March, 2001
He was scared, terrified even, his eyes squeezed tightly shut as his hearing strained to pick up even the slightest of noises, but the only sound that filled his ears was the frantic beat of his own heart.
When they'd pulled him from training this morning, he had been expecting a trip to the labs, an experiment or a shot of sorts. When they'd deposited him in this dank pit, ten feet down with jagged glass lining the walls and a trap door that was too high for him to reach, he'd screamed.
He'd been screaming for hours but nobody was listening and even if they were, nobody had come.
He couldn't understand why he was here. Only bad soldiers got punished and he hadn't been a bad soldier…had he?
What had he done wrong? Was he too slow? Not smart enough or strong enough? Had he violated his training in some way or done something contradictory to some protocol he couldn't remember?
He had no answers, only questions, questions that did nothing to alleviate his fears.
He knew he was crying and he knew he wasn't supposed to be. That had been one of the lessons that had been taught to them in the labs before they'd even begun to train.
"You're a soldier, 563," a guard had barked at him, striking him across the face with a sneer. "Soldiers don't cry. Only fucking pussies cry. Are you a pussy, 563?"
"NO, SIR!" He had shouted, cheek stinging from the blow and eyes watering, but he held back the tears and kept his eyes front exactly like they had been taught.
He didn't know what the guards words meant, only that a pussy was not a soldier and since 563 was a soldier, he couldn't be one.
He didn't understand a lot of things, but he was young still. He'd interacted with one of the X4's who'd called him a 'kid' and had informed him that he didn't know anything before marching away.
I really am stupid, 563 concluded, head buried in his arms and he sniffed away his tears.
I'll be better, he promised himself, wiping at his face with the sleeves of his gown and straightening upright. They'll never have to put me back here again.
Lesson learned, he stayed straight and alert, signifying that he that he had learned his lesson, but the hours passed and still nobody came.
At some point in time hunger hit, then thirst, then exhaustion, but still he sat.
Time passes in immeasurable moments when you're alone in the dark and by the time the light came, 563 was unconscious.
September, 2001
His terror was greater this time, his memories fresh and vivid of his last stint in the dark.
"I didn't do anything!" He screamed up at the faceless people on the other side of the door. "I'm a good soldier! I didn't do anything!"
But nobody listened and nobody cared and he was left a shaking mess in the bottom of a cold, dirty pit.
"I'm a good soldier, I'm a good soldier, I'm a good soldier," he mumbled to himself, arms wrapped tightly around his legs and he stared sightlessly into the abyss and rocked himself into a mind-numbing stupor.
This time when they came he awake but completely unresponsive.
January, 2002
He was silent as he landed on cats paws at the bottom of the pit. He didn't look up, didn't shout, didn't plead, simply settled in the middle space and waited.
He tried to count the seconds, but there were so many even his superior mind couldn't keep track.
When they let him out this time, he climbed on his own, heedless of the cuts he received from the glass.
The sergeant barely paid him any attention as he was dismissed.
Still, he paused at the door, turning to face the sergeant, expression lost.
"What did I do wrong?" The sergeant's lips pulled down in a frown, annoyance on his expression as he stared at the child soldier.
"You exist," came the scathing reply. "That's reason enough."
April, 2002
He judged the passing of the days by the dirt on his skin. If there were clean patches, he hadn't been there long enough. When he was finally covered in dirt and smelling so badly his nose went numb, there was a fifty percent chance they'd let him out.
They'd waited the last time, though. They'd shoved him down here with a small bleeding cut and by the time they'd dragged him out, there were bugs and maggots crawling out of the infected wound.
The doctors had been curiously detached, poking and prodding him before deciding – with a shrug – that even X5's had their limits.
563 didn't understand limits anymore. The only thing he understood was the quiet – the endless hours left alone with nothing and nobody to comfort you.
This time when he returned to his squad, he shrugged off their arms. He embraced no one, responded to nothing. There was only the mission, the next order.
