“The Black Queen isn’t real, you crazy bitch!” Laura spat, her face contorted by anger. “Who the hell do you think you are? Release us right now!”
“Ah, you’re as feisty as everyone says you are,” Deirdre scoffed. “I admire your skills, but they would have been better spent in other projects instead of messing with mine. I didn’t want to do this, but you forced my hand when you accessed the Omicron files and here we are.”
“How the hell did you even find me? I was super…”
“Careful, yes you were,” Deirdre interrupted her with a smirk. “Unfortunately for you, my associate is quite the suspicious man and doesn’t believe in coincidences. He had Jeremy followed last night and then you came into the picture. Given your past record, it made sense for you to be involved in the security breach and you’ve just confirmed that, so thank you.”
“Wait… so this was all a bluff?” Jeremy gasped. “You didn’t know for sure?”
“No, I didn’t,” Deirdre mocked him, her voice dripping with condescension. “But then again, deception is always part of the game.” The lab’s harsh lights cast an eerie glow on her face, sharpening her features to an almost predatory edge.
“Who’s this associate of yours?” Laura asked. “Someone else in Tempest Studios?”
“That would be me,” a deep voice echoed behind Deirdre.
As the words hung in the air, a male figure came into view, stepping into the fluorescent light with an almost theatrical flair. He was tall, about six feet four, with a lean but rugged build that seemed as if it had been sculpted from the very metal of the machinery around them. A slick mane of dark hair fell just above his collar, framing a face that bore a perpetual smirk, hinting at his sleazy nature.
His sharp jawline was accentuated by a five o’clock shadow, lending him an air of nonchalance, while his piercing blue eyes glinted like sapphires, filled and amusement and something far more sinister. Clad in a fitted black leather jacket, he wore a white T-shirt with the colorful DarkSands logo underneath that seemed out of place in such a sterile environment. 
“I know you…” Laura declared.
“What?” Jeremy asked. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. I saw his face in a yearbook when I was looking for info on Simon Burke. They attended the same college together. I think his name is Matthew. Yes, Matthew Hollinger.”
“You have an impeccable memory, Miss Hawthorne,” the man pretended to clap, “but yes, you’re correct. Simon and I were friends once until Time drove us apart. He’s a good man, though. None of us would be here today without his imagination.”
“So you are trying to bring the stories to life…” Jeremy clenched his teeth. “Why? Why would anyone want to do that?”
“Why not?” Deirdre raised a quizzical eyebrow. “The Black Queen is a promise of power, and what could be more appealing than manipulating how other people think? Mind control is everywhere, Jeremy, from advertising to social media algorithms that determine what we’re fed with daily. The masses are being brainwashed all the time without realizing it and I deserve a piece of the pie. Simon’s ideas are the perfect blueprint for that.”
“Pure insanity!” Laura scoffed. “The world is already messed up enough as it is without the ravings of a bitch with a God complex.”
“My working drones disagree,” Deirdre snapped her fingers, and two blank-eyed men stopped in their tracks to come running. She pointed at her shoes, and they dropped to worship, oblivious to everything else that surrounded them. “This is what Power looks like,” she completed.
Jeremy’s stomach twisted into knots as he watched the men slide to their knees, their expressions devoid of any will or humanity. The gleam of Deirdre’s shoes reflected off their blank visages, as if they had become entranced by a sorceress wielding forbidden magic. She peered down at them with a triumphant grin, the corners of her mouth curling in delight.
“What did you do to them?” he asked, choked by horror and disbelief.
Deirdre stepped back, allowing him a clearer view of the two worshipers whose tongues flicked out like snakes seeking warmth.
“I gave them a purpose,” she replied. “Through the power of suggestion and a few well-placed commands, I’ve turned them into loyal subjects, eager to please.” She paused for effect, reveling in his discomfort. “I’m the Black Queen after all, and you know how much she loves her toys.”
“Snap them out of it, please!” Jeremy begged, averting his gaze.
“No. Being meek and subservient is their natural station in life. They’ll remain forever under my control until my plans come to fruition.”
“So he’s your slave too?” Laura asked, pointing at Matthew.
“I’m nobody’s slave. We’re partners,” he replied.
“Really? Because the Black Queen has no partners. She ensnares everyone she comes across and brings them to heel. Why are you so sure she won’t fuck your mind too when the time is right, huh?”
