End Of Days

44: Reckless

Landon waited only a day before the experiments truly began.

Tommy's eyes snapped open as calloused hands closed around his biceps, the glimpses of dreams ripped violently from his clutches as he was hauled to his feet with a strangled cry. He thrashed and struggled viciously, his fight or flight instinct going haywire as he was tugged towards the door.

He remembered where he was all too quickly, and suddenly the men who had grabbed him so tightly made sense. They wore combat gear, with guns and batons holstered on their belts and tinted visors that covered their eyes and shielded their faces. They were strong enough to pull him from the room as though he weighed nothing. Even in his panicked state, Tommy knew that they had been trained specifically on how to transport unwilling prisoners.

He had been in this situation enough times by now to know that struggling would get him nowhere– in a competition of brute force, the guards would win every time. Tommy weakened his struggle as they neared the door of his cell, preparing himself as he sucked in a deep breath, willing away the panic. The guards didn't seem to notice, barely sparing him a glance.

It was when they reached the hallway that Tommy got a little more creative.

He looped his foot around one of the guard's ankles, and pulled as hard as he could. The result was, admittedly, underwhelming at best. The man stumbled slightly and muttered a curse under his breath. Tommy's snarl shifted into a smug grin.

The guard paused, visor tipping slightly towards him. Tommy looked where he expected the man's eyes to be, and slammed his foot into the man's knee.

It was never going to do very much damage. The guards wore protective combat gear, and Tommy had been missing his shoes ever since waking up in the lab. But judging by the way the man stiffened, Tommy had achieved his goal. His smirk returned, as victorious and smug as before. "Yeah, that's–"

The guard shifted only slightly before his hands closed around Tommy's collar, and in an instant Tommy's back was being slammed against the wall, the air knocked from his lungs. "Did I touch a nerve?" He asked, fighting for breath.

"You little shit." The guard hissed, one arm bracing Tommy against the wall and the other brandishing his baton. He held the device up, and the end crackled with electricity. That wasn't ideal.

Tommy tried his very best not to let his confident facade drop. The baton pressed beneath his chin, and the guard's mouth twisted into a vicious sneer. "Not so tough now, are you?" Oh, so he enjoyed his job. Yeah. That made Tommy hate the prick even more.

"Garcia." His companion hissed, arms tense by his sides, head scanning the corridor.

"Pretty sure I'm the most valuable person in this goddamn city." Tommy taunted, pulling together all that anxiety and fear and anger and pushing it into his words. He grinned up at the man, even as the end of the baton was pressed into his flesh. "So go ahead. Make the biggest mistake of your career."

The guard–Garcia– sneered down at him. His grip on the baton didn't waver, and neither did Tommy's violent grin. This would not break him.

He had survived far worse than this, and he would not be intimidated by a wannabe police officer in the literal apocalypse.

The baton returned to its holster, and the hands returned to his biceps. "That's what I thought." Tommy bit out as he was tugged roughly down the corridor.

He didn't drop his victorious smirk until they entered the elevator, and even then the corners of his eyes crinkled when Garcia tightened his grip or shifted his footing into a slightly wider stance.