There was only the dark and the creeping quiet.
June, 2002
374 curled onto her side, staring sightlessly off into space, the every appearance of a traumatized child on the outside but inside – inside her mind was racing.
She didn't know what she had done wrong and she was trying – desperately – to figure it out. Her mind was spitting answers at her and rejecting them as quickly as they arrived.
Perhaps her boots weren't clean enough.
863's boots were dirtier.
Perhaps her range scores weren't high enough.
793's were worse.
Maybe she'd violated protocol.
Everything was the same, though.
Her reactions – her squads reactions – they had all been identical.
So why was she here then?
This was her seventh trip this year. She'd learned the futility of screaming and crying for mercy. She'd learned the unfairness, the raging inconsistencies of life, that whirled around her like ghosts – spirits in the dark that came to visit at random.
Most importantly, though, she'd learned patience.
She controlled her heartbeat now – her breathing, her pulse, waking and sleeping.
She'd mastered her own body, pushed herself beyond normal limits.
She could see in the dark, smell, taste…but most importantly, she could hear.
It was small, faint, but there – another heartbeat, not her own, but equally as steady and unmoved by the passage of time.
It was nearby, close enough that she knew whoever it was was down in a pit like her.
She counted many minutes as they turned into hours, but she was dry throated, unable to decide how to approach this other person.
Would they even hear her?
There was another X5 down here – he could smell the faint scent through the dirt walls.
He didn't recognize her, but her scent was faint in his pit letting him know that whoever she was, she'd been down here before.
The calm of heartbeat so easily matching his own let him know that she'd been down here plenty of times before.
He didn't track the minutes or hours, but he'd been listening to her heartbeat for a while. Laying on his side, he tentatively, carefully placed a hand against the dirt of the wall and instead of listening or seeing – he felt.
The hair on the back of her neck shifted, not exactly going up, but rustling as an instinctive awareness brushed at her attention.
Reaching over, she tentatively set her fingers against the dirt of the wall and when the connection seemed to strengthen, she pressed her hand fully against the dirt and let her eyes flutter close.
She was there and she knew he was here – he could almost feel the warmth of her hand against his own.
He could also feel her confusion – she no more knew why they were down here than he did.
Quietly they lay like this, a subtle warmth infusing both of them until the door was once more opened and they were dragged back into the world, neither one of them able to see the other ones face even for a moment. Still, 563 knew that if he ever met her again, he would know. Her essence was just as strong to him now as his own.
February, 2003
They lay quietly on their sides, fingers pressed roughly into the dirty, eyes closed as they silently, wordlessly communicated.
374 – that was her designation, carefully tapped against the dirt – was hungry. He could feel the emptiness in her stomach almost as certainly as he could feel his own.
She'd been down here three days before him, but she hadn't been alone.
There was another X5, designation unknown, in the pit bordering both of theirs. He was loud, angry almost, and violent.
And scared.
But he was quiet now – undoubtedly unconscious.
At least, that's what 563 thought until he heard it – a thump against the dirt wall that had his eyes opening, his head instinctively jerking around to face the noise.
He could feel 374's curiosity and sent back a wave of intent as he shifted upright, crawling on hands and knees till he reached the point where their three pits intersected before carefully pressing his hand back into the dirt and reaching.
256 recoiled from the brush, his hair standing on end, his heartbeat – which had yet to slow to a normal rhythm – revamping its speed and his breath once more came in harsh, staccato pantings that had him dizzy.
He didn't like this – didn't like the dark, enclosed spaces. He could feel the pressure of the underground and he could taste the wrongness of it all.
He wasn't supposed to be here. There was a note of truth to that one thought that had nothing to do with anything Manticore had done.
He'd felt the other two the second he'd entered the pits, but it'd been background noise – a fuzz in his thoughts.
Until exhaustion and hunger had made him weak and sent him to his knees.
Lying there, facedown in the dirt, he'd become aware of a faint link and connection that seemed to be emanating from their direction and curiosity had prompted him to drag himself closer to that strange warmth.
