1. Lab RatA Chapter by LelReaper“Wake up… Your story is
just beginning.” His bloodshot eyes shot open in a frenzy looking for a face to
latch onto. Bleak memories shot in and out of his head, obscured and
manipulating his thoughts like phantoms from the past. His vision was blurred
and kept him from detecting detail and patterns. The walls seemed to be stained with blank faces, faded and beyond
recognition. All around him was a dense substance, engulfing his body in a foul
slime. His mind remained blank, and his face expressionless, evading all
memories of past events. The intensity of the headache made him delusional,
forcing him to endure a hypnotic pressure straining his thoughts. It was too
difficult to think, too difficult to breathe. The pain slowly subsided but the
uneasiness continued. His breathing was erratic and every breath he took hurt
his throat. The air he breathed in was stale and artificial. Perhaps it was
this that was keeping him in a sleep-like state. He looked around for anything
of use to him. Metal constraints suppressed his movements, keeping him in place
while sending waves of pain into his spinal cord with every futile movement.
The shockwave rippled throughout his body, spreading into his arms and legs
before dispersing. Conceding, he remained still momentarily, floating in an
unknown sea with his senses immobilized. The perpetual strain
that had been suppressing his movements was almost gone, returning his vision
as well as his hearing. His eyesight was still affected by the murky liquid
surrounding him, but he could make out a circular bottom of what appeared to be
a tank. The liquid’s refraction allowed him to deduce two feet of glass
separating him from the blurs, something that, he assumed, would be considered
impossible to deduce even without having his senses impaired. It was worrying.
The glass in front of him was far too thick for for simply containing the
weight of the water around him. Was it to contain him? This begs the question,
why so cautious? Rejuvenated, he observed
movement on the other side of the tank that held him prisoner. The fluid’s
distortion kept him from reading the scene so he focused on colors instead of
detail. He could depict flashes of movement that vanished as quickly as they
had appeared. “White blurs. Lab coats?” It seemed unlikely, but it was still a
lead. Muffled voices bounced around, creating vibrations in the tank. Pause. He
concentrated on the voices and strangely enough, he understood certain words.
“Phase… Complete… Subject... Awake… Identity…" No, that was wrong. He
didn’t hear any words. He glanced up towards the top of the tube to see
movement in the liquid. It was almost unnoticeable, but he was sensing speech.
His focus was broken and the patterns reverted unreadable. He noticed rubber tubes
connected to his arms, legs, and back. The tubes snaked behind and attached to
a flat surface, which seemed to be where they interlocked with the wall. He
aimed for the tube installed into his back, but the metal constraints sent
electricity throughout the tank. Odd. He had been shocked twice already but
this seemed to be the first time the fluid had started to heat. His body burned
and a current began to form around him with increasing velocity. It began to
gain speed, embedding bruises into his arms. He pulled himself up frenetically
trying to wiggle his wrists free, causing another shockwave to hit him. He sank
back down in the tube, the current continuing to pick up speed. A bolt keeping his
constraint latched to the ceiling gave way, allowing a chunk of metal to enter
the stream and slash into his forehead. A look of anger crossed his face as the
metal created a gash centimeters away from his eye. He glared up at the base
the bolt had been attached to. One down, one to go. “If I could just…” He stretched
his arm into the current, creating tension to unhook the damper in the ceiling.
