Alex Mars let himself be led into the generals' office-for the first time. And it was quite impressive.
It had a tiny library with books such as The History of the U.S. or Martial Arts Skills, then 2 massive desks with numerous chairs, and a whole big collection of weapons, gleaming and old, on one side of the wall. One big window showed the forest and the training space for the newbies.
Hale pointed to a seat at the side, then sighing, rigidly sat on one himslef at the end. He didn't smile at Mars at all and his fists were clenched.
"Explain yourself," The man's voice boomed in the room after seconds of silence.
Alex almost wanted to laugh his ass off-maybe the general had taken that out from a movie dialogue, and he unfortunately seemed like an unlikely man to do that...but Alex knew better than to giggle in the man's face, and his face was very smooth when he opened his lips.
"Excuse me?"
Alex Mars just wanted process and willed the agony of death to be short to follow in the near future and end quickly, and even as he said his words, he knew that the two-word dialogue contest was going to consume a long time.
"Mars. In your test, you were told to be honest, for I can see all your fears. So be honest," "So what's this about?" Mars asked, fingers grasping his knee under the massive table. The general smirked.
"Fawkes seemed to be trying to hide your inactivity from me, but I found out-and I knew that you won't be able to last long as his second-in-hand. I was trained to suspect the best of all in the army, Mars. And you are holding that position among the newbies. And here, it adds up. Record time in running and strengths, successful training in record time, extensive knowledge and fast learning, and now, John Tim just said you just stare at books in the same position all day! I don't know if Fawkes that fucking bastard told you the same thing as we were trained some decades ago, but the army isn't a hotel!" Hale yelped, body already risen half out of his seat, eyes bulging. His hand was already at the pistol at his side.
Alex Mars just watched, uninterested. Yup, go on, the faster you get heated, the faster you'll explode and end my life. I obviously can't kill my self, so help me by doing your part...
Silence, pause.
But the general didn't shoot.
"Say that you're a Prod," The man breathed out.
Ah, the moment and highlight of my life! Every person inside Alex's head breathed back mentally. Alex felt as if he was going crazy or was fainting-but all the while, realized that he was content with how things had come up just now.
Hey, Andrew, watch, he thought, and all the voices in his head nodded, if you know it is possible, and hissed with 'yes'es.
He took in a deep breathe, and Hale watched, tensed.
"I am a Prodigy," Alex declared.
As the word "Prodigy" finally left his mouth in 'public', Alex Mars though that this was the coolest moment in his life yet.
Unfortunately for Alex Mars, who was confident that he deserved death right away and was out of his mind, he wasn't killed there and then.
He was instead thrown into the cell that Andrew had taken up only 2 weeks ago.
He started to realize new stuff-for instance, he realized what it was really to be literally thrown into a room.
Rubbing his aching back and limbs from the massive fall onto the cement ground, he scrambled up to the tiny barred window that Andrew had been peering out. He finally saw what Andrew had been staring at when he had come in, and, with little surprise-the main view of the window was the pole at the center of the field. It now seemed to have dried blood on it, Andrew's, a bit. Alex flinched and shuddered.
He also realized now that what the convicted had been saying while working hadn't been a prayer, but a plead for liberty and hope. But he didn't want liberty and hope. He wanted nothing but death, and that was all. But still, he started to also murmur a certain, specific phrase over and over in his mouth, and for him, he was whispering an apology for letting the boy who had spent time in the exact same cell 2 weeks ago get killed on the stick that was plainly in sight through the window.
Night came, the stars came. The same stars he had seen that had caused him not to die. Well, sorry, but looks as if I'm going to die anyway, he whispered to them, and soon clouds blew over the dark, veiling the stars. Mars let his own eyelids veil his eyes and went into a strange state between sleep and alertness.
As always, time flows relentlessly, and it did for him.
They gave him water and bread once a day, and he ate without passion. His hands didn't even try to shake the hinges off the cell though there were few guards there-he didn't want to escape.
Fawkes and Hale came a week later.
Alex Mars grunted at their sight, but sure, he was surprised at Fawkes.
He walked irregularly, and Alex analyzed his gait-the injury wasn't in his leg, though, but must be at his side. Sure it was. There was a thick band-aid on his side beneath his uniform, and his eyes had deep dark circles beneath them. His hands were scarred from a recent fight or something.