“Ignore her,” Deirdre raised her right hand. “Miss Hawthorne’s only purpose is to sow discord. You did well, Matthew, but I’ll take it from here now. Go back to the studios and if anyone asks where I am, tell them I’m on an urgent meeting with our investors.”
“Are you sure, Deirdre?” he muttered, upset at the thought of being dismissed from her presence. “I can help. I want to!”
“You’ve done enough for now. If you want to help, this is what needs to be done. I’ll take care of our guests.”
“Ah, look who’s being sidelined already! Off you go then. You won’t be missed.” Laura said. Deirdre was right: she wanted a little mayhem and confusion while she pondered her next move. Being trapped underground in the middle of nowhere wasn’t ideal, but not all hope was lost. From the stories she had read, the Black Queen’s ego could be used against her, so if she played her cards right, there was still a slim chance for success.
Matthew did not try to hide his discomfort but complied with Deirdre’s wishes, anyway. He bid his farewell and headed toward the elevator to return to the surface and the world everyone knew.
“Please keep me posted. We’ve worked too hard on this project already to have our efforts jeopardized by two meddling fools,” he said as the doors were about to close.
“You’ll know everything you need to know, don’t worry,” Deirdre frowned.
With her partner gone, she commanded the two men at her feet to return to their duties and rubbed her hands. The goons at her service continued to hold Jeremy and Laura at gunpoint as she said,
“Ah, things are so much quieter around here without his grating voice in my ears. Now, since you’ll be staying with us for a while, why don’t I give you a tour of the facilities? You’re curious, right?”
“That’s not the word I’d use…” Jeremy shook his head.
“Aww, cheer up, Jeremy! It’s not every day you get to see a legend come true. This would be quite the story, if you were allowed to write it, that is. Shall we go?”
With a flourish, Deirdre beckoned them forward, her heels clicking against the polished floor as she strode into the heart of her subterranean lair. It was foolish to play her games but even more not do so. Laura held Jeremy’s hand, and the strength of her grip said it all: let her talk. At least, we’re safe for now.
They walked past rows of computers and complex machinery that defied Logic and Reason, filled with blinking lights, screens, and levers. Laura recognized some designs from the schematics she had downloaded, but so much of it was new and fascinating in a morbid way. Under different circumstances, she would love to tinker with them all and find out what they were all about but now was not the time to dwell on what ifs and other pointless musings.
“This place looks expensive,” Laura said. “Is this where all the money from DarkSands goes to? To fund your maniacal desires to bring a character’s whims to life?”
Deirdre turned, her lips curling into a sly smile, illuminated by the soft glow of the myriad screens that surrounded them. “Ah, but my dear Laura, you misunderstand the true nature of this operation. DarkSands is a cover—a charming façade to entice the uninformed and to distract from the real ambition at play here.” She waved her hand as they continued deeper into the labyrinthine facility. “Some of the money from the game is used here, yes, but I have other investors betting hard on my success, people like me who’ve come to understand that the current status quo is rotten, and that change is necessary more than ever. The technology we’ve developed will give them what they want but first… I get to have some fun.”
“And did those investors join you of their own accord or did you use your technology to persuade them to see things your way?” Jeremy asked.
Jeremy and Laura exchanged glances, their expressions a mixture of trepidation and dread. They walked behind Deirdre, flanked by the silent sentinels who cradled their weapons with casual indifference.
“Don’t ask questions for which you already have the answer, Jeremy,” Deirdre replied.
“I thought you said the stories were nonsense, so what changed? Did you just wake up one day, decided they’re not, and started moving Heaven and Earth to make a point?”
“Of course not, because that would be ridiculous!” Deirdre laughed in his face. “I told you what you wanted to hear when you interviewed me, Jeremy. I’ve always liked Simon’s ideas despite the way he presented them, but I wasn’t dumb. I knew the technology he idealized was still many years away from becoming true, and so I waited. I kept the concepts in the back of my head until the moment was right and here we are. All his darkest fantasies are coming true.”
She stopped at the far end of the giant laboratory in front of a giant vault door that was thicker than her physique. Its surface shimmered like liquid mercury, reflecting the myriad colors of the machines around them.
Deirdre placed her hand on a circular panel that stood recessed in the door’s center, the metal cool against her skin. With a deliberate motion, she traced her fingertips along the engravings surrounding it - a sequence that seemed almost ritualistic. The air shifted as though the vault had awoken from a long slumber. A series of whirs and clicks followed, echoes reverberating through the laboratory as intricate mechanisms within the door engaged.
