Brett Bolton woke up with a jolt, only to be restrained back into place. He lurched forward again, wriggling to get free, but the strong polyester straps around both wrists and ankles made it hard to even do that. He stopped panicking for a second to observe his surroundings: he was tied down to a large bed in the middle of a dim, white, windowless room. There was a small sink and mirror at the other end of the room by the door, and adjacent to the bed was a large shelf with cabinets. Some medical supplies was sitting out on it, like it had been used recently.
A computer was on a desk next to the bed, along with a metal stool, not unlike the one he sat on every day in his chemistry class. In fact, the last thing Brett remembered was sitting in chemistry class. But he didn't dwell on that curiosity for too long, as the strong smell of disinfectant finally hit him, reaffirming his suspicion that he was in a hospital. He attempted to move his arms and legs again, tugging on the straps. Although weak and drowsy, he felt healthy, what could've happened? And even if he did hurt himself, why was he restrained and in the most dull and ominous room in the building? Something was up and it definitely wasn't good.
Brett started moving more again, trying to squeeze out of the belts on each limb. He tossed and turned, almost rhythmically. He shot his pelvis into the air and back down in defeat. He did it over and over as quietly as possible, as whoever restrained him and put him in that institution in the first place probably wouldn't appreciate him trying to break free or even question what's going on. Brett stopped his flailing for a couple seconds to build up his strength again. The floundering tired him out really quickly, what were they doing to him in this place? Brett took a deep breath, staring up at the off-white ceiling tiles, letting his head sink deeper into his pillow. He suddenly jerked up with all of his strength, ripping his left wrist restraint clean off.
He quickly undid the other harnesses holding him down and crawled towards the edge of the bed. Mid-crawl, he noticed he had a small plastic tube sticking out of his stomach, attached to a bag hanging from a stand next to the bed. He winced and pulled it out, noticing a greyish mush seeping out of it. It was a feeding tube, how long was he out for? The teenager then attempted to sneak down but instead flopped onto the floor with a sickening thump. He was feeling weaker by the second, and he didn't want to get caught like that.
Brett used the stool to help himself up. He could see his legs wobbling a tremendous amount under his hospital gown, like he hadn't walked in weeks. He attempted to stand on his own but fell over again, making more noise as he hit the floor. Not wanting to attract any attention, Brett crawled along the floor over to the sink, which he grabbed onto to regain his footing once again. Brett felt lightheaded from standing up too quickly, but he fought the urge to pass out. His vision became blurry, and he tilted his head down to regain his senses. When he looked up at the mirror and opened his eyes, Brett saw a face that wasn't his.
The creature in the mirror had a rounded, yet slender face with pale blue skin. Two small fins protruded from where it looked like its ears should be, and one slightly larger fin extended from the top of its forehead to the nape of its neck, looking like an amphibian mohawk with a widow's peak. The blue of its skin got darker around its facial features and on the lines of cartilage leading up to and on its fins, creating a basic design of lines across its face, like a kind of tribal face paint. The creature didn't have a nose, but just two slits where it would be, giving it a stereotypical alien-like appearance. Its lips were the same color as its skin and its teeth were small, sharp, and pointy, only apparent when it opened its mouth while breathing. The monster's eyes were its most apparent feature, as they were large, round, and neon green, almost appearing to glow in the poorly-lit room. The pupils filled up most of its eyes, and while they were a deep black, they still seemed to have a tint of green to them. It then blinked, revealing transparent eyelids that quickly moisturized its eyes.
Brett didn't want to believe that he was the horrible creature that he saw, but he couldn't think of any excuses. The only emotions he felt were confusion and curiosity, he felt like he was in a fever dream. However, the more he studied himself, the more that reality sank in, the more panicked he got. He slowly tilted his head from left to right, examining his features in depth. Brett tilted his head up, noticing four large gashes along each side of his neck, gills. He brushed his hand past them and then went to looking at his hand itself, twirling and moving his fingers around like he had never used them before. His hand was the same dull blue as the rest of him, with webbing between each finger. Each fingernail was also blue, as well as sharp, like claws. Brett followed the darker blue cartilage lines down from the back of his hand to his forearm, where a sail-shaped fin projected from it. Looking down, his toes were also webbed and he had similar fins on his calves, the dark blue lines still creating a road map across his body. He got close to hyperventilating at this point, but the door's clicking made his heart skip a beat.
A large man wearing scrubs swung the door open, holding a metal tray with a syringe on it in his other, gloved, hand. He snickered, "Hey fish food, time for your shots," saying his last word rather defeated upon noticing Brett standing right next to him at the sink. "How the hell did you wake up?"
Using the technician's confusion to his advantage, Brett let his fight or flight response kick in and immediately punched the man in the stomach as hard as he could. It was like he could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins. The technician fell to the floor and slid, which was rather impressive considering how weak Brett felt. The man screamed something into his earpiece and tried to get up as Brett scrambled across the floor to the fallen tray. He grabbed the syringe and plunged it into the man's hand. The man went limp and started to spasm, seemingly falling asleep in a matter of seconds. A drug-induced coma, Brett thought. Suddenly, sirens started to blare and the lights went out, only the red light from the alarms lighting up the room and hallway. Brett looked back over at the comatose technician before sprinting and down the winding hallway, hopefully towards his freedom and answers.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Hello! This is the first fanfic I've ever written, and I hope everyone reading this enjoys it! Feel free to write a review leaving criticism, advice, or even just a little message saying how much you've liked it.
I'm honestly not super familiar with the X-Men side of the Marvel universe, but I think I know enough to write a decent fanfic about them. I just love the whole concept of mutants, their persecution, and all of the other themes of the series. Expect to see a whole lot of Sentinels in the future of this series.
I'd also like to mention that this takes place in the Marvel universe featured in the Spectacular Spider-Man and Amazing Hunter fanfics by DiligentWriter and Bleedgreen99 respectively. However, this story will stay independent for the first couple chapters as Brett tries to put together his new life and figure out what the hell is going on. So don't expect him to fight alongside Spider-Man just yet, but it will happen. Eventually. At some point.