It was never this bad. He was never hurt this bad. He could always stop it. Was he off his game today?
Seven ducked the sword that would have taken his head off, countered with a staff strike of his own. His bald headed opponent snarled loudly and deflected the wooden staff off to the side, throwing Seven off balance. He rolled to avoid what came next but wasn’t fast enough. The cold metal of the sword cut deep into his back, severing muscle; he felt it hit his spine. Dark red blood stained the floor of the pure white room. Seven collapsed, gasping in pain. He rolled onto his back, staring up at his attacker.
The bald man, not much older than he was, cleaned the sword on his sleeve, staining the white fabric red. He grinned as he raised the sword above his head, about to bury it in Seven’s chest.
Seven’s eyes flashed white, sending the man flying backwards into the wall. His body lifted off the ground and hovered several feet in the air. Blood trickled off his toes and began to pool beneath him. He raised his hand, almost as if he was letting a small person stand in his hands. The body of the bald man raised off the ground, his arms stretched out at his sides. His body began floating closer.
The bald man grimaced, his arms and legs stretched further. He cried out in pain, a loud popping noise; his shoulder separating.
“Seven.” A voice said, seemingly out of nowhere. “That’s enough, let him go.”
Seven dropped the man to the floor. His body crumpled as he whimpered in pain, clutching his shoulder.
“Fifteen,” the voice addressed the bald man, “can you stand?”
The bald man nodded his head silently as he stood. He stared up at Seven still floating. Seven did not return the look.
“Fifteen, exit the room and allow the guards to escort you to the infirmary.” The voice said.
Fifteen limped to the door and it ‘whooshed’ open, revealing a well-lit, grey, metal hallway. The door closed behind him.
Seven watched him leave, slowly touching down on the ground. His feet landed in the pool of blood that still cascaded from the wound in his back and down his leg; it was still warm. He looked up at one of the walls, almost as if he was looking through it.
The white wash of the wall shimmered away, revealing a thick glass window; two figures stood behind it. One was a man, early thirties, muscular build, his black hair parted down the middle and rested just below his ears. The other figure was a woman, appeared to be early twenties, thin build and long blonde hair. The woman leaned forward and pressed a button.
“Seven, exit the room and let the guards escort you to the infirmary. You need to get that gash on your back treated.” She had an accent, but he couldn’t place where it was from.
Seven spoke. “It’s superficial. I’m fine.” He said monotonously. He watched as the woman’s mouth dropped open. He caught a brief grin on the man’s face.
“Do NOT question me!” She ordered. “You WILL go to the infirmary and you WILL get your wound treated. Am I clear!?” She snapped.
Seven flinched at her response, but not enough so it was noticeable. He was like an animal being scolded. It was true though, that’s what he was: just an animal.
“I understand.” Seven stated, turning on his heel and walking towards the exit, the door making the same ‘whoosh’ noise it did before. Out in the hallway, two guards approached him. One of them held in his hand what looked like a metal dog collar. Seven leaned his head forward, opening his neck for the guard.
The guard slapped the collar roughly on Seven’s neck; it closed with a loud clicking noise. Dozens of little needles stabbed him in a circle around his neck, injecting him with all kinds of chemicals. Seven winced at the feeling of muscle relaxants and blood clotting agents flooded his system. He felt his legs grown weak and his eyes rolled in the back of his head.
The last thing he remembered was losing his footing and falling forward towards the cold, hard, ground.
--
Seven’s eyes shot open, instinctively he reached for the dagger he always kept by his ankle. It wasn’t there. He realized he was on a bed and he rolled off and onto the floor, dropping into a defensive stance.
“Seven, relax.” A female voice said. He recognized it quickly.
“Nineteen, why am I back in our room?” Seven said, relaxing slightly.
Nineteen was slightly older than he was, around 20 years old. She had long blonde hair and blue eyes and, like everyone on the Shinryu, was incredibly fit. She lay on the top bunk of their bed reading a book; from what Seven could tell, it was a textbook. She was very intelligent, too.
She glanced up from her book and smiled. “They fixed you up, I’m impressed.” She said. “Fixed you up in under an hour. They drug you?”