But when the warmth brushed against him – unexpectedly and unwanted – he panicked again.
374 was distressed and so was the other X5 and 563 was frantic as he tried to retain control over the connection that had been tentatively formed, but the other X5 was fighting it tooth, nail, claw, and with everything else that he had.
Stop it!
374 didn't use words, but the intent was at a shouted decibel and the other X5 immediately ceased his actions, his attention wavering from 563's brush to 374's gentler warmth.
256 brushed his hand against the dirt where the female was lying, eyes blinking wide in the darkness as he felt her brush back and that other connection – the one with the male – settled over both of them like a warm blanket.
It could have been minutes or hours or even days, but under the influence of the two warm minds, 256's eyes fluttered and closed and finally he drifted into blissful unconsciousness.
May 2003
There were more of them now.
563 had tried to keep track of the pits once, but he'd learned that this wasn't the only room they were contained in.
He wondered if the entire basement had holes dug into it – deep pits of broke glass and rusty nails and space that was starting to get smaller with each passing moment.
374 wasn't here but that didn't mean she wasn't in the pits – she could be in another room. The tentative connection they had seemed to only work when they were in close quarters.
256 – the frantic male they'd met almost eight months ago – was.
He was leaning against the dirt wall, back to back with 563, the faint warmth of the other X5 bring comfort to each of them.
By his count, there were eleven other X5's in the pits around them, but he didn't recognize any of them and neither did 256 which made him wonder if Manticore was singling out one member of each squad for this treatment.
No one else in his squad had ever been here – he'd never asked, but he could tell just by looking at them that they'd never experienced the gripping terror of having all your senses taken from you at once.
He wondered still, years after his first night in the pits, why. Why him? Why this? What purpose did it serve?
He was hardly the most effective soldier – he was in and out of the pits and the infirmary so much that he barely had time to train.
So what was Manticore planning? To what end was this means?
He was young but he was far from stupid and 563 knew with a gut deep certainty that whatever Manticore was trying to do here…no good would come of it.
October 2003
"On your feet, soldier." 563 obeyed the command automatically, mindlessly. Covered in dirt head to toe, shaking from hunger and exhaustion, he maintained his pose even as the door opened and other X5's came filing in.
They were all in the same condition as him, more or less – dirty, tired, and shell-shocked. It was with a start that he realized both 256 and 374 were among them.
He was curious now – obviously Manticore had taken all of the soldiers from the pits and brought them here – so what was going on?
"You have been selected for a special training program," the trainer at the front droned, eyes cold and unforgiving as he surveyed them carelessly. "From this moment on you have all been reassigned into this unit together. You will have no CO and no chain of command – you are all equals here. Do you understand what that means?"
"Yes, Sir!" 563 wasn't the only one who yelled his reply – even the most dim witted X5 knew that when the Trainer asked you a question like this, there was really only one logical response – but he was fairly certain he was one of the few who understood the implications.
No chain of command meant no authority and he could feel himself panicking slightly. With no one in charge, how were they going to know what to do? He'd been conditioned from the time he was one to obey orders and follow protocol but here, now, there didn't seem to be any of that.
"Fall in," came the barked order and 563 quickly fell in place, but there was a confused scramble as the X5's around him struggled to find their positions in line. 374 and 256 slid wordlessly in line behind him, but the rest of them…
January 2004
563 hit the dirt and lay there, barely breathing as he waited for the order to get back to his feet.
He'd figured this was the purpose of their training – to give them orders they would blindly follow, but even he found this a little ridiculous. After falling down he was supposed to stay in his position until he was given permission to rise back up.
In a real battle, he'd be dead by now.
"On your feet, 563," was all he got five minutes after he hit the dirt. He didn't bother to brush away the grime – partially because he hadn't been given an order to do so and partially because it didn't matter. They'd removed them completely from the barracks now and 563 spent almost all of his nights either in one of the basement cells or back in the pits.
