow patted her head. “Something like that.” I responded. My larvae’d wings twitched in their cocoon. No winged creature in their right mind would willingly swim anywhere but she didn’t need to know that.

“Eat your pellets Bee. It’s exercise day for the rest of you.” I pushed her plate towards her.

“Not you?” 006 questioned. I shook my head. “Bug-pin told me I’ll be called for endurance at 1700.” I gulped and tried to pass it off as a swallow of food. That punishment will be far less petty.

It’s torture, and the reason my wings are even reforming in the first place. Before 006 could respond a large crash and shouting sounded down the hall. An explosion shakes the tables and I cover my ears in pain. They’re sensitive enough to pick up up to 300kHz of noise let alone an actual bomb.

A siren could be heard beyond the ringing in my ears and the lights above flashed between bright white and complete darkness. Probably red.

“Insecta to your lockers: Code 60.” The robotic voice sounded. The words Code 60 bounced around in my head.

A break-in.

They’ve happened before, trying to escape through them has only led to more endurance training and failure on the whistleblowers end. “I repeat-“ the voice is cut off by static.

“-Super soldiers.” An entirely too human voice cut in. “This is project R.A.I.D. Lay down quietly or die fighting.” Static followed once again and silence with it.

I got up and pulled Honey Bee between me and 006.

“What do we do?” 030 whispered. We watched together as some of the newer numbers ‘powered up’ or ran around wild in fear. The numbers 015 and below either stayed seated calmly or got up to walk to their cages. Maggot stayed seated and he’s yet to make a wrong move. We’ll follow his lead.

“We stay put.” I whispered back. No heist had ever made it this far but that didn’t mean they’d be successful. And they didn’t seem to care that we were unwilling subjects based on the ‘Super Soldiers’ greeting.

Either that or they didn’t know. Either way Bug-pins and Red masks had already made their way in to heard the rowdier numbers with paralyzers and tasing batons, effectively taking them to their respective lockers.

It wasn’t long before the disembodied voice and those responsible for the bomb ran into the mess hall. Guns in hand and bullet proof suits. I covered Honeys masked eyes to shield her from what I knew was about to happen.

The Bug-pins were first of course. Shot down with a carful precision and mufflers I was more than grateful for. The numbers trying to fight back were second but their shots were less lethal. Intentionally aimed towards their kneecaps and shoulders.

It was always odd to see real faces, for both their human features and their expressions. The raw hatred was something even the best mask couldn’t replicate in its entirety.

008 was handled roughly and shuffled out followed by a couple other numbers being shoved out the same. At gun point.

A gruffer man approached us at last. He had dark skin and hair curlier than even my mothers. His body was built sturdy and bulky, his beard well cropped even around the scar that ran from his left temple to the right of his chin. He looked angry too but emotion could never scare me the way a lack of it would.

I held 030 tighter. “She’s only a kid. Please treat her well at least.” I murmured. The man’s face softened slightly and he nodded. Holding a gun up to Widow he gestured for us to follow suit. 006 put his hands up and shrugged unconcerned. Probably feeling much the same as me. We’ve had worse threats.

They took us to an inconspicuous van that could be mistaken for a work truck. The inside screamed military grade and bullet proof however.

We were cuffed and chained to its seats. No words passed between 006 and I but there was an understanding that at the very least we’d protect Honey.

This was usually about the time the Bug-pins came in and foiled their plans. And we got taken in for ‘endurance testing’ so that mistakes like getting caught wouldn’t be repeated.

But no one came except for the man.

“I’ll be watching over y’all until we leave.” Was all he said, sitting on the edge of the floor by the open doors of the van. Back to us and gun in hand.

The only ones of us in the truck so far were me Widow, Honey, Maggot and a handful of other early numbers. 025 and 026 joined as well at some point, they’re twin praying mantis with green pointed mask.

Another boy came up to our new handler, an easy smile played on his handsome features but it didn’t hide the stress pinched above his forehead. He had dark short hair and thicker brows, full lips and was probably of Asian decent. And he had the most tattered wings I’d ever seen. Enough so that you’d think they would have shed and re-cocooned already. But upon closer inspection they weren’t insect wings at all. No.

They were a birds.

Like that of an injured swallow.

And he shouldn’t exist. Bold to say as a fellow abomination but- where could he have come from? I look to 006 to see if he remembered there ever being an animal mutant at Arthropod but he only shook his head in equal puzzlement.

“The Blue masks were subdued but the Red ones were tougher. I’d say we have about 15 of their clutch which is exactly half. Not ideal numbers but it will have to do before they bring in the Purple Pins.” The birds voice was soft and slightly accented.

“I’d say this is success enough. No one has gotten this far since…” our handler spared birdie with a sideways glance. I didn’t like what was implied in that. Would that make him 000? A number no one would have thought existed because it’s not really a number at all.

Bird boy sent us an unreadable look. It almost felt like his gaze lingered on me but I was probably just imagining it. “Take off their masks. They’re their own people now. Let’s get going.” He ordered the much older man. For some reason the man actually listened and bid the other goodbye. Shutting the two doors and stepping back inside with us.

Me and the others watched him anxiously, wound up and ready to fight if we had to. Especially if we came with others we weren’t allowed to get attached to but did anyways. My gaze slid to the twin siblings holding each-others hands in a death grip. I held Honeys shoulder just a bit tighter and Widow did the same.

The truck was moving but it didn’t feel real. This has never happened. I don’t feel free. Any moment now a Red Pin will slam against us and catch us mask-less and clutching onto others that we aren’t permitted to care about.

