James Wolfe
"Nothing is ever really over until you stop trying."
James awoke to pain on a cold gymnasium floor. His left eye was swollen shut and his lip was split and caked with dried blood. With his vision blurred it was difficult to take in his surroundings, which set off a burning sense of hatred of the PSF's in his stomach.
I am not some sort of animal that they can just push around!His hands were in handcuffs behind his back, the cold metal biting into the soft skin of his wrists to the point that any friction caused bleeding. Looking around, he noticed a couple of other kids were handcuffed like himself. He figured they were the more "rebellious" kids, who gave the soldiers a hard time during their capture. James didn't know how long he had been unconscious, but the gnawing feeling of hunger in his stomach told him it must have been a while.
Although Wolfe would never admit it, a part of him was very afraid for his future. Was he going to die today? Was he going to be put in one of those "reform camps" for the rest of his life? His questions would he answered soon enough, the PSF's were here, and they started directing the children outside. James was hauled to his feet by a particularly aggressive soldier and James struggled against the much larger, stronger man, until a swift backhand to his injured face silenced him. Angry tears welled up from his swollen eye and he had to bite his tongue to keep from crying out. Jamie promised himself that he wouldn't show weakness, he wouldn't show how much he was hurting.
Biting back the tears now, James was ushered into a bus with the other kids. The ride was the worst part, the silence and overwhelming sense of fear had everyone on edge. At least they had removed his cuffs, he sat in his seat nursing his friction-burnt wrists. Part of him was tempted to boot to the back of the bus and kick out the back door. He probably would have, but the PSF with a gun in the back seat stopped him from doing something stupid. Part of him was frustrated by how helpless he was.
Arriving at Du Pont Camp put the reality of his situation square on James' shoulders. The magnitude of how
fucked he was finally set in. Looking around just freaked him out more. The large walls with the guard towers, the shear amount of soldiers with guns and weapons. The smells, the look of fear on the new kids and the look of numbness on the older kids that only came with seeing a lot of bad things happen. Wolfe also noted the colored X's on kids' backs. He didn't know what they meant but he soon would.
Inside the examination building, James waited impatiently towards the back of his line. He just wanted to get this over with, if he was going to die they should just kill him already! Jamie was an inch away from pushing his way through the line and getting it over with when a commotion broke out. There was yelling and a couple kids sprinted in random directions, while others dropped to the ground. James' knees bent in preparation to take off as well, not having a plan besides not wanting to be in that damn building.
One step into his sprint, James was brought down to his knees by a horrid sound that jarred every nerve and bone in his body. Every part of him screamed in agony, until the sound ebbed away. Once it felt like his brain wasn't being split in two. James sat up, cheeks wet with more tears. He had cried more in the span of a few days than he had in his whole life.
Being jerked to his feet brought him back to reality. Whatever plan the boys had to escape had failed miserably. Now they were on their knees in front of everyone. An intimidating man announced himself as the king of Du Pont Camp, and explained that if he was disobeyed then certain punishment would follow. The kids who had lead the small riot were then brutally beaten. James unconsciously took a step forward.
"let them g-" Wolfe had tried calling out but was cut off by a brutal hit to his ribs by a baton from one of the PSF's.
James sank to his knees for the second time and was once again yanked to his feet, this time by his hair. He was left there, and the only thing left to do was wait for his turn.
Inside the examination room, a young woman sat at a desk, typing furiously. She asked him for his name and ordered him to lay on the examination table.
"James Wolfe," he managed to croak out.
Some sort of machine scanned him and once it was finished the lady asked if he could show her his abilities. James' anger flared again and he flung out a hand toward the woman. She skid across the floor in her chair until her back touched the wall. The woman made a squeal but collected her self faster than he anticipated. The lady stormed over to him and whirled him around so she could make a giant blue letter X on his back. She then told him to leave before she called soldiers to come punish him. Wolfe grinned devilishly for the first time in a while, and stomped out.
Jamie was lead out of that building and was moved yet again to somewhere new. They were split up into two groups of ten and put into separate cabins. For the first time in 3 days, James wasn't being watched by soldiers. He looked around at the other boys with him, almost like he was sizing them up.
"Well... This sucks," he said, stating the obvious. James probably looked a mess. One eye was swollen shut, already turning black, his lip was busted, and if someone was to lift up his shirt, his ribs would be a vibrant red where the PSF had hit him with the nightstick.
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