He'd spent so long in the dark he was actually starting to find it rather comforting. The dark, he'd learned, hid nothing – had nothing. There was no pain, no restlessness, no confusion – nothing that came with the daylight and the increasingly bizarre series of orders they were expected to follow.
He slid back into his place in line between 374 and 256, keeping his blank gaze forward as another X5, 888, was called forward to demonstrate the move once again, as if they hadn't picked up on it the first time.
Next to him 256 shifted with restless energy and he could feel 374 reaching around him to sooth the other male.
So far their training had mostly consisted of stupid orders and an increasingly literal definition of the term 'blind obedience', but there was something in the air, a spectre of sorts, that was almost taunting them.
As faint as his memories of his first night in the pit were, he could remember this feeling right before he'd fallen in – completely and utter despair.
He knew some of the other X5's in this group thought this was it – they were all smart, all genius's as a matter of fact – so even the most dimwitted among them had figured out exactly what Manticore wanted from them months ago.
It was just…
563 knew what they had wanted then but he had no idea what they wanted next, a thought which alarmed him deeply.
February 2004
He was choking on his own blood, staring in horrified fascination at the stick protruding from his stomach. Vaguely, almost like it was coming from some far away place, he heard a keening wail that kept echoing in his skull.
Over and over it screamed at him to get up, to keep moving, to fight – goddamnit!
Fight? He licked his cracked lips, barely wincing as the gesture re-opened wounds he'd forgotten he had, his eyes trying to focus on that screaming voice.
It was like coming out off of a concussion in reverse – instead of two becoming one, one became two and he blinked as the figures struggled to differentiate one from another in his field of perception.
374, his mind identified the female easily enough, tripping for a moment before recognizing the male. 256.
But what was 256 doing here? Wasn't he supposed to be with the second team on the other side of the base?
He opened his mouth to ask that question only to choke – literally choke – on his words, bringing about a hacking cough that left blood specklings on both of the other X5's.
"Keep moving!" 256 ordered, practically yelled at him and he found himself waking up just a little bit at the near hysterical plea contained within those two words.
He was starting to worry now – about the blood, about the branch in his chest, about the way 374 was struggling not only with 256's weight, but with his own as well.
Am I dying?
It was strange – strange, strange, strange.
He almost wanted to laugh, but another explosion, faintly in the distance, had him stumbling and it was with a pained cry that 374 regained balance for all of them before grimly pressing onward.
"Wha' happe'd?" He managed to slur out, the pain catching up leaving him sweating and bleeding and wheezing all at the same time.
"You were stabbed," 374 bit out in reply, sounding absolutely wrathful. "By another X5."
"Who?" He knew the designations of all the X5's in their squad – thirty-eight in total, an unprecidently large amount for a unit. There were some that bore watching – in a group that large, there was always at least two – the main dunce and his or her sidekick – but he'd never entertained the idea that any of them were do something like this.
"I don't know," came the terse reply. "They're not ours."
"Not ours," 563 repeated the words through half-numb lips, his mind struggling in circles to wrap a loop around this particular thought and why it was so important, but suddenly his entire body felt like lead had been poured into his bones and he was so tired…
"Stay awake!" 374 was screeching at him when he blinked and five minutes passed. "I mean it, 563! You stay the hell awake!"
That sort of desperation sounded strange to 563 – strange because it was 374 and strange because he'd heard the trainers yell this desperate sort of plea on a couple of occasions but they'd never struck the chord that 374 had struck in him. It was a gut deep reaction that had his eyes opening wide, focusing on her face, watching her desperation turn to grim determination.
"Right, come on," she instructed, looking over her shoulder to where 256 was propped against a tree as she struggled with all her might to get 563 back on his feet, his weak attempts at helping her barely doing just that. "We've got a half a click to the rally point and snipers in the trees."
A bullet pinged in the bark next to 256's head and it was a testament to how exhausting and mind-numbingly terrifying his day had already been that he barely even flinched as the slivers dug their way into the side of his face.
