Breezepelt's hand pushed his hair back, every single move documented, exactly as he knew. His amber eyes shifted to look up at the black camera, hidden in the darkest corner. There was a single white light shining on him from another corner, as he sat in his plain, white chair at his plain, white desk in his plain, gray room, only consisting of the desk, the chair (of course), and a uncomfortable mattress with a tattered brownish-blue (who knows what color it was) blanket resting on it, only big enough to cover his torso, giving him no comfort in the un-air-conditioned room. It was really nothing to look at; same old, same old, 2 meals a day shit.
And that's how it's always been.
And his clothes; oh, no. A simple black t-shirt with some shorts. No changes of clothes. So, I guess you could say life was pretty damn miserable for Breezepelt. Well, woohoo, you're psychic, if psychic means something everyone can see. Breezepelt thought all this, preparing his speech for when he got out of this stinking place. Not that he thought he ever would, of course. Just something to do, because there was nothing to do. Perfecting his speech for when the good of the world came, and got him out of his cell.
Not that there was good in the world, of course.
It was just a fantasy. Again, the only thing to do when there was nothing to do. But Breezepelt decided to not keep on repeating his thoughts. He decided to break something, just in case it made people actually come in his room. Human contact was the thing Breezepelt desired the most; someone to talk to. Even for just a moment. So, with his thoughts set, Breezepelt stood up from his plain white chair. Already having all his anger; rage; built up at whoever put him here, Breezepelt grabbed the chair and smashed it to the ground. Now, since this was, of course, a cheap chair, it easily shattered, wood pieces flying all over, causing the black, hidden camera to move. He savored the sound of the chair snapping, pieces shattering, and falling. Anything to do, of course.
Breezepelt stepped back with a sadistic smile as people who practically had astronaut suits on ran into the room, grabbing at the pieces. Than again, who wouldn't be crazy after all of the captivity that he had gone through. For 17 straight years.
A red-headed girl (who looked like a scientist) stormed into the room, her brown eyes fiery and angry. She grabbed his shirt collar (from a considerable way down) and tugged it. "Why the hell did you do that?!" She yelled, kicking his shin.
Without even a wince, Breezepelt chuckled and said, "Why hello, Dr... whatever." Indeed, this confined boy was taught some things; he was 19 years old, and had his first 2 years with his mother. Plenty of time to be taught, though he definitely had a horrible vocabulary. He only knew curse words because her mother would shout them at the occasional visitor, that came to check that Breezepelt was not dead, or injured.
Dr. 'Whatever' kicked him in the shin again, harder, though it only earned her another chuckle. With a roar, Dr. 'Whatever' took out a giant needle (which Breezepelt was definitely scared of), grabbed Breezepelt's arm, and plunged the needle into him. With an agonizing scream, Breezepelt attempted to punch the scientist. Instead, he fell to the ground, his fist only starting to clench, perfectly landing on his mattress.
Some of the people were shocked. "Dr. Mapleshade, won't that hurt him?" One asked, the voice a scared male.
"Oh, relax, Darkstripe. It'll just put him to sleep for a few hours, though for him, it'll seem more like a few days." With a sweep of her long, white labcoat, she left, leaving the workers to clean up the mess Breezepelt made.
...
Breezepelt slowly opened his eyes, ready to punch the next person he saw. Seeing a non-human face; and not caring; Breezepelt lashed out, sending the; the cat; reeling. "Hey!" The cat shouted, his face red. "I am your leader! You will NOT lash out at your leader!"
Onestar lifted his head to his deputy as she padded into the open space from a den in a small mound. "Oh, relax, Onestar; he was probably just having a bad dream."
More like I'm in one now, Breezepelt thought, his amber eyes weary of the two cats in front of him. I'm not going to fall for this shit, though; it's just a dream. Now I'm going to go back to sleep, and nothing will have happened.
The moment Breezepelt closed his eyes again, he felt pain in his cheek. His eyes flashed open. "Hey!" Breezepelt said, his turn to shout at the smirking Onestar.
"You're on moonhigh patrol by yourself. ThunderClan border. Now, shh, the entire Clan is asleep." Only at this moment did Breezepelt realize he was sleeping under the vast stars. Or, he used to be, until this... cat woke him up. After pondering a moment, Breezepelt thought, It's better than the hellhole where I live, I guess.
