Deirdre’s hand closed around the helmet that encased Laura’s head, her grip firm and precise. Without hesitation, she lifted it, the metal creaking as it separated from Laura’s skin. The faint hum of machinery died, and an eerie silence fell over the room, broken only by the sound of Jeremy’s angry protests trying to find out her condition.
“Laura? Laura, can you hear me? Are you okay?”
The hacker’s face was pale, her features slack, and her eyes glassy and unfocused. Deirdre tilted her head, studying her as one might study a broken doll.
“Laura is not here anymore, Jeremy,” she smirked. “She’s an instrument now, a mindless puppet for her Queen.”
Laura’s gaze drifted upward, her eyes locking onto the Black Queen’s. There was no spark of defiance, no flicker of resistance - only a hollow emptiness, a void where her free will once resided. The Black Queen reached out, her fingers brushing against Laura’s cheek. The touch was cold, impersonal, yet it made the mindfucked woman shivered to the core.
“I must obey The Black Queen…” Laura drooled.
“That’s right, bitch. Say it again so there’s no doubt left in Jeremy’s mind.”
“I must obey The Black Queen…” Laura repeated, her brain awash by a wave of pleasure as the words fell from her lips. Her mind was a wasteland, a barren expanse where thoughts no longer dared to tread. The Black Queen’s control was absolute, a suffocating shroud that had consumed her. Her shadow had taken root and would not be dislodged.
“No!” Jeremy screamed, his voice echoing through the cold, sterile room. The Black Queen’s goons, their faces hidden behind sleek, metallic masks, tightened their grip on his arms, digging into his flesh as he struggled. The reporter bit his tongue as he twisted in their grasp, his feet scraping against the polished floor.
Deirdre’s thralls were unyielding, their strength unnatural, as though they were not entirely human. One of them drove a fist into his side, and Jeremy’s lungs burned from the pain. He doubled over, his vision blurring, but he refused to stop fighting. He couldn’t stop. Not now. Not when Laura and everything he knew was slipping away from him.
The Black Queen stood a few feet away, her silhouette outlined by the glow of the screens. Her voice made Jeremy’s blood boil. “How pathetic,” she said. “You think you can save her? You think you can stop me?”
“I’ll do whatever it takes to bring you down, bitch! Let her go!”
“Why would I do that when she doesn’t want to be free from my control? Laura, tell this cunt who and what you are.”
Laura’s voice was flat, devoid of emotion, as she spoke the words that cut through Jeremy like a knife. “I am a slave now,” she said, her tone mechanical, her eyes vacant. “This is how it is meant to be.” She stood still, her posture rigid, her hands at her sides, as if awaiting another command.
Jeremy’s face twisted in anguish, his eyes wide with horror. “Laura, no! Fight it! You don’t have to listen to her! You’re stronger than this. Please, listen to me!”
“I will not be fooled by you anymore,” Laura continued, eyes unblinking. “You’re next. The Black Queen will rewrite your mind. You will serve her. You will obey her. You will love her. You don’t have a choice. No one does.”
“You don’t mean that. My Laura is strong and willful and doesn’t bow down to anyone. I know she’s still there somewhere. Find her and let her out.”
“There is no out. There is no in. There is only The Black Queen. I'll obey my owner, and the sooner you do the same, the better it will be for you.”
Jeremy sighed, struggling to keep the tears from flowing down his cheeks. His friend and lover was gone, lost to the digital darkness that had consumed her.
The Black Queen clicked her heels on the floor. “Do you understand now how futile your resistance is, Jeremy? She was strong, just like you. But even the strongest fall. And you, Jeremy, will fall harder than anyone else. It’s your turn now.”
“I’d rather die than serve you!” he spat.
“Keep telling yourself that…” Deirdre smirked before giving her new slave another task. “Laura, I command you to put the helmet on him. Free him from his troubled thoughts.”
Laura moved without hesitation, her steps mechanical, her expression a mask of compliance. She retrieved the helmet from her owner’s hands. It felt heavy in her hands, a cursed crown that spelled out both salvation and doom. 
“Fuck!” Jeremy growled, the world closing down on him. 
Laura’s face remained impassive, unperturbed by his plight. She stopped in front of him, the helmet cradled in her arms, and said, “My Queen’s will shall be done.”
