The side doors slid open again and we hopped out. I looked around and saw that we were surrounded by dusty old brick buildings. The van was parked in the courtyard of what appeared to by some sort of old factory. I looked up and saw large, red letters that were mostly faded, painted across the front of the building above two huge wooden doors that looked as if they were from another era.

I heard another door slam, and looked to my left. There was the sound of movement over the gravel of the courtyard as someone – presumably the driver – rounded the van and came into view. After of few seconds of waiting and listening, someone coughed awkwardly. I looked down to see a light-haired man occupying a wheel chair. He raised his hand up to me before and I shook it hesitantly.

“Artie Abrams at your service. Everyone else here calls me Specs. Please don’t. “

“Uh... Okay” I was confused, to say the least. “What...
I mean how- Are you-?”

“Let me guess. You’re wondering how a guy in a wheelchair can be such a badass driver, right?”

Completely unfazed by my shocked expression, he continued and began to roll himself towards the doors. In a daze, I followed after him. “You see,” he continued, “I rigged up the van so that I can control everything by flicking a couple of switches on the steering wheel. No need for pedals means no need for legs.” He chuckled to himself as we crossed the threshold of the building.

As Artie wheeled himself inside, he spun himself around – how does he do that? – and made a grand sweeping gesture with his arms , “Welcome to The Sorority, my friend.”

The room I now found myself in was huge. We were standing in what appeared to be an old factory floor, now completely cleared of machines, and sparsely littered with bits of furniture. A winding set of metal stairs, led up to a metal gangway, where I saw Porcelain and Satan talking to a tall scary-looking blonde woman.

The sound of a wolf-whistle to my left made me jump.
“Damn. Who’s the eye-candy?” I turned to see a tall, attractive brunette walking towards me. He saddled up to us with what I’m sure was supposed to be a sexy swing of his hips. He slung his arm over my shoulder and leaned in close, whispering in my ear, “Now, sweetheart, how about I take you upstairs and fuck you so hard you’ll end up like our dear friend Specs here.”

Partly in disgust, I looked away from him and raised a curious eyebrow at Artie, who rolled his eyes. “First off, that is not how this-” he gestured to his wheelchair, “- happened. Secondly, Seb stop trying to screw the new kid. He just walked in the door, for heaven’s sake!”

I felt a sort of misguided gratitude towards Artie in that moment. While I didn’t know what I was doing here or what would happen to me, I was glad to at least have someone who appeared to be on my side. That didn’t mean I wasn’t scared shitless though. ‘Cause I was. The uncertainty was terrifying, though I counldn’t tell if it was from fear, or the fact that ‘Seb’ still had his arm around me, and his other hand was now trying to acquaint itself with my belt buckle. God, this guy was a creep.

“Hey!” A familiar voice shouted. I looked up see Porcelain descend the steps, and begin to saunter – fucking saunter, who does that?! – towards us. I watched his hips appreciatively as he neared us. Just ‘cause I was scared, that didn’t take away from the fact how goddamn hot this man was. “Take your dirty little meerkat hands off of him.”

“Oh, come on, Kurt.” Seb whined, “Usually you let me play with your toys.” He finished, grinning suggestively. I felt a sudden need to throw up.

Could this guy be any more of a leech?

“I promise I’ll give him back in one piece...” Seb trailed off, pausing to look up and down my body once more. “Then again, maybe not.”

Yes. Yes, he could.

“Give it a rest Sebastian. He’s way out of your league.” Porcelain- Kurt- whatever said as he picked Sebastian’s hand up off my shoulder, holding it between his thumb and index finger as if the fact that he had to touch Sebastian was physically repulsive to him. Maybe it is, I thought as I observed the bitch glare he was giving Seb.

“Now, kids. Stop bickering. The first sign of any animosity between you and you can kiss your sorry asses goodbye.” The scary-looking blond woman declared as she descended the stairs.

“Yes, Miss Sylvester.” Both Kurt and Sebastian spoke at the same time. Sebastian straightened up and stepped away from me, but I could still feel his eyes roaming over my form. God, I finally get away from one pervert, and immediately get thrown in with another. I have the shittiest luck.

Miss Sylvester came closer, her eyes critical as they bored directly into mine, Satan following closely at her heels. “Name?” she asked, mouth turning down at the corners.

“Blaine Anderson-Berry.”

“Occupation?”

“Uh, I was a secretary... until someone killed my boss.”

Miss Sylvester smirked knowingly. She turned to look over her shoulder, at Satan, “Santana, make sure we have an extra bed made up tonight. New guy needs a place to sleep.” She turned to Kurt, “Lady Lips, go practice pouting or something. Doe-Face here and I need to have a little chat.”

Kurt harrumphed and stalked off towards the courtyard again. Santana rushed off, which seemed peculiar to me, she doesn’t exactly strike you as the kind of person who is quick to take orders from other people. Artie and Sebastian started arguing about something I couldn’t quite make out.

“Walk with me Doe-Face.” Miss Sylvester announced as she walked off towards the stairs again. I followed after her, curious but filled with a sense of trepidation. I’d barely said a word since I arrived, and I still had no idea what I was actually doing here. Hopefully, Miss Sylvester was about to shed some light on the situation and give me some much wanted answers.

We walked along the gangway, silent except for the metallic sounds of our steps. Turning right, we walked down a short corridor and Miss Sylvester placed her hand on the doorknob and paused.

“Do you have friends Doe-Face? Girlfriends? Boyfriends?” She asked.

“No, ma’am.” I replied, unsure where the sudden etiquette had come from.

“Family?”

“Estranged.”

“Are you particularly attached to any part of your life at the moment?”

“No, ma’am.”

Her mouth pulled up at one side in an almost sinister smirk. “Good. That’s what like to hear from my new recruits.”

