Half-Dead

Eleven: The Making Of A Warrior(M)

  I checked the room for cameras and when I found none, tried to free myself.

I was wary of the glowing blue lights, but after a few minutes of talking myself into it, I lifted my wrists off the metal. The minute I touched the blue, a colorful string of banned words came out of my mouth. My wrists burned like fire and red lines were making themselves known on my skin.

"Damnit." I hiss, slamming my wrists against the metal part of the cuff.

The doors slide open and two people in black shirts, camo pants and black combat boots come in. The woman walks over towards the hovering table next to me, and the man stands by my feet holding a very sopisticated looking Airpad.

"What's going on?" I ask desperate for answers. They don't even bother to look at me. I turn my head to see the woman, reaching for a strange looking syringe with clear liquid inside. "What is that?" I question. They dont respond. "I said what is that?" I repeat louder.

I begin to struggle ignoring the pain in my wrists,but realize I wasnt getting anywhere. The syringe plunges into my neck, and the women backs off.
The man looks up at me then presses a button on his Airpad. I watch the blue lights around my wrists dim before shutting off.

I push myself off the chair in a hurry to escape.

"I would suggest sitting." The man says. I turn back to look at him before heading towards the door. I reach the door just as whatever they gave me kicks in, and I'm falling to the floor. My vision blurs and I can just make out the man reaching out to catch me.

"I told you to sit." Is all he says. The woman grabs my other arm and they drag me out of the room.
All I can see is the floor as the drag me through the halls. The one thing I did notice was how clean the floors were. They must have dragged kids through these halls pretty often, to keep the dust away.

A few minutes later, I feel myself being lifted and then dropped onto some sort of table. I practically yell at my brain to make my limbs move, but they are frozen in place.

"He should be out by now." A voice says.

"Just give it time, humans always try to fight." Another voice says. I try to look around but the lights are slowly fading away.

                      *      *        *

I slowly open my eyes, looking up at the white mattress above me.  I look down and see I'm wearing a white tee shirt and camo pants.  I sit up, and swing my feet over the edge.  Worn black boots sit by my feet.

 A pain goes through the back of my head and I put a hand up to feel a line of stitches near my neck.

I bring my hand back and rub my eyes. I freeze noticing little black numbers printed on my wrist.

What the-

A man comes in interrupting my thoughts. He's wearing a black shirt with a matching jacket, and camo pants with black boots. He has military cut black hair and piercing green eyes.

Kaine.  A voice says in my head.

"Ah you're up Ronan." He says grabbing a chair from my room and swinging it around to face me.

"What happened?" I ask exploring the black lines on my wrists.

"You don't remember?" He asks looking surprised. "Well you were on a mission to capture an escaped morph, and when you found her it was...well bad." He admits. "You hit your head pretty hard."

"I did?" I ask, running a finger along the line of stitches. Memories start coming back to me. My first mission, capturing a morph. Everything came back to me.  Martin was going to be pissed, I failed my mission.

"Martin, I...I have to report back."

"Don't worry all of your duties were reassigned." He says with a reassuring smile.  "If you need anything let me know." He says.

"When do I start back?" I question looking over at my boots. He smiles, more then I've ever seen him do in my life.

"Give it till tomorrow." He says before walking out the door.