Seven nodded, feeling his back. He felt stiches and staples, a lot of both. “I won, though.” He said with a smile.
Nineteen rolled over onto her side and propped her head up with her hand. “How’d you do it?” She asked him.
Seven walked to the ladder that led up to the second bunk and climbed up, motioning for Nineteen to move over. She did. He slipped in beside her. “Baited him into believing I was beaten. Even let him really injure me.” He said.
“Let me see.” Nineteen said softly.
Seven’s breath hitched in his throat. He rolled over onto his side, he felt Nineteen lift up his shirt, felt her fingers on his back, he flinched. It felt…good.
“Does it hurt?” She asked him, tracing a line down the stitching on his back.
“No.” He said. “It feels strange when you touch it.”
Nineteen trailed her fingers up his spine and to his neck, felt goosebumps poke up on his flesh. “Does that feel strange?” She asked softly, her mouth at his ear.
“No. It feels good.” He breathed. “We shouldn’t be doing this.” He was right. They shouldn’t be this close to each other, somebody would say something.
Nineteen walked her fingers down to his lower back. “We’ll be okay. We’ve won 90 percent of our sparring matches and I’m top score in strategic exams; it gives us a small amount of freedom.” She explained.
Seven pulled his shirt down. “Nineteen. Stop it.” He stated firmly. He sat up and climbed off her bunk and down onto his. “We shouldn’t be that close to each other. Once we reach RAT then maybe we can be close. But until then, don’t blow our chances.”
He heard Nineteen sniff. Was she crying? No. They weren’t allowed to cry, she knew better.
“Okay. I’m sorry, Seven.” She said, sniffing again. “It was just an urge. I knew I shouldn’t have acknowledged it.”
She was crying.
“Nineteen…” Seven said quietly. “Try and get some rest. Can you tutor me on tactics tomorrow? I have an exam in a few days and I need the help.” He heard Nineteen sigh; it was painful.
“Yes. Meet me after breakfast and we’ll work on it.” She said. “I’m going to shower, go to sleep and I’ll see you in the morning.”
Nineteen leaped off her bunk, throwing off her top as she landed. She walked quickly into the shared bathroom and shut the door behind her; Seven heard the water turn on.
He sighed and stood up, undressing himself and changing into his sleeping wear; basically a white onesie. He felt something crawl into his head when Nineteen was touching him, but he didn’t want to give into it. He didn’t deny whatever it was, but to give in was weakness on his part. What he wanted and what she wanted were two different things. He rolled over and closed his eyes.
‘CLICK’
Seven looked in the direction of the sound; it was the door. And it was unlocked.
“Seven. Go. Run.” A voice said over the comm system in their room. “Go. Now!” It was garbled, no idea if it was male or female.
Was this a test?
He sprang out of bed, dashing towards the door. He slinked his fingers through the crack and slowly pried it open. He glanced outside; nobody in sight. He took one last look towards the bathroom, still hearing the water running. She wouldn’t even know he was gone. He sprinted out the door, running down the white hallway even though he had no idea where he was headed.
He swung left, and then right, then left again, hoping he’d get somewhere.
It took several seconds before he realized that alarms had been blaring.
“This is an impressive test.” He said aloud.
What was his objective? Where was he supposed to go?
Reading the signs that dotted the halls, Seven ran towards the hanger bay. Best objective he could think of. If they wanted him to escape, then that was the place to do it. Wide open space, small airships to steal, a lot of hiding places; it was perfect.
He rounded the final corner, his heart pounding in his chest. The gigantic hanger space greeted him.
“Stop!” A voice said behind him.
Seven whirled around, a smile on his face. “I win?” He asked.
A group of guards stood in a line, guns at the ready. One of them smirked. “Yeah, you won alright.” He said with a chuckle.
Seven’s smile faded. It took him until now to realize that this wasn’t a test.
“Open fire!” One of the guards yelled. Simultaneously they pulled their triggers.
The air was ripped apart by machine gun fire. Seven threw his arms forward, sending a maelstrom of telekinetic energy towards his attackers. Bullets flew in all directions. Some embedding themselves in the floor, others finding their way back towards the guards.