But once again that doesn’t happen. We drive in complete silence and low murmurs for another half hour before the man stands up. Effectively killing whatever buzz there might have been. The time hadn’t made me any less tense or made this situation feel anymore absolute.

“My name is Milan but you can call me Mr. Moore or just Sir.” He let us absorb that information for a moment. “You have been captured by the group R.A.I.D. Rebels Against the Insect Devision. A team formed to combat the military superpower Arthropod.” He resumed, slowly walking around the space.

Though I have been with Arthropod the longest. Or at least so I thought. I actually didn’t know what exactly this company was though I had hope that it was at least illegal and not government run.

“As many of you know there is a war on the horizon. The People Vs the Country. Anarchy. And Artho is just one of many factions made to suppress our voices and our freedom. And it is the most concerning one.”

“Super humans.” He continued.

013 twitched in her seat at the word, and pulled at the pinchers her mask was built around. “Monsters.” She murmured. She pulled harder at the appendage. “They made us monsters.” She hissed. 026 reached over to sooth her.

I had no clue about any sort of war. I was only 5 when I was taken, I was probably about 18 now, and the world had no such dynamics back then. It was almost as much of a shock to find out about as getting this far way from the place I was raised has felt.

“While I don’t agree with that sentiment..” sir Moore trailed. “We do know that they plan to increase your numbers soon. To create more ‘monsters’” he curved his fingers into air quotes.

“To create soldiers-.”

“-Of course they can’t bully all of you into submission.” The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a rather insulting can of Raid.

“So they made plans to control you-“ he unscrewed the top to reveal a thick purple substance. “A concoction that’s almost been perfected through a different faction.” He tilted the can to show the whole van. Even with covered expressions the feeling of disgust and fear was potent.

“It’s a formula curated specifically for invertebrate, cordyceps that can only affect insects and your lowered body temperatures, its a strain that’s been manipulated to make you mindless, irritable and suggestion prone.” He re-caped the bottle.

“Right now we’ve taken half of you. Their trial runs. And we have plans to go back and get the rest.” He threw the Raid bottle behind him. “- to destroy their research as well. All of it. Hopefully with your willing intel.” He gestures to the van of traumatized individuals.

“For tonight however we only ask for your cooperation and non aggression in return for your freedom.” He finished.

No one so much as twitched in the aftermath of his speech. Except 006, who historically had never been ever to keep his mouth shut.

“And if we don’t?” He asks. Sir Moore shrugs and lazily points his gun at Widow. “You probably should.” Widow of course only fans the flame by laughing and waving his hands placatingly. Palms out.

“Can we take off our masks then? Since we’re free and all.” He shakes his chained hands just for irony’s sake. Mr.Moore sighs and puts his gun down.

“Of course.” It’s all the encouragement the car needs. 006 takes off Honeys first. Her eyes are a bright green but her bags are purple and deep. Her full face really encapsulates how young she is. Probably no more than 10.

Mr. Moore seems to notice this and frowns deeply. Widow unhooks his own mask next and breaths in the ‘fresh’ air dramatically. It had been years since I’ve seen his mouth or eyes let alone his whole face. Well actually I had never seen that, and it was surprisingly handsome. He had a Cheshire smile and and deep red irises to contrast his pale skin.

I look over to 008 again. The most levelheaded man I know, his mask is still on. I’d wager he was thinking the same thing as me. We’d been captured for too long to really feel free yet.

“You won’t take your mask off as well Uhm…” Sir trailed off, clearly implying he wanted to know my name. “001. I’m not convinced that we’re safe yet.” I grip nervously at my still damp clothes.

Moore raises and eyebrow at that, probably wondering why I’m wet at all. “He tried to drown himself today.” Widow offered in my steed. Bastard. I did no such thing.

One of the twins laughed from a distance. “Yeah and he won’t give you a name Mr.Moore he probably doesn’t even remember it. You’re better off calling him seppuku.” She snorted.

I scratched the top of my mask unfazed. They weren’t wrong.

Worrying at my bottom lip anxiously I look around the van. Everyone but 008 had taken off their masks. Sensing my hesitance Honey Bee reached for my hand and looked imploringly at the zipper behind my own.

“She’s right, I’m a kamikaze on a good day. Freedom is wasted on me.” I hum and make my decision. With itching and nervous hands I reached behind my head to unzip my mask. Widow looked on with mild interest. It didn’t bother me as much as the rest of the crowd also watching with bated breath.

008 had already saw the real me today, that should have been a sign. He was the only one turned away now as I peeled my mask off. I knew I wasn’t much to look at. My under eye’s probably as deep and purple as the others who had been living under high stress. Dark and almond shaped. My snub nose always felt just a little too sloped and my lips chapped since ‘moths didn’t eat or drink anyways’. My curls were definitely matted against my ears and face thanks to the sweat of the mask.

Murmuring and whispers followed my reveal and it didn’t help to settle me nerves any. ‘Hasn’t he been here 12 years?’ he looks younger than I thought’ and-

‘He’s a pretty boy huh. Who would have thought?’ Among other garbage. ‘He’s like a faerie with clipped wings’ was definitely my least favorite. Honey Bee at least looked to me with a kind smile and Widow simply smirked.

Moore cleared his throat. “Your name?” He asked again. Directly this time.

I let out a half crazed laugh. Maybe this is really happening. After all. I hadnt been asked that in years.

I shrugged.

“I don’t remember.”