~~~Superstes~~~UNDERGOING MAJOR EDITING

Awa'atlu gathering P 2.

Jake's breath wavered. 

Quaritch laughed, pressing a hand to his stomach. "Not with a bullet, colonel. Just another harmless tranquilizer dart, and maybe a blow to the face." 

Behind Jake, Neytiri hissed defensively, her tail waving behind her. 

"Now, I knew you had kids, but how many, exactly?" the demon continues, "I ain't never seen that one before. He must be the oldest, poor kid was scramblin' and fightin' to keep us away from his siblings." Quaritch rubbed a purple, bleeding bruise on his cheek. "He's strong, ya know. I'd thought we'd have to actually put a bullet in his skull. Seems like he survived the last." 

Jake snarled at him, "I won't let that happen." 

"I guess you learned from your mistakes." 

Before Jake could react Quaritch pulled a gun-looking device from his holster and pointed it at him, "Sleep tight, Sully." 

He pulled the trigger.

                                                                                      ~~~

The room was empty, cold. There was nothing in it expect for a table that stood in the middle of the floor, centering the glass walls that surrounded the unconscious teenagers. Even before he was fully awake, he smelled the sterile air that was similar to the lab back at High Camp. His nose twitched, and he pulled himself into a sitting position, groaning and clutching his head. "Crap."   

Then Neteyam remembered, and panic flooded his insides. His eyes widened and he immediately looked around at his new surroundings, his stomach twisting into knots. Lo'ak and Fe'ya were unconscious near the legs of the table, carelessly tossed onto the floor like a useless object to be thrown away. Quickly, he scrambled over to them and checked them for injuries, flipping them over and lifting their legs and arms to make sure there was nothing too serious. To his pleasure, all he found was bruises and minor cuts.  

Neteyam rolled Lo'ak onto his back, his chin wobbling nervously. He still wouldn't be able to see internal injuries. "Lo'ak, wake up." he hissed, "Lo'ak, wake up!"

He shook his brother harshly like a little rag doll. But Lo'ak didn't open his eyes, move, or make a sound. Breathing heavily, he turned to Feya and gripped her shoulders, his ears flat against his skull. He tried to peel her eyelids open, but when he let go, they remained glued shut. Growling in frustration, Neteyam whipped around to find Kiri--but she was nowhere to be seen. He smacked his fists against the hard floors like a deranged animal, before he reeled back and pounded his hands against the glass walls at the scientists who worked outside. 

The sound of his knuckles smashing the windowed walls trumpeted in his aching head, but he proceeded anyway. "What have you done with my sister?!" he shouted. 

The scientist man hardly even glanced at him, clacking away on his computer, only lifting his eyes when he took a sip of his drink.  

Neteyam's tail waved about angrily, slapping the sides of his thighs. He pressed his hands to the window, causing the glass to fog slightly over his heavy panting. The man still did nothing, but his uncaring gaze skid over Neteyam's hands and he turned, calling over his shoulder. "Hey, colonel? This one's got three fingers." 

He wasn't sure how he could heat the man's words--he didn't see any holes or vents in the ground or walls where sound could reach inside. 

A moment later, Quaritch came striding into the room with stitches sewn across his purplish cheekbone. Neteyam swallowed thickly. He didn't think he'd punched him that hard.