Their boots stopped at the same time in front of his jail.
"You have the glory to open the door, Fawkes," Hale said, raising his brows as if amused by Fawkes. Fawkes' lips set into a snarl when his eyes met Alex's. Alex managed not to shake in surprise when the man's hand shot out and grasped the bars like the hands of an angry beast in merely 1 and zero-point seconds. Hale almost laughed. "The keys I gave you," He reminded his upset friend, and Fawkes sighed. He dug his hands into his pockets and pulled out a bunch of keys, then thrust one into the lock. The door swung open in a creak, and Alex sighed-ah, the peace, my men, let me enjoy it for-
Fawkes reached out and grasped his arm. His scarred hand squeezed him unpleasantly, but Alex didn't resist as his general yanked him out of the cell. Alex staggered into a standing position after days of not standing. Fawkes glared at him as he regained his balance.
"Patience, Fawkes. Let's go," Hale said to his companion and Fawkes nodded-as if he had been adopted by Hale as a personal pup, Alex laughed. And he didn't do it merely inside his head.
Fawkes' hand on his arm tightened a great deal more and shooting him the look that he was a maniac, the general pushed him to the open air, out the door.
They walked him to a foreign Jeep that Alex assumed as Hale's-it was the same with Fawkes, but higher and bigger, more massive and well-polished. Hale opened the door politely and Fawkes literally stuffed Alex onto the back seat, then climbed onto the passenger's seat. Gee, Alex thought.
Hale got in and drove with unexpected haste and roughness out of the base. Alex didn't look out the window back home nor anywhere else since he knew that it would be a waste of energy-his fate was set against the option of returning back home already, and he knew it.
After about 46 miuntes(Alex hated being ambiguous, yes-but he was too disinterested in his life to exactly calculate), the Jeep parked into a parking lot of a sophisticated buildings with white walls. Hale turned off the engine, then hopped off. Fawkes got off as Alex did and right away, pulled out the white handcuffs that Alex used to put on the convicted. Finally, he was one of them, taking the cost of his dirty past. He smiled grimly as the machinery locked themselves tightly onto his wrists.
They dragged him into the building and Alex's eyes saw bright lights and guards looking at him as if he was junk from the deepest part of the sea. He didn't care to even stare back and let hismelf be juink, be trash, be anything to them.
He was dragged into a room with a doctor behind a chair and his memory of visiting Doctor Haver came right away. How ironic that both doc-visits had been casued by his Prodigal identity. Plus, the one with Haver had been to hide his abilities. And this time, the appointment was to reveal his abilities instead.
The man didn't introduce himself to the newcomers, but rather gave an awkward salute and nod to the generals, then right away dragged the boy into another room with a huge RMI in it. Alex knew that this proving session was going to be the most convinvcing of the fact that he was a true Prod.
They didn't need to wrestle him onto the panel, and he slid into the tube without any resistance and closed his eyes, wanting to just float to death during the test somehow.
But the test was over in minutes, and Alex watched as the doctor showed the generals the scan-he saw right away himself that a tiny black material was wedged into the back of his head, the Muter. What had been his greatest freneny for so many years, finally expelled out of 'justifiable' residence inside his own brain.
Now, the doctor turned to him with greedy and curious eyes-the exact same eyes that a few mad scientists get when they say 'I have to try this out' while rubbing hands together in some horror movie. The generals and the man prodded Alex to another room beside the MRI room which was partially-divided with a thich glass panel. The people strapped Mars onto a stray chair and pulled him into the center of the rooom, then sneaked away to stand beyond the panel, and Alex watched with indifferece and no fury nor curiousness as the doctor started to flip open swtciches and lights.
He still didn't care but simply wanted it alll to be over soon.
The room suddenly became very dark and Alex could only see the grinning figures of the 3 beyond the panel who each had an eerie glow from the dim light beyond the panel. He knew seconds before what they were going to do to him.
A panel in the ceiling opened with a small hiss and a projector slid down.
-obivously not to project a funny film for his entertainment but to project light directly into his eyes.
One, thin beam of light turned itself on and Alex squinted straight at it. The beam started to get more stronger, but Alex felt like he was getting used to the light, though it was sure to make him see dark spots all around when it was all over. So this was what Andrew had been subjected to.
