F.E.A.R.
This was it, I could hear the sounds of typing into the panel outside of my tank. It was feverish and quick, and the sounds of ragged breathing with the taps. Then I heard his voice: "This is how it ends…" Harland Wade, my father, the same father that had me locked away in this tank, left me to die. I felt a hot rage as the tank hissed open, my eyes falling upon the old withering man, 'Die…' I saw his eyes open wide as my mind raced, his skin boiled and he begun to scream, "NONONONONO!" shielding himself with his arms. "Pathetic," I thought, and in the next moment, my father was reduced from a cowering, sniveling bastard, to a bright crimson blood splatter on the wall. I didn't know what I was going to feel, murdering my father, but he stopped being my father the moment he decided I was too dangerous, and locked me inside that tube. I left that room, exploring this facility I was in, it was huge, then it hit me, or rather I saw it, I phased into a bathroom, the place was covered in blood, and the lights were flickering on and off, and in the mirror, I saw myself, shock. 'What…. Happened?' I wasn't 8 anymore, my dress was gone, I was tall, my skeleton was showing under my skin, which was hanging off my body loosely, my skin was pale, sickly so, and I was taller, and my raven black hair was longer and matted to my head, I was older, far older than I remember. Of course I had trouble remembering what had happened in the tube, while my body was imprisoned, I stayed as far away as I could. I only awoke for the birthing of my two children, who I've seen many times after the bastards took them to be their psychic commanders. I can still see the doctors ripping my children away from my arms and... The pain, my thoughts raced and swirled inside my mind, like a flood, then I remembered, vaguely, a researcher stating to one of his coworkers, outside of my containment chamber "…She has been in there for 12 years... Floating in the darkness." Then I could hear nothing, that must've been when they shut off the tube, killed me, left me in the suffocating darkness. 'I'm…. 20.' the thought made the others thoughts settle in my mind before I froze, a pulse, echoed through me, leaving me somewhat breathless, it was stronger than anything I've ever felt, like a presence in a dark room, where you can't shake the feeling of something being there, I caught my breath and looked around for whatever was making this, beacon.
I phased through nearly half the city until I reached this source of disturbance, I was now in a high rise building, a penthouse, and my heart thumped in my chest, something I hadn't felt in a long time was zipping in my body, excitement. The source was this man, clad in a combat outfit, clutching his head in pain. He was like a pulse, making himself known to me, and he could feel my presence, hence the headache. Then I felt something else, the ground trembled and I turned to the view of Auburn. Sun shining over the city, and words echoed in the back of my head 'She's a woman now, and she doesn't even know it.' A shockwave shattered the glass inward, and I watched as a massive explosion erupted from the Auburn industrial district, where I was imprisoned, it was a bright orange flash that now spread over the city, almost like a mushroom blanketing over the city. I turned, seeing the man, who was struggling to keep himself from being thrown back, his eyes were obscured by these combat glasses but his face was strong and had the hint of a stubble on his face, defined, his hair was feathery and appeared soft, I didn't know why I was so interested in this soldier, this telesthetic beacon, echoing with a noise only I could hear. Then I saw his grip loosening on the bolted piano, and I rushed to clasp my hand over his strengthening his grip on the leg, ensuring he would stay where he was, but I saw the glass had sliced his cheek and left razor thin cuts all over his face, and I felt dread of his death, then I caught my emotions. 'What...' I thought to myself, 'Why do I care, why am I doing this?!' I puzzled even myself, and watched as he was struck in the head by a lamp, knocking him out cold. I paused staring at the man, his head fell onto the floor and he appeared to be sleeping. I knelt down next to him, placing my hand against his scalp, gently patting his head, like a dog. I was unsure of what to do next and left his side, he'd survive, I just felt it, I phased to a restroom, taking a look at my new self. My curiosity piqued as I examined my strange, dilapidated form. My skin sagged, my lips were shriveled, forming a thin line for my mouth, it wasn't healthy, obviously, my hair was in horrid condition and matted to my head like a wet mop, my rib cage was exposed under my deathly thin form, it looked like I hadn't eaten in years. 'Which is accurate in my situation,' I thought. I looked like I was dead, I finally decided, I look dead. The thought deflated itself as my mind turned to the man, I had to find out what the hell was so special about him, what made me... drawn to him. When I phased back to the scene in the penthouse, his combat glasses were gone, someone was checking his pupils, and a team of men in suits examined the scene. Armachan PMCs were littered on the ground, I hadn't noticed them before, bullets ripped through their combat vests like tissue paper, blood pooling under their clothes, and I heard the men speak to one another. "How the hell did one SFOD-D guy rip through three Armachan squads in one night?" This man was tall and lanky, he spoke to another man who was an inch or two shorter and slightly wider "I have no fucking clue, T, but it seems like Aristeade wants this guy alive" I looked away from the two back up to the soldier, he was being lifted by two men in suits, his head hung low and his eyes were shut. 'Hm, where are they taking you soldier boy?' I phased back next to him as they dragged him up to the roof, where three other similarly outfitted soldiers were being dragged by their arms, to what looked like an emergency response helicopter. The logo and name of the local hospital was printed on the nose of the chopper. I took a seat next to him, the men in suits tying the unconscious soldiers to the floor of the chopper, in order to prevent them from moving during flight. I barely took notice of the other three SFOD-D soldiers on the ride to the hospital, as I was observing the man, his name tag was printed on the left side of his chest, it read: 'Sgt. Beckett' I could feel the corners of my mouth tilt into a smile 'Beckett... I like that name'.
-Hey my viewers, my friend Lombax15 helped me write this chapter, he is an excellent writer and you should check out his work, until next time my readers.-