Author's note: So umm...it's been awhile, eh? Sorry. I've decided to rework The Subject into something a little less rushed and a little more in character. Some of the plot will be the same while some of it will be completely different. I hope my readers enjoy the reworking and feel free to leave feedback!
Disclaimer for all: don't own nothin'.
I've never considered myself to be an "outdoorsy" sort of person. I'll admit, nature is a beautiful and wonderful gift that should be treasured and preserved for those who wish to experience nature in its purest form as long as they wish. People like my father believe that everyone should spend at least thirty minutes a day in the throes of nature, no matter how terrible the heat index or humidity get. Those who disagree and prefer to live their lives in temperatures under 80 degrees Fahrenheit are labeled as no-life, overweight depressed trolls; though I'm pretty sure he only thinks of me in that way.
But that's completely irrelevant right now. I can brood about my piss poor family situation later.
Right now, I'm in a forest. A very thick and deep forest that looks nothing like the forest behind my house. For one, it's missing the large obnoxious "No Trespassing" sign that most of the people in my neighborhood blatantly ignore. For another, the terrain looks as if it had not been maintained for hiking. I also didn't remember falling asleep in the forest.
Which lead me to wonder why I'm currently propped up against a tree trunk.
I blink in confusion as I survey my surroundings as my mind goes into panic driven overdrive. Where was I? How did I get here? Why am I here? Who did this to me? Why did they do this to me? What the hell is going on?
I close my eyes and attempt to calm myself with deep calming breaths.
In. Out. In. Out. Slow, concise, controlled. I am in control of my thoughts. I am totally not freaking out right now. Nope. Nuh uh. Not me.
First question. Where was I? Judging by the air quality and temperature, I'm most definitely not in Louisiana anymore. The air I was currently breathing was lacking the oppressive humidity and last I had checked, it was summer, so if I were still in Louisiana, it would be over 100 degrees and the humidity would be making it worse.
It felt like a nice spring day in the Midwestern United States rather than a horrid summer's day in the Deep South. Was I transported somewhere by someone? Or something?
Why would someone transport me, a random 20 something that had little to no interaction with the outside world, to a place like this? Perhaps my family had finally snapped and sold me off to participate in some sort of social experiment? Was I going to have to participate in some sort of Hunger Games scenario?
The thought of having to fight for my life gave me the energy to stand, and I immediately wish I hadn't, as the wooziness from standing up too fast set in. I brace my back against the tree, holding my head in my hands.
"Dammit." I mutter, trying not to burst into tears. I can't be crying now, not when I have my life on the line. I'm freaking out again. Controlled breathing. I can do this. I am in control. Say it, now.
"I. am. in. control." I whisper through clenched teeth. Alright. Inventory check. What do I currently have on my person?
- The clothes that I am wearing:
- Pink fuzzy socks, now soiled by the dirt.
- Pajama shorts, blue in color, very immodest, but I am thankful for them as I usually don't sleep in shorts
- A grey tank top
- One pair of glasses, currently on my face.
- A ponytail holder, currently holding my longish reddish brown hair in place. Mostly.
End Inventory.
I groan. If I were in a RPG, I'd be absolutely screwed. Overweight, out of shape, weaponless, armorless. I'm a walking target.
So what the hell do I do? I slide downwards against the trunk and start to sob. Like a fucking coward.
Suddenly, my eyelids feel extremely heavy and my head is extremely woozy and I'm too weak to fight the feeling, so I let the unconsciousness overtake me.
This is how I die, I guess.
Meanwhile..
It started as a simple recon mission.
One of Orochimaru-sama's subordinates had reported a chakra anomaly (or rather, a chakra void), and Yakushi Kabuto was intrigued enough to investigate the anomaly himself. His current projects were starting to bore him anyway.
Tracker in hand, Kabuto swiftly makes his way towards the anomaly. His mind races with excitement. What sort of entity would cause such a lack of chakra? Perhaps he could use this to his advantage when he inevitably faces his master in combat. Of course, further study and experimentation would need to be done.
Kabuto smirks at the thought of the possibility as the tracker makes a noise through the earpiece lodged in his right ear, indicating that the target was dead ahead.
Kabuto's smirk fades when he spots the anomaly.
The anomaly was a woman slumbering against a tree trunk. A civilian woman in her early to mid twenties. Most likely foreign, judging by her facial features. Her body, while not obese, is quite out of shape, her natural curves billowing out just a bit more than they should. She is dressed skimpily, as if someone had pulled her out of bed without her permission. A pair of square glasses adorn her face, as if she had fallen asleep unexpectedly.
The young scientist debates whether to wake the girl or take her back to his lab while she is still unconscious. His sadistic side wins out in the end, prompting him to wake the girl, making certain she is unaware of her presence. How will she react, he wonders. Kabuto sets his tracker to a certain frequency, guaranteed to wake anything in the vicinity. Then, he pulls out a small writing pad, and prepares for the first experiment.
The subject's eyes fly open and she lets out a gasp of fear. Her eyes are large, blue and terrified, indicating that she did not wake up where she had fallen asleep. As she observes her surroundings, the subject looks as if she's on the verge of a panic attack, which confirmed Kabuto's hypothesis: she was placed in the forest against her will. Interesting.