Sorry, guys. Wrong methods to find out who I exactly am, Alex thought.
Just as the thought hit him, the projector slid away and from the panels above descended a single, small speaker.
He knew that he was completely doomed now. And sure to get deaf after this ordeal.
A tiny shrill like a siren croaked from the speaker. It would have been un-bearably too high for humans to hear. But Alex Mars was a Prodigy, not a normal human and he heard it from the begining.
The shrill started to get louder. His ears already twitched and he could hear his own faint heartbeat race, nervous and sweating.
He looked over at the panel and saw the doctor pulling something up and up, maybe some kind of lever.
Jesus on a pogo stick, so this is my end? He yelled mentally as the shrill grew to a howl and filled his ears and brain and body and the room completely, resonating off here and there, suffocating him. His fingers clenched and he choked, moaning for his life, moaning for his parents, moaning for the Martyr. He tugged at his binds and chair for support against the relentless sound waves, but it was impossibel to avoid. Maybe he shriekd, maybe he sobbed. But it was impossile to hear over the sound of the speakers.
He didn't know it was all over when it was over for real.
The doctor was suddenly at his side and pulled him up from his hunched-over posture, pulling his head by his hair(ouch) from between his tensed legs. He saw that the lights were back and with so much relief that the fatal speakers had retreated back into the ceiling.
He couldn't hear anything at all for the first time as he got up and staggered after the generals like a hell of a disabled penguin chick.
They put him under more tests that pushed him to his extremes, such as subjecting him to running on a treadmill, making him hold his breathe, ordering him to keep his head underwater for more than 4 minutes(what, did they expect him to breathe in water? That was one of the most illogical things that Mars had ever heard of in his life along with the ability to fly)for as long as possible. They gave him one minute to dry his body, since Hale complained that the leather seat of his Jeep would get wet.
They returned to the base and locked Alex back in his cell.
Now he couldn't hear well, even worse than after his mother had breaken the Portmeirion, and every part of him was stiff, which was quite unusual for the agile body.
He felt too tired and slept right away for the first time.
He woke up when his cell door jingled.
Ok, not jingled, but shook.
He opened his eyes and looked aorund-it was dark, but he could still see a figure holding the bars tightly in his hands, none too formally. Alex crawled on his knees to the bars.
It was Mark Higgins.
"Alex," He asked, not whispering at all. How had he gotten here past the guards? Alex wondered. Alex Mars didn't reply. Mark sniffed, then looked at him with greed and pity at the same time. "I... I overheard from the general that they are going to banish you," Mark said in a hoarse voice, and Alex looked into his eyes, wondering. They just stared at each other till Alex finally realized that it was his turn to speak.
"But I don't care," His voice cracked here and there. Mark bit his lip. He shook his head, looking into the cell. "Yeah," He murmurred. "Yeah," he added, then pushed his hands into his pockets as if determined. "Um, Alex, I came here to um-" "Just spit it out, Higgins," Alex said roughly, and Mark looked back up, nodding. He squared his shoulders and grabbed a bar for support.
"Can you lend your position to me when you leave for your banishment?" The boy asked, rubbing his left eyebrow.
Alex had been expecting that, in fact, and slowly staggered to his feet, making him a bit taller than Mark, who stared with relief and ill-willed patience.
He sighed.
"The rules say that the former guy who held the status has to assent, huh? Take it, Mark. Just do it," Alex turned back to the window in his cell and pushed himself into the furthest corner to regain more sleep.
Mark just stared. He had expected for his pleasure to bubble right away and if Alex wouldn't give his position up to him, he would have killed the other boy somehow just to get the position.
Now, Alex had assented-so then, why didn't any pleasure flood him?
He turned away, shaking his head. Alex watched out of the corner of his eye as Mark slowed down at the door to the outside night air and as his hands gripped the door knob.
Mark Higgins knew that using Alex's absnece was going to be against his morals a bit. But he also acknoweldged the world as materialistic, and had to survive. And Alex's banishment was going to be a chance in a lifetime for him, especially...
He sighed, angry at himself and Mars, before leaving back for his cursed dorm where half of the residents were now gone, knowing that he would just have to take Alex Mars' now-vacant position as the sergeant of General Fawkes.