“Recruits?”

She ignored me and continued, “What you learn beyond this door cannot be unlearned, it cannot be unseen, and it cannot be stopped. Prepare yourself, Hobbit. From here on out, everything changes.”

With that she began to turn the doorknob.
***

I don’t remember much about my early childhood. I have vague, almost-there-but-not-quite memories of my dad, but no clear picture of him in my head. What I do remember is that he used to work a lot, and he was hardly ever at home. I have no recollection of any type of mother figure, so I guess she wasn’t around at all. It was just me.

And my brother, Cooper.

He looked after me when we were younger, that much I was clear on. No matter where dad went or how long he was gone for, I always had Coop. He took care of me, like a big brother should. And I idolized him, like a little brother should.

But then things changed. One time, dad didn’t come back for months. Coop and I weren’t worried. We could take care of ourselves. But, you see, we had this neighbour. She was an old lady, no family, no one ever came to visit her. She was always looking out her front window, waiting, watching. Nosy bitch. Just had to know everyone else’s business. She kept asking Coop and me about dad, and if he was around because she wanted to “have a word with him”. Yeah, right. She was just fishing for details.

To anyone who watched the neighbourhood as much as she did, it was obvious dad wasn’t there. So she called the social services. At least, I’m pretty sure it was her. No one else cared enough or paid enough attention to us.

We were put into care.
I was 8 years old at the time. Cooper was 9 nine years older than me. Because of the age difference we were separated. I went into a children’s home, Coop went... somewhere, I’m not really sure where. Bottom line is I haven’t seen my brother in over 12 years. I don’t know what happened to him, or what happened to my dad.

On a brighter note, I spent only a year in care before I was fostered, and eventually adopted by a very nice couple: the Berrys. Hirim and LeRoy were great parents, and their daughter Rachel was a wonderful sister to me. Yet, as the years passed, I felt myself growing distant from them. As I got older, I began to feel like there was this great, gaping hole in my life where my father and brother should have been.

I know the Berrys loved me, but there was something deep down inside me that rendered me incapable of loving them back. Don’t get me wrong, I was extremely grateful for everything that they had done for me, but there just something missing.

And now, as I walked across the threshold of an unknown room with Miss Sylvester, I suddenly felt something click into place. It was like a sense of rightness, of familiarity, of being in the right place at the right time. Something I had never felt growing up.

Here, in an old building, full of potentially deadly strangers, I felt as if I belonged. As if I’d finally come home. Somehow, deep in my gut, I knew I was surrounded by like-minded people who shared my views of the world. Somehow, I knew that being here in this moment was exactly right.

I pulled my attention back to the room surrounding me. It was a huge expanse, disturbed only by the great machine which took up most of the central floor area. I watched as the old fashioned mechanism moved, listening to sound of the wooden component as they bashed together.
Miss Sylvester was still talking, but I hadn’t heard a word she said. I quickly pulled myself back into reality before she could notice I wasn’t listening.

“- and what you seem before you is a loom. And not just any loom. “ She turned to look at me, “How are you on your mythology, kid? What do you know about the three Fates?”

“Nothing, ma’am.”

“Still with the formalities. I knew there was a reason I liked you, Short Stuff. Keep it up,” She turned again, and began walking towards to the top of the room, where the loom was weaving a very plain looking white cloth. She pulled a handle which stopped the contraption before she spoke again.

“The three sisters of Fate are said weave the fates of every person who has ever, and will ever live, on a loom just like this. Each individual is represented by a golden thread, and when that thread is cut, the person’s life comes to an end.” She paused, I assume it was for dramatic effect, but I didn’t really see where she was going with this fairytale.

“A thousand years ago, a group of weavers discovered a pattern in the threads of the fabric they weaved. The Code, at it came to be called, could be interpreted by counting the threads which had been woven incorrectly.
If an incorrect thread was woven above another it represents the number one. If it is woven under, then it means a zero. Binary Code. The end result is a group of names.

“This group of weavers formed an ancient group of assassins. They called themselves the Sorority. They took the names the loom gave them, and they executed each one, according to the will of Fate.”

“Wait. Executions? Assassins? I don’t understand what any of this has go to do with-“

“And here I thought you were smart, Anderson.” She interrupted my confused rant, and I was about to interrupt her when I stopped. Wait. The way she said that name, almost with a sense of intimacy, of familiarity...

I heard a different voice in my head, then.

I knew your father.

He was the greatest assassin who ever lived-

“Before, he said- Porcelain said that he knew- he said that my father was...” I trailed off. This couldn’t be true. What she was saying couldn’t be true. A secret society of assassins, killing people because a piece of thread told them to?

And my father was one of them?

Oh, god. I felt a panic attack coming on. This was ridiculous, it didn’t make sense. And yet...
It would explain a lot. Why dad was never at home, perhaps even why he disappeared. And why Porcelain and Satan were at that bank. Why they killed Schue, why they killed one thief and left the other two.

“I can’t- I don’t- I mean, how-“

“I can see you’re going to need time to process this. I’ll have Santana show you to your bunk. You’re one of us now, Anderson. Get some rest. We’ll start your training tomorrow.”

“Wait-“ I started to call, but Miss Sylvester had already stalked out of the room.

I stared at the sheet of linen in front of me. What hidden messages did it hold? Was there a name somewhere in there, just waiting to be discovered, waiting to serve as a death sentence to some unknown person?

My breathing was laboured, and I felt nauseous. I need to get out of here.

Just then, Santana appeared in the doorway. I barrelled past her, down the steel steps and out into the courtyard, gratefully sucking in deep breaths of fresh air. I looked back at the building and thought about the individuals within it. About the loom. About the Sorority, and the assassins. About Fate.

What the hell have I gotten myself into?