Seven’s instinct kicked in; he had to run. Only two of the guards were left standing and they couldn’t take him. Seven spun on his heels and sprinted towards one of the airships, bullets screamed past his ears. He slammed his eyes shut and kept running. All he had to do was get to one of the ships and he was home free.
Why did he want to leave? He had grown up here. He had friends here. Were they his friends? Or were they enemies?
‘WHAM, WHAM, WHAM’
He felt three bullets bury themselves in his back; his stitching came loose. He collapsed to the ground. Was he paralyzed? No, he could feel his toes. He could still stand, but he would wait. He heard footsteps coming closer, coming to finish him off.
“Is he dead?” One of the guards said.
“No. He’s still breathing.” The other said. “This should finish him.”
WHAM.
He felt a tremendous amount of pressure behind his eyes. The pain was excruciating. They’d shot him in the head. Why was he still alive?
“Is he dead now?”
“Yes. He isn’t breathing. Get him out of here.”
Seven felt them lift him off the ground; they were dragging him. He rolled his head. Where was the exit?
The big hanger doors were open. That was his way out. It was either he died on the ship or he died in freefall. He would take his chances in freefall. With what strength he had left Seven threw his energy out at his sides, throwing the guards across the hanger. He screamed in pain as the pressure in his head built up even more. It was only a couple hundred feet towards the exit. Forcing everything he had left at his feet, he propelled himself upwards and forward, flying through the air and towards his exit.
The cold night air felt good on his skin. It was raining too. It was the freshest air he had ever smelt; they didn’t let them outside on the Shinryu, ever. He stretched his arms out to his sides, feeling the wind rush past his body. It took him a few minutes to realize that he was falling. He was going to die.
Unless…
Seven built up all his energy around him, building it up until he couldn’t take it anymore, until the pain go so much he felt like he was going to pass out. This was it. This was the moment of truth. The moment where whatever being was watching over him decided if he lived or died. This-
SMASH!
Seven slammed down, hard, onto something incredibly solid. It wasn’t ground, it was…metal? Was he moving? All these questions ran through his pounding head. His body ached, he reached up to rub his head and his hand came away covered in blood; it was bad. He felt his eyes roll into the back of his head before passing out.
Seven ducked the sword that would have taken his head off, countered with a staff strike of his own. His bald headed opponent snarled loudly and deflected the wooden staff off to the side, throwing Seven off balance. He rolled to avoid what came next but wasn’t fast enough. The cold metal of the sword cut deep into his back, severing muscle; he felt it hit his spine. Dark red blood stained the floor of the pure white room. Seven collapsed, gasping in pain. He rolled onto his back, staring up at his attacker.
The bald man, not much older than he was, cleaned the sword on his sleeve, staining the white fabric red. He grinned as he raised the sword above his head, about to bury it in Seven’s chest.
Seven’s eyes flashed white, sending the man flying backwards into the wall. His body lifted off the ground and hovered several feet in the air. Blood trickled off his toes and began to pool beneath him. He raised his hand, almost as if he was letting a small person stand in his hands. The body of the bald man raised off the ground, his arms stretched out at his sides. His body began floating closer.
The bald man grimaced, his arms and legs stretched further. He cried out in pain, a loud popping noise; his shoulder separating.
“Seven.” A voice said, seemingly out of nowhere. “That’s enough, let him go.”
Seven dropped the man to the floor. His body crumpled as he whimpered in pain, clutching his shoulder.
“Fifteen,” the voice addressed the bald man, “can you stand?”
The bald man nodded his head silently as he stood. He stared up at Seven still floating. Seven did not return the look.
“Fifteen, exit the room and allow the guards to escort you to the infirmary.” The voice said.
Fifteen limped to the door and it ‘whooshed’ open, revealing a well-lit, grey, metal hallway. The door closed behind him.
Seven watched him leave, slowly touching down on the ground. His feet landed in the pool of blood that still cascaded from the wound in his back and down his leg; it was still warm. He looked up at one of the walls, almost as if he was looking through it.
The white wash of the wall shimmered away, revealing a thick glass window; two figures stood behind it. One was a man, early thirties, muscular build, his black hair parted down the middle and rested just below his ears. The other figure was a woman, appeared to be early twenties, thin build and long blonde hair. The woman leaned forward and pressed a button.
