That cell. That dreary, concrete-slab cell. For as long as he existed, he'd been locked in that little room. It was the first place he could remember being; not held close in a loving mother's arms, but locked in a cage. Hell, for the longest time, he had no concept of what the word 'Mother' meant. There were no caring parents where he was born. There were only the apathetic scientists. The endless tests. The needles. And, of course, that plain white concrete wall he'd stare at all day… Until they came to get him for more tests.
Who was he, exactly? If you'd have asked him back then, he wouldn't be able to give you an answer. He had no name to give. He was only a number. Unconsciously, his hand moved to the back of his shaved head, caressing the tattoo he'd long ago been branded with. 006941. That was his number. That was his name. He was just a figure to be punched into an equation. That's how it had always been.
He wasn't the only one, of course. On either side of his cell, he knew there were two kids just like him, staring blankly at the walls as if waiting for them to change somehow. And he knew that on either side of them were yet more children, all without names. All without souls. There must have been hundreds of them. Of course, he'd never bothered to count before. Any shred of amusement only left him more miserable once he returned to his cell. He knew that. All the kids knew that. That's why none of them ever attempted to play when they were let out for those scant seconds every few days. None of them even bothered to talk to each other. Conversation was amusement, and amusement meant misery. It was one of the unspoken rules every child in there came to understand. The hard way, of course.
Suddenly, there was movement behind him. The sound of footsteps echoing through the wards was commonplace, but these came to a stop just outside his cell. Cautiously, curiously, he looked back over his shoulder to see who was there. Standing just beyond the energy field that kept him caged were two figures. The first was a common sight. The familiar pale-gray alien stood slightly hunched over a digital tablet held in his slender hands, his huge black eyes darting back and forth as he took in the data. Standing next to him was a man he was sure he'd never seen before. He was tall, at least compared to the thin, lab coat-clad being that was leading him around. He had dark brown hair that naturally set into spikes, and had a short beard that was combed down neatly. His clothes were unlike anything the boy had seen before; regal, yet combat-ready. He wore thin armor on his torso, gilded here and there without looking too gaudy. A red cape draped down his back, skirting about his ankles. He wore black pants that accentuated every muscle in his legs. Wrapped tightly at his waist, instead of a belt, there was a brown fur tail. The boy's own tail twitched when he saw that. This man… Was like him?
Suddenly, his eyes wandered back to the little gray alien, whose own eyes had stopped their darting back and forth and were now focused on one line on his data pad. "Hmmm… Green eyes… A recessive trait in Saiyans…" the scientist mused aloud to himself, his voice sounding as though he'd inhaled just a small amount of helium. This caused the man next to him to raise a thin black eyebrow. "A problem, Dr. Saleon?"
The alien gave the slightest shake of his bulbous head as his thin fingers glided across the screen of the data pad, advancing text and bringing up certain details he was looking for. "I don't understand. The subject is already five years old. If a recessive gene had manifested itself obviously enough for it to be recorded, then why hasn't the subject been terminated yet?" the alien spoke quickly and precisely, a habit for his species. The Saiyan man next to him folded his arms across his chest, a gruff growl rolling in his throat. "Your people obviously made a careless mistake. The goal of this project was to breed for only dominant genes. What's the point of even hiring you Salarians if you just let a defect like this slide? Who knows what other recessive traits this thing could be carrying? How can the Saiyan race grow to perfection when this is the best you can give me?" he roared, his deep voice booming through the halls of the ward. The boy could see Dr. Saleon's eye twitch slightly.
"Even our most advanced sciences are not perfect, General. Every now and then, you're bound to get a botched result. All one can do is get rid of it and try again. In the mean time, I'll make sure to reprimand the one in charge of this cell blo—" the Salarian cut off suddenly, heaving a heavy sigh when he found the name in question. "Morlan. Of course…" he grumbled wearily to himself, massaging his temple in an attempt rid himself of the horrible headache that was Dr. Morlan. It didn't help. "I'll have this one terminated as soon as possible. He won't be a problem."
The Saiyan General nodded in approval of the action. "Terminate the rest of the batch along with it. I don't want to take any chances." he announced nonchalantly, causing Dr. Saleon to whip his head around to stare wide-eyed up at the Saiyan. "W-with all due respect, General, I think that's a bit excessive! If we simply review the results properly—"
"Don't bother. It'll just be a waste of time. Get rid of them and start working on another batch. I want real warriors this time." The General replied, preempting whatever nonsense he was sure the gray alien was abut to spew up. He then turned on his heel and continued down the hall. Dr. Saleon lingered for a moment, hanging his shoulders in defeat, but letting out a scoff. "Tch… Fucking cloacae…" "What was that, Saleon?" "N-nothing, General!" After that last little exchange, Dr. Saleon scurried off after the General, leaving the boy to his usual silence.