"Let's move!"
Sixteen dead.
563 stared up at the ceiling of the infirmary, his mind struggling to grasp this concept.
Sixteen dead.
Sixteen people he was never going to see again.
Even without painkillers he was numb.
There was no explanation for the events and no remorse – he didn't really understand why he expected something so basic from the coldest people he'd ever met, but a reaction would have been the least of it.
Instead he'd been woken up, informed of the loss along with the eleven others occupying the infirmary.
Their instructions had been simple after that: two days in recovery before returning to training regardless of their conditions, some of which were approaching near epically bad conditions.
563's wound was healing slowly enough that a doctor had wandered in a few hours ago, injecting him with something that made his skin itch badly enough for them to use the restraints.
He gritted his teeth against the burning pain and refocused his attention on the X5's on either side of him.
256 was awake, aware, and completely quiet as he stared at the ceiling, feeling the weight of 563's gaze and quickly turning to look at him.
"Who?" was 563's simply question.
"004," 256 answered without hesitation, voice devoid of emotion even as his insides clenched as the memory of the petite X5's body coming apart after stepping on a land mine replayed over in his head.
"308 and 321," another X5, 607, stated simply, eyes steady as they stared at 563. "Snipers."
Goddamn fucking snipers. 563 could recall in vivid detail the bullet that had scooped past him, sending him tumbling downwards even as he heard the sickening sound of flesh rending as 256 tumbled down after him.
His gaze strayed back over to 256 but the other X5 has his attention firmly fixated elsewhere, unwilling to share his recollection of the memory.
"844 and 542 were…" 508 trailed off, swallowing thickly as he hastily turned his attention to the wall, unwilling to add to the tears already dried on his skin.
They ran down the list, each account ending with the trailing off of a sentence or the harsh, gut churning reality of something gone wrong. In the end there were only a few who had escaped with injuries minor enough to have already been released from medical.
374 was among them and sitting in bed, 563 hated the belts lashing him to the bed even more for keeping him away from her, leaving her to deal with this nightmare on his own.
Heart racing and breath threatening to whimper out of his chest, it took everything he had to keep from screaming as he turned and locked his gaze on 256.
There was a mutual agreement in that gaze, a determination that no matter what, no matter how, they'd fucking survive this bitch because that was the only fucking way they'd be strong enough to make them pay.
June, 2005
"Fucking useless." The kick was fully expected and fully impacted, sending 921 skittering back towards the wall. Nobody in line flinched as his head hit with a sickening crack, not even 921.
A now intimately familiar angry gaze bore down on all of them from above and 563 didn't have to turn to know that Director Martinez was watching.
This was his fucking brainchild and if he had planned it he couldn't have fucked it up more.
"Useless," the sentiment was echoed by Lydecker as he surveyed the sorry mess in front of him.
The idea had been great in theory but in practice…
Lydecker was smart, approaching genius, but you only needed half a brain to determine that the whole idea was going to go AWOL the second Martinez had executed it.
The conditions of depravity the twenty-two kids in front of him had been put through had all been for a greater purpose, a noble ideal gone horror-film perfect in the wake of Martinez's monumental mismanagement.
A full compliment of soldiers, an entire squad perfectly obedient to Manticore's core regime – they were suppose to be the overseers, the soldier's soldier – the shock troops sent in if another facility ever went awry – case and point being the fuckery in Seattle with Shepherd.
Problem was these kids had taken to the training too literally.
They didn't do anything without an order – not even taking a shit. And if somebody hit them they went down and stayed down if nobody told them to get back up.
Lydecker sorely wanted to say that the kids were fucking with them – that they'd figured out the purpose of their training and turned it around on their masters, but one glance kept him from making the statement.
These kids were straight up fucked – their eyes were dead, their bodies beat. They were walking zombies, barely functioning on par with anything human let alone something as great as an X5.
Martinez was coiled tighter than a snake next to him because he already knew what Lydecker was going to say.