The helmet descended, its opening yawning like the mouth of some predatory beast. Jeremy’s screams were muffled as it encased his head, the sound of his voice echoing from within. The Black Queen watched with a satisfied smirk, her eyes gleaming with triumph.
Laura stepped back, her task complete, and stood motionless, observing the transformation about to take place. The Black Queen’s power was absolute, her control unyielding. And in that moment, it seemed that nothing could stand in her way.

* * *

As the helmet clamped down on Jeremy’s head, a suffocating wave of darkness enveloped him, thick and heavy, like tar pouring into his lungs. He gasped, but there was no air, only the oppressive weight of the void. 
Panic surged through him, his heart pounding against his ribs like a jackhammer. He thrashed, but his body was restrained, trapped beneath the helmet’s choking grip. The tar-like sensation deepened, a viscous, unrelenting force that dragged him under, drowning him in its inky blackness. He clawed at the helmet, his fingers scrabbling against the cold metal, but it wouldn’t budge. The world narrowed to its oppressive weight and the overpowering embrace of the tar.
Suddenly, the world around him began to distort and melt. The tar receded, replaced by the faint outline of a warehouse, lit with flickering fluorescent lights. Jeremy's footsteps echoed on the cold concrete floor.
The warehouse was not the same one he had dreamed about a few nights before, but it was still familiar, somehow. He wandered through a labyrinth of shelves and crates, each one stacked haphazardly and threatening to fall at any moment. The building’s layout seemed to shift around him, with corridors leading to dead ends, and doors opening into rooms that seemed to loop back on themselves.
Every step revealed something new—a file cabinet with his name on it, filled with documents that detailed every secret he’d ever kept; a server rack, its lights blinking, as if monitoring his every move. There was also a plethora of text fragments lining the walls, pieces of old articles he had written, now twisted and distorted.
At the far end of the warehouse stood a large metal door reminiscent of The Black Queen’s vault. It was ajar, inviting him closer. Jeremy hesitated, fear and curiosity driving him forward. As he pushed it open, a wave of cold air greeted him, carrying with it the faint whisper of Laura’s voice, calling his name.
Beyond the door was a room filled with monitors, each screen displaying images of Laura, her eyes vacant, her voice a monotone echo of the Black Queen’s commands. Jeremy’s heart ached, seeing her like this, trapped in a digital purgatory. He reached out to touch the screen, but it flickered, distorting her image into something grotesque, a twisted version of the woman he loved.
“I’m sorry I dragged you into this,” he said to himself. “Had I known, I would have never asked for your help.”
Suddenly, the lights dimmed, and the warehouse fell silent. Jeremy spun around, the shadows deepening, taking on forms that seemed to watch him. He knew he wasn’t alone. The Black Queen’s presence lingered, a subtle but undeniable force that pressed against his mind. He clenched his fists, determination rising within him. He would fight, resist her control, and find a way to free Laura and himself from this virtual nightmare.
As he turned to leave, a faint light caught his eye—a small console in the corner, its screen glowing with a message: “RESIST.” It was a clue, a beacon of hope in the darkness. Jeremy approached it, his fingers hovering over the keyboard, ready to take the first step in reclaiming his mind.
When Jeremy stepped back into the warehouse, the world around him began to spin and wobble, like a top losing its balance. The walls tilted, and the floor beneath his feet liquefied, causing him to stumble. He reached out to steady himself against a nearby crate, his fingers brushing against the cold metal as the warehouse continued to transform around him.
Everywhere he looked, spirals dominated the space. They were etched into the walls, rainbow swirling patterns that were as beautiful as terrifying. The floor was a mosaic of spirals, each one curling inward like a vortex, tempting him to step closer. Even the ceiling was adorned with them, spirals that appeared to rotate, drawing his gaze upward. Jeremy knew he had to avoid looking at them, but their mesmerizing dance made it hard to tear his eyes away.
He moved with care, each step a deliberate effort to maintain his balance. His legs shivered, and it was getting harder to find solid ground. A low, vibrating noise resonated in his ears, dulling his focus. Still, he pressed on. Resisting the Black Queen’s power was the only thing that mattered.
The spirals’ pull became stronger, a magnetic force that tugged at his senses, making his head spin. Every single object in the warehouse was now twisting and curling into those maddening shapes, each one a vortex that promised to suck him deeper into the Black Queen’s control. 