So with a nod, which surprised Onestar and Ashfoot, Breezepelt jumped away from the small, barely recognizable camp. After setting out for a couple minutes, Breezepelt realized that he probably wouldn't be able to return to camp without directions. Crud, Breezepelt thought, anger molding in his eyes, mostly at himself. Well, I guess I'll have to ask someone. It was... ThunderClan. Hm, they might know where the camp is. With a cocky strut, Breezepelt then realized he had no idea where ThunderClan was. Well I'll just keep walking, Breezepelt thought, not able to admit he was lost in this 'dream' universe. So, he kept on walking.
And walking.
And... walking.
Finally, after walking past the same bush at least 10 times, Breezepelt saw a patch of trees ahead. Smiling with relief, Breezepelt raced towards them, awkwardly, of course; the only place he could previously run was his small, plain gray room, which- Breezepelt suddenly cut off his thought. He was not going to think about that place, when he was in the one place that wasn't there, for once.
After tripping over his own paws and unseen stones (each at least 20 times), Breezepelt reached the patch of trees, and saw a whole forest behind it. After walking into the forest for a couple minutes, Breezepelt was practically punched by a rank smell that suddenly had appeared. After realizing this might be some sort of cat boundary line, Breezepelt scoffed. I'm not listening to any rules here. I'm here to do something I've always wanted to do; be free. After his own boost of confidence, Breezepelt cockily walked over the border; a few seconds later, he realized he made a huge mistake.
"Hey!" Came a shout, and suddenly, he was tackled to the ground, pinned by a smaller, but strong cat, who he couldn't really see in the dark. After a few vain struggles, he fell limp to the cat on top of him. With a snarl, the cat slashed at his face.
"Useless piece of fox-dung! What are you doing in ThunderClan territory, Breezepelt?" Came the offensive rebuke, along with a snarling question. Shocked at the rudeness, Breezepelt came back with a stinging remark.
"Maybe I just want to go wherever I want!" Breezepelt spat back, before realizing the full immaturity of the sentence.
With a laugh, the cat dragged him into a clearing, where the moonlight shone upon the two cats' pelts, their eyes not the only thing they could see of each other anymore. The strange cat's pelt came into view; white, with gray patches; and... was that... stripes? Almost reminding him of home, Breezepelt took a disliking to this cat; besides the fact the cat tackled him. And then, seconds later, he realized it was a she-cat. I got beat by a girl? Shit.
The she-cat raised her haunches, growling. "Let me ask again, before I rip your pelt off. What in StarClan's name are you doing here?" The serious, dangerous-sounding cat sent chills down Breezepelt's spine.
"Have fun trying.." Breezepelt said, weakly lifting a paw and unsheathing his claws.
With an angry roar (almost reminding him of that redhead; but, of course, Breezepelt blocked all thoughts of his 'old home'; though he didn't really call it home; oh, whatever, back to the story) the cat swerved to the side and jumped on him, her eyes deadly. "Filthy Dark Forest scum!" She spat, confusing Breezepelt, she tackled him, though he managed to roll her over on her back, so he was on top. Powerfully throwing him off, the she-cat jumped back. "What? No immediate death blow?" She sneered, jumping at him again.
Breezepelt snarled, jumping back, his cat instincts finally kicking in, after desperately dodging many blows, and too many to count landing. When white she-cat slashed at his flank, Breezepelt grabbed her paw in his mouth, and flung her to the ground. With a desperate 'umph', the partially tabby cat tried to get up, but Breezepelt pounced on her too quickly.
With a sneer, Breezepelt said, "Who's foxdung now?" And lifted up his paw, claws unsheathed, about to swipe down at his attacker's neck.
Until he truly saw... her.
Her eyes were stained with fear, and her ears and nose were trembling. She looked truly.. fearful. Now, he may have not been taught kindness, but suddenly, he knew not to kill her. With his murderous amber eyes going soft, and his arm weakly dropping to his side, he whispered, "Ivypool?" Suddenly realizing her name.
