The Black Rose

I endured three more months of Dr. Marlo’s mental preparation or cognitive dissonance he liked to call it. Once stripped of what little emotion that made me human, Dr. Marlo deftly put the pieces back together. The new Alexandra had become a master of control, manipulation, and observation, no remorse, no emotion, no fear, and most of all, no recollection of my former life.

Once finished with Dr. Marlo’s torture, I was then regifted to my favorite person, Nadine. Phase three was weapons training. I learned how to shoot every type of gun imaginable, how to fire a bow, throw a knife with pinpoint accuracy, build a bomb, destroy a bomb, mix a bomb out of ordinary ingredients, make weapons out of toothpicks, hairpins, anything readily available or on hand. In congruence with weapons, I learned medical training. I learned how to stitch, human anatomy and physiology, infection control, minimal surgical procedures, becoming a savant within months.

On month twelve, Nadine instructed I had made it to the fourth and final phase of my training. Seduction and manipulation put to the test. In this phase, I learned how to dress like a lady, act like a lady, put on makeup like a lady, wigs, disguises, accents, the whole nine yards. As Alexandra, flirtation, and sex were tools. It was something that satiated the boredom, something that added fuel to the fire, another level to the assassination video game.

My first two tests were on other trainees. I was introduced into the wild as an exotic new recruit. My objective was to lure and seduce my target, get him to tell intimate information about his former life. The first target, Ben, he refused to crack even after two months. No matter what moves I tried, he stood firm in his training. The second male, Noah, wasn’t so lucky. After the third sexual encounter, he melted under my erotic inclinations and charm. While I didn’t see Noah again after that successful night, I believed he was disposed of.

“You are a quick study,” Nadine smiled, with her constant furtive expression.

I roused from my boredom, the ninety-pound weight above my head too easy.

“Men are easy,” I shrugged. “They will reveal anything if a woman opens her legs to him.”

Nadine nodded as if to agree. “And women?” she uttered.

Nadine moved closer, her face shifting from one of skepticism to purpose. I swallowed slightly as she drew near. I smelled the sweetness of her breath. “Are women easy to crack?”

Her lips grazed mine slightly. My heart skipped, but I didn’t drop the weight. I had never been with a woman before and suddenly I felt like a novice.

“Women are complicated beasts,” she muttered. “We are constantly thinking, constantly processing, we may be quick to give, but you can never count a woman out, you can never guess for certain what a woman will do or what she is and isn’t capable of.” She whispered in my ear, her hand moving up my black training t-shirt.

My eyes gazed into hers. I didn’t say a word. My mind churned a mile a minute, sousing out every scenario, every option.

“I want to show you something,” she whispered, the gravel in her voice particularly coarse.

I gulped, dropping the weights heavily to the ground. I followed Nadine through the training door and to the nearest elevator. She hit “G,” and my eyes widened. “We are going to the surface?” I gasped.

She turned to me and smiled wide, a smile that I actually believe she meant. “I guess you are ready,” she shrugged.

Reaching the ground level, the elevator door opened, and before me was the inside of a massive greenhouse. I stepped onto the mulch, on earth, for the first time in fifteen months and two weeks. The fresh air and filtered sun-splashed over my face like cold water. I turned to glance at the elevator, which was fashioned to look like a rusted door from a dilapidated shed. A big sign saying “Keep out, Hazardous materials” over it. Clever.

My mind raced. I could make a run for it right now. I was faster than Nadine, stronger, but how far would I make it? What kind of traps might be laid out for me if I did? No, I needed more information.

“What is this?” I asked curiously.

“This is our cover. This greenhouse is a part of a research facility that studies plant properties for medicinal purposes, as well as genetic modification, but that’s not what I wanted to show you,” Nadine continued as she walked.

We strolled past the many rows of vegetable plants and flowers until we reached the back of the domed greenhouse. Roses. There were rows and rows of marvelous rose bushes, roses of almost every color, yellow, red, pink, blue, green, white, orange. “This is what I wanted to show you,” she swooned, striding into the thick of it.