He observes his new experiment subject as she cycles through several methods to calm herself and think rationally, none of which seemed to be of any effect. She starts cursing in the language of the Western continent, a language Kabuto knows almost as well as his native tongue. Excellent. Communication will be no problem, he notes.
Finally, her despair sets in and the subject begins to sob heavily, curling into a fetal position against the base of the tree. Obviously she had given up, and it was time for Kabuto to collect.
Kabuto digs into his pack and puts on his gas mask, before reaching into his pack again to launch a sleep grenade into the forest below.
It doesn't take long for the girl to succumb to unconsciousness, and Kabuto swoops down from his hiding place in the trees and claims his prize, scooping his new subject into his arms and taking her to his lab for further experimentation.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I find myself coming out of unconsciousness slowly.
Guess I'm not dead yet. Wonderful. I groan softly as I open my eyes slowly. I note that I'm hooked up to several machines, one of which is a heart monitor that is incessantly beeping away, confirming the fact that yes, I was, in fact, alive.
I slowly turn my head to the right. Sure enough, there was the monitor and...I check my arm. Yup, there's an IV too.
"Huh. I've never been hospitalized." I murmur softly to myself.
"And you still haven't. This isn't a hospital."
A voice. Male. Tenor. American, I guessed, but I could be wrong. Attractive.
"Huh. Sure looks like a hospital room to me." I deadpan softly. He laughs in response. It's a nice laugh.
Footsteps, then a guy comes into my line of sight.
He's definitely in his early twenties, with slightly East Asian facial features. Despite his age, the guy had fully silver hair, that he wore long and pulled back into a low ponytail against his neck. He's wearing a lab-coat, and large Harry Potter-like glasses.
"Aren't you a bit young to be a doctor, Doc?" I ask wearily. The guy's lips twitch upward in amusement.
"I'm a medic, not a doctor."
"Oh, I see. You only help people be more comfortable, while they die."
My half-assed Red vs Blue reference gets a larger chuckle out of my caretaker. I doubt he got the reference but hey at least I made him laugh?
"You're not dying." he says. "According to my initial tests, you're just fine. If you're up to it I'd like to ask you a few questions, is that all right?"
"Yeah, okay. I guess." I mumble. I feel lethargic. I had a feeling that the guy was drugging me with something in that IV to keep me docile. Something was wrong here. He's definitely hiding something.
The guy who is definitely not a doctor pulls out a notepad and pen.
"What is your full name?"
"Marie Ann Baxter"
"Date of Birth?"
"May 26th, 1993."
The medic frowns. "And how old does that make you?"
"...Seriously? I'm twenty-five."
"Occupation?
I hold up a hand to stop him. "Wait a second. I have a few questions of my own, alright?"
The young medic raises an eyebrow, pockets his notepad and crosses his arms against his chest. "Alright. What do you want to know?"
"Who are you?"
"My name is Yakushi Kabuto.
"
My eyes widen. Red flag. Red fucking flag.
I yank the IV out of my arm quickly and attempt to run the fuck out of there. This man obviously has mental issues and if he's modeling his fantasies off of a character in fucking Naruto, then I need to get far far away from him and his drugs before he makes me into one of them.
However the drugs were still in my system so I just kind of floundered on the bed.
"Curious. You've heard of me, then? Would've thought that someone as insignificant as myself wasn't worth the infamy? Ah, well. Suppose it was inevitable." he muses.
I need to run. I need to get out of here. Now. He has equipment and shit and if he has deluded himself into thinking that he's Yakushi Kabuto, I'm in for a lifetime of human experimentation.
"W-what are you planning to do with me?" I whisper.
Kabuto sighs dramatically. "Well, Marie-san, you are a mystery. You are alive and you exist, yet you don't generate any chakra whatsoever. How can that be, I wonder?"
I shrug silently.
"Do you want to hear my theory, Marie-san?"
"I'm assuming you're going to tell me whether I say yes or no. But, sure. I'll play along. Tell me." I mutter weakly.
"Everything in this world generates chakra, therefore, you must not be from this world. Your answers to my questions support this hypothesis. For example, the way you structured your date of birth. This world has a similar month and date structure but the year is unfamiliar with me. It's not because you are foreign, because I am familiar with the Western year system. But the most interesting observation of all is your reaction to my name."
"I-is that so?"
"I detected a hint of familiarity in your eyes. I must know, is there another me in your world?"
I laugh nervously, without humor. "Look, I get it. Kabuto's your favorite Naruto character. Guess what, I'm a Kabuto sympathizer. His story is tragic and yeah his head's a bit screwed up but that's not his fault. At his core he's a kind man, albeit very very deep down. But what you're doing is dangerous not only to me but to yourself. Living in a fantasy world is not healthy and I'm willing to help you seek mental health assistance if you would just let me go. Please."
After I finished speaking, Kabuto starts laughing maniacally, his grin growing even wider and crueler. "So, according to you, I'm a fictional character, is that what I'm hearing?" He leans closer to me, his hands are on the mattress and his eyes are filled with manic energy.
"Y-you need help. Serious psychiatric help."
"From your perspective, I'm sure I do." He leans closer to me, his nose inches away from my own. His eyes scan my face intensely.
"W-what are you doing?"
"You have a bruise ..." "Kabuto" murmurs softly, his breath tickling my face lightly. He does a few hand signs, and brings his right hand to my forehead, and suddenly it's glowing green and I can't stop myself from screaming.
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