With a shake and a sob, Ivypool started to cry. "Please... please at least tell my sister- no, my family- no, my Clan, that I love them all. I appreciate them, regardless of what they've done. And.. and say I'm sorry that I didn't trust them. That... that I joined you, and the Dark Forest. That... that's all I ask." She said, trembling, her deep blue eyes sad. "Why.. why haven't you killed me yet," she said softly, though it sounded more like a rhetorical question, Breezepelt decided to answer.
"I... I don't really know.." Breezepelt said, realizing tears were forming in his eyes, too. Shaking them away, Breezepelt stepped off Ivypool. "Please. Just go." Breezepelt said, not wanting anyone to see him weak; even if it was just a dream. Ivypool slowly stood up, confused.
"This-this has to be some sort of cruel joke. What? Is WindClan planning an attack?" Ivypool asked, shaking, still scared.
Breezepelt shook his head calmly. "No, Ivypool. As I said, I don't know." Somehow, he was now in control of his emotions, though his thoughts were screaming at him to run away. He didn't want to go. He couldn't explain that, either. He just... didn't want to go.
He couldn't explain it, really. He knew he wanted to break the rules. He wanted to do something that back home, they would never approve of; even kill, if that's what it came to. He didn't want to be bound by what was back home. And, in the truth, it wasn't what was back home that made him do this, as he knew. It was something else. A tingling feeling. It wasn't all around, in his hands, or anything; it wasn't any sort of sickness. It wasn't in his chest, either. It was, strangely, in his head. It wasn't his brain, either. It was a little... side-brain. Off to the side. In his cheek. He didn't really know; he just knew it was from his side-brain. It was telling him.. hurting this cat wasn't going to pay off. It was just going to hurt him.
But his side-brain told him it would hurt all over, not just in his side brain. And he could fee the feeling- the tingling- flowing. And it felt good. He wasn't about to ruin this amazing feeling.
Ivypool shook her head. "Well... why are you being so nice?"
Suddenly, Breezepelt was sick of all Ivypool's questions. He didn't care what they were about; he didn't care how offensive the last one was. He didn't care how offensive any of them were. He just wanted to... shout. This feeling was definitely confusing.
"I don't know. Maybe I hate you. But I don't feel that. I think, honestly, I love you," Breezepelt said, blushing. "I can feel it. I can just feel it. Okay? Okay."
Ivypool, shocked, took a step back. Then, blushing, stepped forward and touched noses with his. "I guess I love you, too," she said, blushing like mad.
With an awkward stare at each other; which they both actually enjoyed; they raced off in different directions.
And then, of course, Breezepelt forgot to ask her where the WindClan camp was. But, of course, that moment, he didn't care. He felt like he could walk on air. In fact, he did. He saw Ivypool floating up, too. Walking...
...
...walking out of their dream.
Ivypool blinked open her (very human) eyelids, going back to her reality of a plain, gray room. She glanced at the Warriors book she had on her desk with a smile. She knew the scientists were simply trying to recreate the books in an attempt at a human movie; and maybe she didn't hate those books too much, now. She remembered the first WindClan cat... and remembered him walking off into the stars with her. That means their'll be a chance of me actually meeting him one day. Hopefully. If they don't make another 'mistake'. Ivypool smiled in satisfaction; maybe he broke a chair, too. All the more trouble for the authorities.
All the more.
Staring evilly at the newly replaced chair, Ivypool took a small pebble under her mattress (which was her only entertainment) and drew on her so-called 'stainless steel' desk (that was obviously not stainless steel) with the sharpened pebble. Though the sensation of her drawing on the surface made her body scream at her to stop, she didn't until she was done. It took her 10 minutes to write each letter; despite the surface not being stainless steel, it was still hard to write on; with the sensation not getting any better.
Finally, she was done; after a few hours, actually; with the note she left for herself. 'DESTROY CHAIR BEFORE SLEEP'. Even if Breezepelt wasn't there...
No.
Something was telling her that Breezepelt just.. was going to be there. She didn't understand the feeling. It told her Breezepelt would want to come back for some reason or another. She didn't care which, she supposed. Something was telling her that Breezepelt was going to be there, injected with the drug or not.
Almost like a little side-brain.
...