The door opened with a profound creak, the sound resonating like the tolling of a distant bell, announcing their entry into the hidden world beyond. Inside the vault lay another room dominated by the circular VR chamber in the center, its sleek design reminiscent of a sacrificial room, but dedicated to the gods of technology. The walls curved around them, adorned with luminescent patterns that pulsed as if responding to their presence.
Scattered throughout the chamber were computers and tables cluttered with gleaming tools, wires snaking in and out of ports like veins through a body. Shelves lined with helmets and glasses stood against the walls, welcoming them with malicious intent.
“This is what you wanted to see, yes?” Deirdre caressed the VR chamber. With its impressive size, it was like an enormous blink waiting to blink and rewrite reality as it pleased.
“Omicron,” Laura mumbled. “You built the goddamned thing!”
“I did more than build it - I perfected it! When Simon wrote his last story almost twenty years ago, this is how he envisioned it: a VR device that interacted with the user’s brain to generate a dreamlike world specific to that person alone. By tampering with the brain’s signals, the Black Queen turned every conceivable fantasy into a brainwashing sequence but there was one problem. The computations were astronomical, and the chamber itself was too big and impractical. It would never work the way it was intended to. Luckily, all those problems are way behind us.”
Deirdre walked past the giant chamber, grinning. With a deft motion, she reached for one of the VR helmets perched on a nearby shelf, its surface gleaming like obsidian under the lab’s fluorescent lights.
“This,” she declared, holding it aloft like a trophy won after a fierce battle, “is the culmination of years of research and innovation! Behold my masterpiece!” The helmet hummed in her hands, as if recognizing its own significance.
“It’s just a fucking VR helmet,” Jeremy spat, already tired of her antics.
“No, it’s not,” she said. “This is Omicron 2.0, all the ambition of that first design with the latest advances in miniaturization inside the helmet. This unit taps into people’s thoughts and alters them, a portable enslavement machine disguised as high-end entertainment. This is how The Black Queen will take control of it all.”
That’s impossible!” Jeremy exclaimed. “It’s science fiction, nothing more!”
“All the greatest scientific advancements in the history of mankind have been deemed impossible until proved otherwise, Jeremy. My thralls are the living proof that the technology works. Every single one of them has had their minds rewritten by Omicron, but if seeing isn’t enough for you, perhaps it’s time for a demonstration.”
“You’re not putting that thing on my head, Deirdre!”
“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want, Jeremy, but to be honest, you’re not that useful to me as a slave. Your friend, on the other hand… her hacking skills make her an asset I intend to use for the furthering of my agenda, and you get to watch as she becomes an obedient slut… Lucky you!”
“I think I’ll pass…” Laura growled. “I have no interest in being a madwoman’s bitch.”
“Ah, if only you could refuse me! You went to so much trouble to break into my files and find out what hid behind the curtain that it’s only fair for you to see how the technology works firsthand. Soon, you’ll see what everyone else in this facility sees - that it’s an honor to be my property. The Black Queen is power, the Black Queen is control…”
The goons grabbed Laura, their hands rough and unyielding, immobilizing her as Deirdre prepared to place the VR helmet on her head. The weight of helplessness bore down on Jeremy as he watched, paralyzed by fear and rage. He pushed against the invisible walls of his limitations, but no amount of protest could alter the course unfolding before him.
“Let her go!” he shouted. The words echoed through the vault, swallowed almost instantly by the hum of machinery that filled every corner with a chilling vibrancy. But all Deirdre did was smile - an unsettling expression that danced across her features like shadows flickering in candlelight.
With a calculated slowness, she approached Laura, the helmet gleaming in her grip. Its surface reflected distorted images of Laura’s terrified face and Jeremy’s anguished eyes. “Oh, Laura…” Deirdre cooed, “Try not to struggle too much or you’ll find this to be a very painful experience. As for you, Jeremy, watch and learn what happens to those who stand in the way of royalty.”
Deirdre slipped the helmet over Laura’s head, adjusting the straps with a sickening sense of satisfaction. The device settled against her skull, its polished surface pressing against her temples, creating an unsettling intimacy between machine and mind. The visor clicked into place, sealing Laura in a cocoon of darkness as it enveloped her vision.
“Let the show begin,” The Black Queen declared.

((to be continued))