Barely a half an hour had passed before the other scientists came to round the children up. The boy could hear the low hum of almost a hundred energy barriers as they were deactivated, his own included. Instinctively, he rose to his feet and marched out the gaping door, standing idle just beyond the threshold. Automatically, he turned to his left, coming to stare at the back of another young boy's head. 006940. He knew that number. Since the first day he could walk, it was this boy he'd always walked behind. He couldn't tell you what the boy's face looked like. No one ever bothered to look behind them. There was no need to. If they knew each other's faces, they may feel sadness when that child was suddenly 'terminated'.
Ah, there was another word the Saiyan boy had no idea of the meaning behind. He'd heard the scientists say it hundreds of times before, yet it never really clicked. All he knew was that all the kids they 'terminated' never came back. Their numbers were never seen or heard again.
The boy swallowed the lump growing in his throat. They were going to do that to him. He'd never be seen again. This was bad. He didn't know why, or how, but he just knew it was something he didn't want to happen to him. For the first time in his life, he could think of only one thing; he had to get out.
Suddenly, the boy in front of him began walking forward, a signal that he, too, should begin moving. The procession moved silently and without need for direction, weaving neatly through pristine white halls. After a while, the line began to turn around unfamiliar corners, to parts of the massive facility none of them had ever been. It all looked the same, of course. Blank walls. Blinding white. There was one difference, though; the smell. The further they went, the stronger the stench of bleach and other sterilizing chemicals got. It wasn't an unfamiliar scent, but it was never this strong before. Once the odor became almost too much for him to bear, the line stopped.
It was fifteen minutes later before the line moved again. They took a single step forward, and stopped. He could feel his heart begin to race. This was it. This was where they'd be terminated. One by one. Agonizingly slow. The boy glanced to either side. There had to be a way out. There just had to. Once again, the line moved forward another space. This time, he chanced a look behind him. His emerald green eyes met with the black ones of the girl that stood behind him. At first, there was no reaction. After a few seconds, she furrowed her dark eyebrows, a perplexed look on her face. He quickly averted his eyes, returning them to the back of 006940's head. The line moved forward again. And again. And again. His breathing became heavy, his heart feeling as if it would beat right out of his chest. The line moved again. This time, however, he remained still.
It wasn't until the line moved once more that the girl behind him noticed the gap that was forming. She leaned to the side, looking around him. He stood frozen, eyes fixed straight ahead. The line moved again. Her brow furrowed, her tail flicking back and forth behind her in annoyance. The line moved again. Finally sick of his lack of movement, she poked 006941 in the small of his back. "Move…" was all she said, in a voice that was little more than a whisper. She hadn't spoken in as long as he had.
Finally, he did as she asked, but not in a way she was expecting. The boy bolted from the line, sprinting away down the hall, away from where the line of children was headed. He heard the surprised shouts of dozens of raspy, unused voices as he ran past. He ignored them as best he could. He had a feeling this was his only chance. He couldn't afford any distractions. Soon, the rest of the children were far behind him, the angry shouts of frantic Salarian scientists mere echoes down the halls. He bolted past several more, who immediately demanded he stop. A few attempted to chase him down, but they were all too slow. He left them winded, gasping for air as he took off like a rocket through the facility. Suddenly, he came to his first real obstacle; a door. Not wanting to stop for even a second, he ducked his head and braced his arms in front. He snapped his eyes shut just before impact.
Two heavy steal doors buckled and flew off their hinges, crashing to the floor with a deafening bang and screeching a few feet along the concrete. The small boy darted over the ruined steel, now running past sad little cages that held children just like him. Hundreds of them. Each child looked up when he ran past, some even pressing their little faces against their cell's energy barrier, trying to see what was going on. About halfway down the cell block, he could have sworn he heard a small, raspy voice calling to him as he passed. Then, another. Soon, as he neared the door at the other end of the cell block, the collective shouts of all the children reached a deafening pitch. They were all cheering him on, despite knowing that, no matter the outcome of this boy's escape attempt, they'd likely never see him again. Everything would return to normal. They'd be miserable again.