“Seven, exit the room and let the guards escort you to the infirmary. You need to get that gash on your back treated.” She had an accent, but he couldn’t place where it was from.
Seven spoke. “It’s superficial. I’m fine.” He said monotonously. He watched as the woman’s mouth dropped open. He caught a brief grin on the man’s face.
“Do NOT question me!” She ordered. “You WILL go to the infirmary and you WILL get your wound treated. Am I clear!?” She snapped.
Seven flinched at her response, but not enough so it was noticeable. He was like an animal being scolded. It was true though, that’s what he was: just an animal.
“I understand.” Seven stated, turning on his heel and walking towards the exit, the door making the same ‘whoosh’ noise it did before. Out in the hallway, two guards approached him. One of them held in his hand what looked like a metal dog collar. Seven leaned his head forward, opening his neck for the guard.
The guard slapped the collar roughly on Seven’s neck; it closed with a loud clicking noise. Dozens of little needles stabbed him in a circle around his neck, injecting him with all kinds of chemicals. Seven winced at the feeling of muscle relaxants and blood clotting agents flooded his system. He felt his legs grown weak and his eyes rolled in the back of his head.
The last thing he remembered was losing his footing and falling forward towards the cold, hard, ground.
--
Seven’s eyes shot open, instinctively he reached for the dagger he always kept by his ankle. It wasn’t there. He realized he was on a bed and he rolled off and onto the floor, dropping into a defensive stance.
“Seven, relax.” A female voice said. He recognized it quickly.
“Nineteen, why am I back in our room?” Seven said, relaxing slightly.
Nineteen was slightly older than he was, around 20 years old. She had long blonde hair and blue eyes and, like everyone on the Shinryu, was incredibly fit. She lay on the top bunk of their bed reading a book; from what Seven could tell, it was a textbook. She was very intelligent, too.
She glanced up from her book and smiled. “They fixed you up, I’m impressed.” She said. “Fixed you up in under an hour. They drug you?”
Seven nodded, feeling his back. He felt stiches and staples, a lot of both. “I won, though.” He said with a smile.
Nineteen rolled over onto her side and propped her head up with her hand. “How’d you do it?” She asked him.
Seven walked to the ladder that led up to the second bunk and climbed up, motioning for Nineteen to move over. She did. He slipped in beside her. “Baited him into believing I was beaten. Even let him really injure me.” He said.
“Let me see.” Nineteen said softly.
Seven’s breath hitched in his throat. He rolled over onto his side, he felt Nineteen lift up his shirt, felt her fingers on his back, he flinched. It felt…good.
“Does it hurt?” She asked him, tracing a line down the stitching on his back.
“No.” He said. “It feels strange when you touch it.”
Nineteen trailed her fingers up his spine and to his neck, felt goosebumps poke up on his flesh. “Does that feel strange?” She asked softly, her mouth at his ear.
“No. It feels good.” He breathed. “We shouldn’t be doing this.” He was right. They shouldn’t be this close to each other, somebody would say something.
Nineteen walked her fingers down to his lower back. “We’ll be okay. We’ve won 90 percent of our sparring matches and I’m top score in strategic exams; it gives us a small amount of freedom.” She explained.
Seven pulled his shirt down. “Nineteen. Stop it.” He stated firmly. He sat up and climbed off her bunk and down onto his. “We shouldn’t be that close to each other. Once we reach RAT then maybe we can be close. But until then, don’t blow our chances.”
He heard Nineteen sniff. Was she crying? No. They weren’t allowed to cry, she knew better.
“Okay. I’m sorry, Seven.” She said, sniffing again. “It was just an urge. I knew I shouldn’t have acknowledged it.”
She was crying.
“Nineteen…” Seven said quietly. “Try and get some rest. Can you tutor me on tactics tomorrow? I have an exam in a few days and I need the help.” He heard Nineteen sigh; it was painful.
“Yes. Meet me after breakfast and we’ll work on it.” She said. “I’m going to shower, go to sleep and I’ll see you in the morning.”
Nineteen leaped off her bunk, throwing off her top as she landed. She walked quickly into the shared bathroom and shut the door behind her; Seven heard the water turn on.
