Authors note: This is my first ever story. Criticism will be much appreciated. A short one shot, may evolve into more if people like it.
A Short Exchange.
Wearily, someone came to consciousness in a dimly lit alley. The bulbs had blown years ago, either due to gangs or illegal electricity tapping, and the local government didn't want to spend money in an area that would never improve. All the woman could remember was an immense pain ripping through her abdomen, then an explosion of agony to her head. After that, only the dark. She hurt all over her small, pathetic body. Her hair was as brown as the dirt she was laying on. Her eye was swollen shut, purple bruises were blossoming like sickly flowers, growing out of the malnutrition-ed soil of her skin. Gathering her senses she realizes something's missing, something tries to stand. Unlike her will, her knees fail her, she falls, but never gets back up again.
An ambulance arrived later that night, along with a police car. They had received an anonymous call, anonymous but well informed. Almost like it had been planned. The paramedics gravely announced the woman was dead, there was nothing more they could do, they did however, confirm the information the anonymous caller had given them. Surprisingly they couldn't trace the call. A participant, reluctant or no, with a guilty conscious? An escapee? Or perhaps kids playing at gangs and their game had gotten too serious?
A few blocks away, in a rundown building, a man sat. Opposite him was a woman sitting at a console. The inside did not match the buildings rugged exterior, it was all white washed walls, stainless steel equipment and bright lights that threatened to sear the eyes of anything that even glanced at them.
It was where they first brought the Brown haired, doe-eyed woman, she had escaped but couldn't get far enough.
'Poor bastard', Skeet thought to himself. 'Good thing she didn't have to see it. She won't remember it.' He looked down at the small bundle of soft sheets. Nestled inside was a tiny red face, sound asleep now, after screaming as much as her meager lungs would allow. "Don't get too attached, the boss wants it." Said Sheila, sucking hungrily on the end of a cigarette. "I know, why couldn't he got some one to knock you up though? Would've made more sense."
"infertile. Anyway it needed to be someone healthy and had been exposed to those freaky new elements they keep finding up there."
He'll be here in an hour." The burnt end of the cigarette was clinging on for it's life before she tipped it into an ashtray. "Go smoke that thing somewhere else." Skeet complained, wafting the smoke away with a free hand. Sheila just chuckled and put the cigarette out, scooped up the scattered flakes of ash from the desk, put them in the ashtray, then stashed it in the drawer.
"what's so funny?" Skeet asked, anger creeping into his words, "We had to knock out her mother and leave her for dead."
" 'knock out'? did you look away when I had the bat?" Sheilas face was sat in lines of disbelief, "You getting soft in your old age? Violence not your style anymore? Growing a conscience? Feeling guilty? Too late for any of that now." He voice held the slightest touch of regret in the last, but vanished she continued. "You weren't planning on screwing the boss over? No crosses him and lives."
The sound of braking glass in another room caught their attention.
"Ah shit. I told them we needed better containment cells." Sheila said exasperated. "I can't check it." Skeet grinned, "You'll have to deal with it, got my hands full." "Double shit. You're doing it next time, crazy assholes, how am I supposed to know what the little bastards do?"
Sheila left the room and cautiously ventured into the hallway. She so did not want to do this. Something about them just unnerved her. All the containment tanks that she could see from the doorway were intact. Deciding that nothing was wrong she ventured in. Another smash and two of the creatures leaped at her, one latching onto her lab coat the other her shoulder. It hissed and spat acid into her pretty cornflower blue eyes. Blinded and in agony she panicked and hit what she thought was the fail-safe button, but it was too late other creatures had gotten out and where roaming the building, however non escaped the total lock down. She screamed as the acid ate through her skull into her brain.
A muffled shriek. The alarms screamed into life. Heavy metal doors slid down from the ceiling, trapping everyone where they where like a fish in a bottle, condemned to swim in circles, to never see the sea again. A logo emblazoned on on both sides, in shiny black and orange. The alarms woke the baby, she began to wail like a banshee, a rich blue haze emanating from her pale skin. Skeet tried to calm her but it was no use. He set her down and went to the door. He tried to move it but it was futile. Nothing was getting in, or out. The room was sound proofed, like in all the facilities, the security cameras were down and the sprinkler system was shorting out.
He was blind to everything outside the room.
Resigned to his fate, Skeet scooped up the child and rocked her in his arms. He sat with her in the furthest corner of the room away from the door. Thick black smoke seeped in, its tendrils seeking a life to claim. With silent tears, Skeet began to sing softly to the infant;
"Hush little baby don't you cry, the Illusive Man's not gonna let you die..."