Eleven raised an eyebrow as the group left the room they currently occupied for the storage room as suggested by the young-looking girl, Seven. He wondered if she was the one in charge, covered in blood, as she was, made him wonder if she was potentially someone to be reckoned with. She stuck close to the military looking guy who did not appear to have a number and he wondered if the large man was her body guard. She had also mentioned there had already been some deaths.
“Damn, wake up a little late and I miss all the fun.” He muttered to himself as he followed the rest of the group to look for a storage room, shrugging off the challenge he had hoped to start with Ten, apparently they had bigger problems right now and he’d have to wait for some action.
As they walked Eleven reviewed the what he had heard from the others as he tried to make sense of the situation he found himself in. They were lab experiments, an attempt to recreate mutants apparently, and he wondered if he had mutant abilities or just some kind of horrible radiation poising that would slowly kill him. He didn’t feel different but after thinking on that for a second more, it seemed like a dumb thing to think, after all without his personal memories how would he know what normal felt like. The more pressing issue seemed to be Nine’s mention of people trying to kill them. Something about the thought of a constant struggle for survival felt right to him, not comforting exactly, but familiar. At least it meant a chance to blow off steam, he was more than ready for anyone who wanted to come after him.
The door to the storage room was closed, the other non-numbered men struggled to open it without success until Seven messed with some wires, Eleven didn’t really get how tech worked and he didn’t feel like that was a knowledge erased from him either, and she managed to open the door. Inside the most notable thing in the room were thirteen chests, all numbered and he was guessing that meant there were thirteen lab rats. Currently there were seven lab rats in the group, only about half, and he wondered if the others were the deaths Seven had mentioned. Some of the group immediately approached the chest that correlated to their number and Eleven scanned the room for something to pry the lock open with. His quick glace around the room he didn’t show anything immediately useful so he moved on to plan b. Eleven approached the chest with his number on it and swiftly brought the heel of his foot down on the lock a few times before it broke off.
Inside the chest was what looked to be mostly junk, a handful of things that would easily fit inside a person’s pockets. Eleven figured the chests must contain their possessions and he riffled through the objects hoping something would jog his memory. A pack of cigarettes and an old zippo lighter, he grabbed that first, the pack was full but old and probably purchased just before he was put in stasis. He placed a cigarette between his lips and with a smooth single motion flipped open and lit the zippo, instantly feeling satisfaction at the metallic noise it made, and lit the stale cigarette. He grabbed an old wallet that contained only a handful of change, he’d apparently be useful if they needed to use a parking meter, and put that in the pocket of his jeans along with the simple black pocket knife. He took another drag on the stale cigarette before grabbing the metal flask. He opened the top of the flask and sniffed the familiar smell of cheap bourbon. He’d heard Nine mention that she was a mechanic.
“Hey, apparently I’m a bit of a drunk.” He half joked screwing the top back on the flask and giving it a shake, it was mostly full, before putting it into his back pocket.
Most of the others seemed to have found weapons significantly more dangerous than his pocket knife which made him wonder what sort of people he was grouped with. Being around so many guns made him feel uncomfortable, he instantly knew fists were more his weapon of choice. He flicked ashes from his cigarette onto the ground and looked at the several undisturbed chests.
“What should we do the rest of them? Could be something useful in the other chests.” He suggested, although something about going through the others, the ones that were possibly dead, felt a little wrong.