“Follow me,” another woman’s voice hammered at his temples. A fleeting shadow passed him by, leading the way toward a small room that had appeared out of nowhere. “Hurry before it’s too late.”
The shadow darted ahead, weaving between the twisting spirals that clawed at the air. Jeremy followed, drawn by the urgency in her voice, though the spirals around him reached out like gnarled fingers, grasping at his clothes and his mind. Each step demanded effort, as though he were walking through molasses. His head pounded with a sickly, sweet nausea, and the spirals swirled brighter, faster, making the room a chaotic kaleidoscope. Desperation gave him the strength to keep his feet moving.
The woman’s voice echoed again, more urgent this time, and he quickened his pace, his breath hitching in his throat. The small room ahead was a stark contrast to the chaotic warehouse—its doorframe simple, unadorned, and somewhat inviting.
As he stepped inside, the door creaked shut behind him, and the oppressive weight of the spirals faded, replaced by unexpected warmth. The room was tiny, no larger than a snug parlor, with walls lined in rich, dark wood and a ceiling that sloped downward, giving it the feel of a hidden loft. A soft, golden light spilled from a single, ornate lamp that sat on a round, oak table in the center of the room. There was a sense of comfort and peace inside that Jeremy hadn’t experienced in an eternity.
The room was cluttered but cozily so, filled with mismatched armchairs, their upholstery a patchwork of colors and patterns, and shelves that sagged under the weight of leather-bound books. A small fireplace crackled in the corner, its flames dancing. A kettle sat on a tiny stove, steam curling from its spout, and a faint hum of something simmering filled the air.
Jeremy’s eyes adjusted slowly to the warm light, and he saw the shadowy figure more clearly now. It was Deirdre, but not quite. She had the same face and mannerisms, but none of the feverish madness the businesswoman had exhibited in the outside world. Instead, this doppelganger was an old soul under the guise of a young woman, a mask that his brain could process. She wore a flowing robe with hues of deep purple and silver, and her eyes were fixed on him.
“Where am I?” he asked.
“A bubble inside your mind,” not-Deirdre replied. “She can’t warp your thought if she can’t find you, so you better stay put for a while. I’ll keep her at bay for now.”
“Who are you, and why are you wearing her face?” Jeremy clicked his tongue.
“What you should be asking is why she’s wearing mine,” the mysterious woman replied. “Have you found the truth you’ve been looking for, Jeremy? And if so, how do you like it?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Of course you do,” she giggled. “You’ve been dreaming about me and seeing me in your head for a while now. Your path was always going to lead you here, but the rest of your story has yet to be written, and it doesn’t have to end the way she wants it to.”
“You’re the Black Queen, too? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Don’t be obtuse, Jeremy. You’re thinking of me as some copycat, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. I didn’t copy anyone. If anything, she copied me.”
Jeremy’s confusion was palpable, but there was something in her presence that offered a fragile sense of comfort amidst the maddening chaos outside.
“I’m hallucinating,” he muttered. “I must be. Characters don’t become real. This is my mind trying to cope with what’s happening to me.”
“Believe what you want to believe, but know this: when things pass into legend, anything is possible. Besides, isn’t it so much better to be here with me, where you’re safe, than out there where Deirdre is trying to trap you inside your mind?”
“How do I know this isn’t the trap?”
“You don’t,” The Black Queen replied. “Like I said, believe what you want to believe, but if you leave now, you’ll be destroyed. Is that what you want?”
“Laura needs my help! I can’t leave her in the hands of that crazy bitch!” he exclaimed.
“You won’t be able to do a thing if your mind is ensnared, too. For now, assume Laura is lost to you forever, and keep your wits about you. Deirdre’s brainwashing is insidious, but imperfect. You couldn’t expect anything else from an imitation, after all.”
“What do I do?” Jeremy bit his lower lip, nervousness at the tip of his virtual fingers.
“You RESIST, of course!” The Black Queen said, emphasizing the word as if it were the only truth in the world. “Build your strength and push back against any negative influence trying to worm its way into your brain. This was always going to happen, but there’s still a way out of this. Do you want to be her pet?”
“I’d rather bash her brains against a computer screen and leave her to rot!”
“The only way you’ll get your chance if you stand your ground. Are you ready to fight for what you believe in, Jeremy?”
“Yes. Anything to bring her down.”
“Then, let’s do this!” said the mysterious woman inside his mind. The fight for his independence had begun.

((to be continued))