“Flowers?” I asked a little unimpressed.

“Not just any flowers,” she sighed. “These flowers have been genetically modified to give off certain pheromones or scents. These scents are particularly effective in lowering the guard of your target, or making them fall asleep, or even killing them.”

She paused on a brilliant yellow bush. She picked one daintily, avoiding the massive thorns, and handed it to me. “Smell,” she offered.

My brows furrowed, “Will this kill me?”

“You do realize you are our most important asset, why on earth would I kill you?”

I relented. She had a point. I timidly took the yellow flower and brought it to my nose. It smelled sweet of vanilla and cinnamon. I took a deeper exhale as if my nose now had a mind of its own. God, it smelled good. I closed my eyes to focus on the intoxicating scent.

“What do you smell?” she muttered.

“I smell vanilla, cinnamon, and cloves?” I answered.

Opening my eyes, I could see Nadine’s face move closer to mine. My lips locked with hers as a thick fog shrouded my thoughts. What was happening to me?

Nadine didn’t pull back or reject my advance, instead, we kissed passionately. I didn’t know if this was the flower talking or me, but this kiss was different from any I had ever experienced. With men, I experienced a certain disconnection, a separation, a numbness, but with Nadine, I felt entirely out of control. Our lips parted as the kiss intensified, our tongues locking, and searching.

My brain had lost control. Was this a test? What was in that flower? Focus Alex, I thought to myself.

I began to push Nadine back towards the wall of the greenhouse, and while doing so, I swiftly reached for the small garden trowel on the table adjacent. She hit the wall with a slight thud, which was precisely the amount of sound and distraction I needed. We kissed feverishly, Nadine commanding my full attention, my brain entrapped in her intoxicating touch. Her hand slipped down my pants.

I exhaled, an uncontrollable moan slipping. My body yearned for her, but I had to remain focused, I had to keep control. As her hand slipped further and further down, I flipped the small shovel handle in my left hand and brought it swiftly to her neck. Her eyes wild with passion, the sharp edge cut dangerously into her skin. I had been waiting for this moment for months.

“Bravo,” she moaned. Glancing down at me, our eyes, our lips still dangerously close.

“What was in that flower?” I seethed.

“That little concoction acts similarly to Ecstasy or Molly, it hijacks your brain, giving you a sense of lust, passion, happiness. No ordinary human could beat it, but you did.”

I pressed the blade a little deeper, and she chuckled, grinning sadistically.

I could end it right now. Nadine wouldn’t torture me ever again, this place wouldn’t control me any longer, but I couldn’t move. While my brain had a firm lock on the plan and mission, the voice in between my thighs had other plans. I dropped the trowel down to my right hand with one swift motion.

“Congratulations, Alex, you have completed your training,” she commanded, grabbing her neck where a small gash remained. She wiped the blood and examined her red-stained fingertips.

I didn’t respond. I held the garden tool firm in my hand. Was this another test?

Ignoring my putrid glare, Nadine kept moving. I stalked behind her until we reached the center of the garden. A massive bush of solid black roses erupted like a fountain. My eyes widened as the trowel fell with a clang to the ground.

“I’ve never seen a black rose,” I whispered as if this was the most beautiful flower I had ever seen.

“That’s because they don’t exist. We created these,” Nadine gestured towards the evil-looking flower. The petals were silky, smooth velvet, and the stem and thorns were a dark gray-green. The flower looked as if it had died a beautiful death.

“What does this one do?” I exhaled in admiration.

“We call this one the kiss of death. All it takes is for a finger or a nose to graze the petals, and that triggers the flower to release its toxins, then one deep exhale and the person dies within minutes,” Nadine mused.

My eyes grew wide gazing at this miniature seemingly harmless flower. I was that flower. Small, genetically modified, but most importantly, deadly.