But all that didn't matter right now. This child was doing what no other could even conceive of doing; he was running away. Defying the scientists. Doing what he thought was right. Unwittingly, that bold little boy had filled his brothers and sisters with a hope they'd never felt in their lives.
He burst through the next set of doors almost easier than the first, proceeding down another cell block. This one was different than the first, however. This room towered upward countless stories, row after row after row of cells lining the walls ascending upwards. There were thousands of them. Each of these cells, unlike the ones in his own block, housed two adults each; one male, and one female. The significance of this was beyond a five-year-old's comprehension, of course. He'd never seen anyone but other children in those cells, however. He took his eyes off his path for a moment, examining the coupled Saiyans as he passed. It was his first mistake.
Almost immediately, the boy felt himself collide with what felt like a massive brick wall, causing him to tumble backwards and slam his head against the concrete floor. He scrambled up to his feet, stumbling back a few steps before he got a chance to look up at what he'd run into. He met with the dark obsidian eyes of the Saiyan General, who's stern countenance sent shivers down the young child's spine. Still, the boy held fast, his fists balling up in defiance at his side. The General raised an eyebrow. This boy was afraid. No, he was positively terrified. Yet here he was, refusing to back down against the single strongest warrior in the Saiyan military. The corner of the man's mouth twisted upwards into a smirk.
"Such a brave little guinea pig. Please, boy. Show me how deep that bravery runs." The General offered with a chuckle, beckoning him to take his best shot with a small hand motion. The boy took a staggering step back ward. The General's eyes narrowed, a small sigh escaping his lips. So he was just another coward after all. He lowered his hand. The second he did, however, the boy bared his fangs, dashing forward and leaping up, a fist pulled pack and ready to strike. The General had just enough time to catch the boy's fist mere inches before it would strike his face. He skidded backwards on his heels a few inches from the residual force of the blow.
Seconds later, Dr. Saleon came jogging down the hall, wheezing from his chase of the boy. Once he caught up with the General, he doubled over, one hand on his knee, and the other resting on his concave sternum, attempting to catch his breath. Once he got the chance to look up, he spotted the General holding the wrist of the young escapee, who was dangling limp in the man's grip. He wasn't unconscious, just disappointed. He'd been so close…
"Th-thank you, General… I don't know how this happened… I'll take it back… have it put down immediately…" Dr. Saleon gasped out between labored breaths, now attempting to stand straight and make himself presentable. Much to the Salarian's surprise, the General merely let out a chuckle. "Y'know, I think you may have been mistaken about this one. I don't see a damn thing wrong with him." He said, searching the boy's emerald eyes. The kid looked as though he was about to cry, though he desperately fought back the tears, as if too proud to be seen sulking over a defeat. The General was suitably impressed. Saleon, however, was understandably perplexed.
"E-excuse me, General? B-but you were the one that said defects were unacceptable! Green eyes are a sign of recessi—" The Salarian's protest was cut off by a halting hand. "I'm really getting tired of all your 'science' mumbo-jumbo, Saleon. This kid's pretty Goddamned strong for his age, and his fighting instincts persist even though he was raised in a shit-hole like this. That's a true warrior's spirit right there, if ya ask me. I think I can forgive something as stupid as green eyes for that." Finally, the little boy looked up at the soldier. Did he really call him 'he'? Ever since he could remember, he'd always been referred to as an 'it'. An object. That was the first time anyone ever spoke of him as a person.
Dr. Saleon let out a frustrated growl, shaking his head. "Fine… So what exactly do you want us to do with it now?" he grumbled, folding his arms under his chest with a huff. The General glared at the doctor, lowering the boy so that his feet touched the ground, but not releasing his grip on his wrist. "You aren't gonna do a damn thing. I'm taking the kid. He'll be more useful in a unit of his own rather than wasting away in a breeding cell with some whore." At that, the boy chanced a glance back at Dr. Saleon, who was absolutely seething. "Great! Fantastic! And what do expect us to do about all the others that saw him trying to escape? Or all of these, who just watched you essentially set that thing free? I'll have a full-scale riot in here by the end of the week! Even preempting that scenario will set this project back years!" the Salarian ranted, his face flushing a dull shade of green in pure anger. The General merely responded with a half-hearted shrug of his shoulders. "Your problem. Not mine." He replied before turning around and leading the boy down the hall. After they passed through the threshold of the next doorway, the child could hear the high-pitched irate shriek of the head scientist, along with the sound of something being thrown and shattered against the doors as they closed behind the two Saiyans.