Reprogrammed

Chapter One; "Hello, Newt"

     His cry of pain made you feel weak, preying on him like a psychopath but crying out with him. His dagger struck you once, twice, cutting at your chest in a bloody 'X' while wrestling around with you on the floor.

     "Alex!" You screamed, not for him to save you from wicked, or when you were lost in the cities. It was a gnarled, pained sound that made you bitter to this world down to your core.

     Your knees fell to his shoulders, blood seeping through the cuts in your shirt to stain his own as you tried to contain his dagger. You could almost feel the wind breezing past you now, ruffling your clothes and stinging your wounds. Soon it would stop and if one was not dead your mind would click off, brain dead. Only minutes now.

     You both had people above this box that you wanted to see but never in this way. You never wanted to step foot into the glade, let alone fight to the death to get there. This was the cruelest punishment wicked had ever felt and out of all the consequences you saw coming you never thought of this. You never considered Alex's life would be on the line.

     Wind wiped at your clothes, your knees pinning his shoulders while he tried to kick out with his legs. Your dagger raised, his wiped back, both sinking into flesh in one clean stab just as the box began to slow.

     Your fingers shook around the handle, the blade sunk into his heart while his was wedged into your side. Every breath made your skin flex over its ridged edge but just from where it was placed you knew it wasn't fatal.

     "Alex?" You whispered, holding your bloody hands to his face, "Alex!"

     His eyes flicked to yours, mouth parted but not able to say a word. Only his hand moved, tapping out one singular word against the metal flooring.

     Help.

     And you knew that if you knew more Morse code, he would have said everything that couldn't make it past his lips.

     "I won't do it again!" You screamed, screeching to the creators who would be watching your every move, "I won't do it again just make me kill them! I won't kill them Alex! I won't kill them!"

     He nodded, just the slightest, his fingers falling limp around the dagger's handle, falling to his side as his eyes went dark. He left the blade in your side, even in a blood thirsty frenzy he had still tried to protect you because surely you would have bled out if he had taken it with him.

     He didn't hate you, didn't despise you for this because he knew your word was good. He knew this was from wicked's control over your minds, it was wicked who forced you to this box. And ensuring only one made it out alive.

     You leaned your head to his shoulder, gasping at the pain from the dagger but having every intent on setting him at peace, "We honor the dead as we honor the innocent, hoping you find redemption in the arms of your fallen peace. May you find freedom beyond the bonds of wicked."

     You whispered this to him, the lights dying away below to leave you in darkness. You don't remember what generation of wicked's blood hounds had made the prayer. Something just for the deadly corpses who couldn't wipe the blood from under their nails. Driven to insanity, programmed against their moral code and falling from any hope of mercy.

     All you knew is that you saw it being repeated in murmurs from the people behind the glass when they had blood on their clothes and a dead body at their knees. You had saw it again in the streets of the Crank city, people resting their heads on the corpse's shoulder, muttering the same words. It didn't matter if the crank was past the gone, if the victim was a stranger or someone who had done you wrong. You learned there was no excuse not to show respect to the dead, especially if they were killed at your hand.

     Then you had to move away, grunting and crying out, until you were far from Alex's body and leaning against the wall. The box came to a stop, the ground went still and you were careful to not stir in risk of worsening your condition.

     You breathed shallowly, closing your eyes when footsteps could be heard above you. Survival to find humanity, that is all that you could hope for after you freed yourself from wicked.

     With the hum of distant voices, you feel your mind settle, the urges pass and adrenaline wears off. With every breath, memories slipped between your fingertips, falling away to nothing but you held on to two faces in your mind. You mustn't remember what happened here until you are safe enough to grieve.

     But this would be the only thing you would have, these two would only be yours, nobody was allowed to pry at them.

     Light flooded in from above your body, the warmth sunk into your skin, turning the air fresh. There was one shrill scream, gasps and gags but silence fell quickly. Curiosity was too strong to leave them repulsed for too long.

     "Slim it!" A voice yelled out, the demanding tone almost made your concentration slip. He was still alive, the older ones had been said to be killed off.

     The box shook as someone dared jump into the box, each footstep vibrated through your gut, shaking the blade that you tried to hold steady. They were uneven, used to be just soft pats on the tiled hallways to where you were held. No matter the surface you could recognize them.

     You refrained from holding your breath, feeling his presence as he knelt down at your side. One tentative hand came to brush your cheek.

     Slowly, as not to startle him, you opened your eyes, letting them adjust to the world.

     There he was, brown eyes and a worried brow. Isaac Newton

     Now known as Newt.