He sighed and stood up, undressing himself and changing into his sleeping wear; basically a white onesie. He felt something crawl into his head when Nineteen was touching him, but he didn’t want to give into it. He didn’t deny whatever it was, but to give in was weakness on his part. What he wanted and what she wanted were two different things. He rolled over and closed his eyes.
‘CLICK’
Seven looked in the direction of the sound; it was the door. And it was unlocked.
“Seven. Go. Run.” A voice said over the comm system in their room. “Go. Now!” It was garbled, no idea if it was male or female.
Was this a test?
He sprang out of bed, dashing towards the door. He slinked his fingers through the crack and slowly pried it open. He glanced outside; nobody in sight. He took one last look towards the bathroom, still hearing the water running. She wouldn’t even know he was gone. He sprinted out the door, running down the white hallway even though he had no idea where he was headed.
He swung left, and then right, then left again, hoping he’d get somewhere.
It took several seconds before he realized that alarms had been blaring.
“This is an impressive test.” He said aloud.
What was his objective? Where was he supposed to go?
Reading the signs that dotted the halls, Seven ran towards the hanger bay. Best objective he could think of. If they wanted him to escape, then that was the place to do it. Wide open space, small airships to steal, a lot of hiding places; it was perfect.
He rounded the final corner, his heart pounding in his chest. The gigantic hanger space greeted him.
“Stop!” A voice said behind him.
Seven whirled around, a smile on his face. “I win?” He asked.
A group of guards stood in a line, guns at the ready. One of them smirked. “Yeah, you won alright.” He said with a chuckle.
Seven’s smile faded. It took him until now to realize that this wasn’t a test.
“Open fire!” One of the guards yelled. Simultaneously they pulled their triggers.
The air was ripped apart by machine gun fire. Seven threw his arms forward, sending a maelstrom of telekinetic energy towards his attackers. Bullets flew in all directions. Some embedding themselves in the floor, others finding their way back towards the guards.
Seven’s instinct kicked in; he had to run. Only two of the guards were left standing and they couldn’t take him. Seven spun on his heels and sprinted towards one of the airships, bullets screamed past his ears. He slammed his eyes shut and kept running. All he had to do was get to one of the ships and he was home free.
Why did he want to leave? He had grown up here. He had friends here. Were they his friends? Or were they enemies?
‘WHAM, WHAM, WHAM’
He felt three bullets bury themselves in his back; his stitching came loose. He collapsed to the ground. Was he paralyzed? No, he could feel his toes. He could still stand, but he would wait. He heard footsteps coming closer, coming to finish him off.
“Is he dead?” One of the guards said.
“No. He’s still breathing.” The other said. “This should finish him.”
WHAM.
He felt a tremendous amount of pressure behind his eyes. The pain was excruciating. They’d shot him in the head. Why was he still alive?
“Is he dead now?”
“Yes. He isn’t breathing. Get him out of here.”
Seven felt them lift him off the ground; they were dragging him. He rolled his head. Where was the exit?
The big hanger doors were open. That was his way out. It was either he died on the ship or he died in freefall. He would take his chances in freefall. With what strength he had left Seven threw his energy out at his sides, throwing the guards across the hanger. He screamed in pain as the pressure in his head built up even more. It was only a couple hundred feet towards the exit. Forcing everything he had left at his feet, he propelled himself upwards and forward, flying through the air and towards his exit.
The cold night air felt good on his skin. It was raining too. It was the freshest air he had ever smelt; they didn’t let them outside on the Shinryu, ever. He stretched his arms out to his sides, feeling the wind rush past his body. It took him a few minutes to realize that he was falling. He was going to die.
Unless…
Seven built up all his energy around him, building it up until he couldn’t take it anymore, until the pain go so much he felt like he was going to pass out. This was it. This was the moment of truth. The moment where whatever being was watching over him decided if he lived or died. This-
SMASH!
Seven slammed down, hard, onto something incredibly solid. It wasn’t ground, it was…metal? Was he moving? All these questions ran through his pounding head. His body ached, he reached up to rub his head and his hand came away covered in blood; it was bad. He felt his eyes roll into the back of his head before passing out.