"Pull the plug," was the gruff order. "Send them back to Psy-Ops for reindoctrination and then reintegrate them with the regular units."
Martinez said nothing and Lydecker turned on him in an instant, eyes flashing ominously in warning.
"Do you understand me, soldier?" It was low and degrading referring to the director of another a facility – a man almost equal to him in rank – as a lowly grunt, but the point was there between them: Lydecker had the power and control and in the wake of Shepherd, Martinez, even operating with half a brain, knew better than to challenge it.
"Yes," he stated, purposely leaving off the sir both as an insult and a not-so-subtle reminder that while Brass seem to favor Lydecker, they still held equitable rank and like fuck was Martinez rolling over for him.
Lydecker smiled grimly but let it pass, turning his attention back to the yard below and wincing as yet another X5 went crashing down and remained inert until an exasperated Trainer finally ordered him back to his feet.
Dumb stupid fuck, Lydecker thought to himself not for the first time as he headed for the exited, eager to return to his facility and get away from this slop heap.
Behind him, Martinez studied the squad below him, trembling with barely suppressed rage as he contemplated the disaster below him – a shitstorm piled directly on his head.
Reaching for the phone on the desk next to him, he punched in a long-ago memorized number, waiting for the clicking and entering his code before somebody picked up on the other end of the line.
"It's me," he stated simply. "We need to talk."
563 woke up in the back of a van, barely secured upright. Next to him 607 was unconscious and across from him 439 was grim faced as she stared directly at him.
He made no effort to ask her what was going on and she made no effort to try and tell him, both of them instead exchanging one glance before letting their gazes stay in opposite directions.
After about five minutes 607 let out a low moan and slowly managed to open his eyes. 563 watched him take in the situation with a blank face before straightening upright and copying his counterparts.
Mentally 563 started keeping track of the twists and turns of the road, his curiousity – long dormant – idly roused as they went from pavement to rough road. He'd been in his fair share of trucks moving from one end of the training grounds to the other, but he'd never been on this particular road.
After about fifteen minutes of rough travel the vehicle started to slow before coming to a jarring stop. 563 waited as the engine turned off, eyes fixated on the canopy just beyond 439's head as he heard a door open and boots hit the ground, crunching stones and leaves underneath as they approached the back.
"Alright," an unfamiliar face poked his way into the back, expression empty as he took them in. "On your feet and follow me."
Wordlessly and without thought, the three of them obeyed.
September, 2005
563 didn't know where he was. He didn't know the X5's on either side of him, didn't recognize any of the doctors hovering over him.
"There was an accident in one of the chem labs," a tech explained unnecessarily to them, expression almost bored as he went over their charts. "You've all had a reaction."
Other than general fuzziness 563 felt fine. Confused – naturally – but physically fit.
He didn't like it.
Next to him another X5 shifted, drawing his attention and eliciting another faint bout of puzzlement even as his expression remained perfectly blank. He wasn't sure why, but he knew that he couldn't let them see his emotions, couldn't even hint that he had them. It was an instinct integrated into the very fiber of his been.
The recognition was something else. He stared at the X5 next to him carefully, trying and failing time after time to recall where they'd met before and even his designation. The other X5's was just as blank-faced as him, but somehow 563 could tell he was trying – and failing – to do the same.
The female just beyond the other X5 shifted again, drawing both of their gazes once more as her eyes fluttered open and she turned, almost instinctively, to face them.
563 knew her – he recognized her almost viscerally – but inside his mind there was nothing – no designation, no memories, just blank empty space.
Something was horribly wrong.
A/N: This was major major foreshadowing, as in you probably won't get answers for the where 563 went until One, the title for the final stories in the series - about a hundred and something or more chapters away...if I ever get that far.
Any-ways: what did you think? Since this is the first in the series without any recognizable canon characters I had a bit of a hard time writing it so I'd really appreciate knowing whether or not it fits with the other two stories.
