Chapter 6 - Revenge is the Best Medicine

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"Look alive, Sunshine. One-oh-nine (109) in the sky, but the pigs won't quit. You're here with me, Dr. Death Defying. I'll be your surgeon, your proctor, your helicopter, pumping out the slaughtermatic sounds to keep you alive. A system failure for the masses, anti-matter for the master plan. Louder than God's revolver and twice as shiny! This one's for all you rock-n-rollers, all you crash queens and motor babies. Listen up! The future is bulletproof, the aftermath is secondary. It's time to do it now and do it loud. Killjoys, make some noise!" ~ Look alive, sunshine

*WATCH THE VIDEO LINKED ABOVE*

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My whole body hurt.

Before anything else, that was the first thing I noticed. I felt like I had been hit by a semi-truck. No, scratch that, I felt like someone had used my body to repeatedly hit a semi-truck.

I was laying on a cot of some sort, the rough fabric smelling strongly of disinfectant. I opened my eyes slowly only to flutter them shut immediately due to the harsh bright lights. I wasn't sure where I was and my memory came back in fuzzy pieces. I remembered the research and the secrets I found. I remembered leaving to go home. And then, nothing.

I opened my eyes once more, allowing them to adjust to the light, and took in my location. The room was completely white with a single window on the wall in front of me. I could tell that it was suffocatingly small, like a jail cell almost. I sat up cautiously and nearly jumped out of my skin as I took notice of the other person sitting on the cot across from mine on the other wall.

She wore a white tank top and scrub pants that I noticed to be similar to mine. Her skin was tan, appearing to signify Mexican-American heritage, with long, dark curls cascading across her shoulders. Her brown eyes watched me intently, analyzing my every move.

"Glad to see you awake finally," She spoke with a small smile. "I'm Stacey, by the way. What's your name?" She raised a curious eyebrow.

"Skylar," I replied warily. I glanced around the room again, noticing a door on the wall opposite the window I now realized was barred. "Where are we?"

She sighed. "Welcome to the Retraining Facility, sponsored by our very own Better Living Industries," She replied, her words dripping with sarcasm.

"What?"

Stacey chuckled. "It's basically a prison camp they send 'unruly citizens' to to be 'retrained.' It's a load of bullshit, is what it is. But we can't do anything about it until we are 'promoted' to citizen ranking. Right now, we're a bunch of drugged up lab rats that they brainwash into doing whatever they tell us to, and if we don't, we're dead."

After I continued to stare at her with an utterly dumbfounded expression painted on my face, she managed to give me a more apt and slightly less sarcastic and pissed off rundown on what was actually happening.

We were in a place they called the Retraining Facility, which was, as BLI referred to it as, a place where they can fix us. It sounded more like a mental institution to me. They lock us up every night in these cell like rooms where we are expected to sleep on these horribly uncomfortable cots and then they unlock us in the morning, only to lead us to our "classes" where they teach us about how we need to be fixed. We then get one hour of "wandering period" where we get to walk around the large, fenced in yard before they lock us back up in our rooms. They feed us three times a day, but according to Stacey, it's not much of food, more just terrible tasting mush in a can called Power Pup. We are constantly guarded by Draculoids and a few BLI Officials.

Oh, and not to mention the medication they want us to take.

"Wait, so let me get this straight," Stacey interrupted my story of the prior night. "You found out that the Draculoids don't feel anything?"

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