They watch them. They've been watching them, since birth. They've watched and controlled them their whole lives and now they are finally ready. They are ready to come in, to train, to be controlled once more, but in a different way. In a good way. It is time for them to protect their country. Like they were made to.
They aren't real humans, never have been. Even if they had come from a mother's womb they would never have been normal. They are genetically engineered super humans. The government has made them and watched them and controlled them. The government controls everything now. This is no longer a democracy, it is a dictatorship. Who the dictator is, nobody knows. All the American people know is that they have wasted their lives and their time into trying to create their dream; the American dream. Now, all they know is to wait and to watch the government at work, hunting down the bad guys and trying to keep the fragile peace that they have in place.
But it is a lie. There is no peace, only chaos. What courts chaos? War. The war has been going on for years, right under almost every living human's nose. The world governments are forced to unite against a common enemy. The Red Cats. A secret society with the intent of hunting down and killing all of the world's global leaders.
"Bring them in," Foster says, her grey eyes gleaming in the computer screen light, watching a video of one the new recruits. "I want all of them in, by thursday, if that isn't too hard for you, Graves," she sneers.
"Yes, ma'am," his British accent contradicts her American one. "Is there anything else you would like me to do in a ludicrous amount of time...ma'am?"
She turns to him, her grey eyes meeting his blue ones. "No, that will be all," she tries for a smile at the end of the sentence. Unfortunately, there is a war going on. And wars do not allow smiles to cross peoples' faces.
~ ~ ~ ~
The bright girl with the brown eyes is the first one to come in. Her short brown hair contradicts her pale, freckled face. And her soft brown eyes contradict her personality. She snarls as the officers let her go, pulling her arms roughly from their grasp as they drop her to the floor. The room is small, with padded cushions on the floor and grey walls to go with a white ceiling, a steel door stands behind her, two guards flanking it.
"What the hell are you doing?" she hisses, her eyes blazing with barely controlled anger. Her hair is matted and tangled, falling out of the ponytail she had kept it in. Her jeans are ripped and torn, marking significant battles and fights she had gotten into at a younger age. Her black t-shirt is crumpled and has small amounts of blood on it, all from the struggle of being brought here.
"Miss Eden Smith," Graves, the lab technician from before, stands in front of her. His long legs spread shoulder width apart, his blue eyes darting back and forth on a clipboard as he reads. Sharp cheekbones define his features, and his black hair is slicked back. "Age: 21, brown eyes, short brown hair," he reads off.
"Oh, so you can see, pretty boy? That's good, then you'll know to let me go before I rip you to pieces," she growls hotly.
"Temper," Graves finishes with a pointed glance her way. "Sister, age 11, deceased for three years."
Eden stares at him, dumbfounded, her temper vanishing for a split second before returning with full force. She throws herself at the man, her arms outstretched to tear him to pieces, to rip his flesh off for even mentioning her sister.
Graves waves his hand without looking up from his clipboard. Eden hits a forcefield full force, slamming into it and breaking her nose. She cries out in anger as her nose starts to gush blood, the red liquid flowing onto the ground. She glares up at the man as he looks patiently at her.
"You are not the only one with special powers, Eden," he says, much like you would say it to a child; condescending, small words, pointed looks, and careful tones.
"Then don't disrespect my sister," she spits, her voice growing nasally as she tilts her head back and tries to stop the bleeding.
"I was not disrespecting her, Miss Smith, I was simply stating a fact," he says calmly, the same tone as before. He looks down at his clipboard again, aqua eyes scanning.
"Yeah, well, mentioning her is disrespecting her in my opinion, British boy," her voice grows calmer but there are still definite razors in it. Two officers stand in the doorway of the room and she looks back at them, gives them a sarcastic wave, and turns back around. "What've I done wrong? Haven't robbed any place recently," she says casually. "If you were going to ask," she sneers.
Graves smirks, his blue eyes mischievous. "Interesting," he murmurs.
"What?" she growls.
"Nothing, I just thought that you, out of all of them, would notice, or at least understand."
"Understand what?"
"I am a part of a secret agency, we monitor any unusual activity. My name is James Graves, by the way." He gives her a weak smile. "I am bringing you, and a number of other children, in to-"
"I am not a child," she snarls.
"Train and become part of this agency," he continues, disregarding her comment and pacing in front of her. "You will become a team, and you will form a special optic squad that will hunt down and capture -kill if necessary- the enemy we are currently facing."
She laughs derisively, her brown eyes full of malice. "I am not doing anything you, or anyone says, pretty boy. Sorry." She gets up and walks toward the steel door that blocks anyone from hearing the conversation, still holding her nose toward the ceiling.
"That is not an option, Miss Smith," Graves says evenly.
"Well, that's too bad," she turns to face him, "because I'm leaving." Her eyes reflect anger, they flint like steel in the dim light of the room.
She turns to walk away again, getting to the beginning of the doorway before the two guards step in front of her, blocking her path. "Get out of my way," she growls, her voice sharp.
The guards stand resolute, blocking her pathway to freedom. "I have already told you, Miss Smith, you cannot leave. They will not move unless I give them the order to," Graves states behind her.
"We'll see about that," she mumbles. Without warning she attacks the guard on the right, gripping his head in strengthened arms and slamming it against the metal of the door. The second doesn't even have time to react before she has dispatched him as well. Both slump to the floor, unconscious. She looks back at James Graves, who's kept his features completely neutral, his face a blank slate as she stares at him, blood still dripping down her nose.
"Goodbye, Mr Graves," she says, "sorry to disappoint you."
YOU ARE READING
Inhuman Origins (On Hold)
Science Fiction"They aren’t real humans, never have been. Even if they had come from a mother’s womb they would never have been normal. They are genetically engineered super humans. The government has made them and watched them and controlled them. The government...