The blood from the gash in his head diffused throughout the tank, veiling him
in a red curtain. The intense current began to slow until it came to a halt. It
was dark. A shrill sound echoed
around him, materializing as an alarm in his mind. Confusion swept over his
face as he examined the reinforced glass. There was something wrong. Shouts
could be heard in the distance. He pressed his hand firmly against the glass
and a crack moved outwards toward his fingertips. His face lit up. He then
tried pulling his left hand loose and the bolts sank down to the grate at the
bottom of the tank. The shouting of scientists became more apparent, but it
wasn’t out of concern as much as it was fear. He grinned widely, without
realizing it. The murky yellow slime was now light red, concealing his view as
well as his captors. He tore the shackles off
his feet and braced his back against the wall of the tank. He wasn’t a fan of
paper cuts, so he knew it would hurt like hell. He kicked the front of the
glass, deepening the origin of the crack and creating crystalline webbing that
wrapped around the tank. Once more he brought his legs in, ready to thrust when
the glass shattered into snow cutting his arms and torso. “What a day.” His eyes sharpened to
see frantic scientists lunging for the door. The few who remained burst into
panic except for one professor who was typing rapidly, hurrying to complete a
diagram that looked like an analysis of a... person. Above the diagram in bold
letters read F4Z3 and a version number. He remained expressionless, then
grinned. The scientists were grabbing handfuls of data before sprinting down
the hallway, petrified. However, his concentration remained set towards what he
thought was the head scientist, who was intensely jotting down information into
a thick brown journal, his focus dominant over the wail of the siren. He mockingly picked up a
spear of glass and hurled it at the siren, stapling it to the corner wall. He
glowed warmly. “That’s useful.” Maybe the scientist had information on his
identity. He grabbed another shard of glass, intending to pick his brain for
answers. Slowly, he moved towards the scientist who remained absorbed in his
work. This was the man behind everything. If anyone didn't deserve mercy, it
was him. There was no indication of resistance. That would make it easier for
him. The scientist stopped typing, uploaded the file he was working on, put his
notebook into a nearby drawer, and pulled out a large case which he began to
unlatch. He then locked the drawer. Contrary to his
reaction, he remained emotionless. He didn't care about the scientist, so why
would his death elicit such a response? Why had he vomited?
That’s exactly what a normal human would do, but was it out of instinct? He
knew it was a grotesque sight, but his heart hadn’t skipped a beat. The scene
seemed not only natural, but oddly familiar. He clenched his fists, mixing his
mind with thoughts of anger and determination. Unfortunately for him, that gun
could be the difference between life and death. He warily trotted over and
picked the stained gun off the cold stone floor. He glanced around the
room, looking for some information he could use to his advantage. He noticed
the computer used by the scientist with the body analysis still onscreen. The
display flickered and distorted, and sparks shot up from the computer’s hard
drive. He would need to be fast. Blood began to seep into the front of the
computer and the wiring was verges away from short circuiting. Swiftly, he ran
up to the computer screen, searching for the keyboard. He pulled up the
document the scientist had been logging information into:
Project F4Z3 Codename [FAZE] Subject: Offline Status: Failed Continguencies: Death
The computer screen
scrambled as it flashed images rapidly. He stepped back in agony, reaching for
his head. Images shot in and out, and disarray plagued his mind. System plans,
blueprints, and director logs overwhelmed him. It continued for seconds
and then it was gone. The computer had fried. His thoughts came to a
standstill, and all that remained was the clear image of a countdown that he
had noticed when cycling through the data. A countdown for what? He looked back
over to see a logbook lying on the table. His eyes grew wide as he took off
down the long, barren hallway. The schematics for the facility appeared in again, giving him a mental compass of his escape route. That damn logbook. What
luck... He continued sprinting, following the ceaseless pathway that would
hopefully lead him to light. The facility grew cold the farther he went into
it. If his calculations were right he had to go down to come back up. He needed
to hurry. There wasn't much time. The deeper he went the colder and darker it
got. He ran through the confines, the walls slowly shifting from metal to rock
the further he went. On and on they went. He was reaching and uncharted area
that was far below the architectural prints he had seen. He would have to
navigate based on intuition from this point on if he were to make it back to
the surface.
He remembered what the
logbook said. Inside laid a recently dated request for a system-wide lockdown.
He remembered the scientist rapidly scribbling notes before locking away a
leather notebook into the steel drawer beside him. What was in that notebook?
He knew it was important but he didn't have time to go back for it right now.
The clock was ticking. The request for a system-wide lockdown would take
time to be approved but if this “timer” was correct, then he had 10 minutes to
escape the research facility before all exits were sealed, separating him from
the outside with 10 inches of titanium alloy in between. He had
long realized they were experimenting on him, but the question of where he
came from still bounced in his head.
To be continued...
© 2017 LelReaperAuthor's Note
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