2 λ
This is a rewrite of the fic I released previously, but that's not a call to hit the back button! :O I believe that it's much more enjoyable to read now, I tried to add a little humour, and I've changed the POV to a more conventional one.
This is my first(-ish) fic, so reviews are greatly appreciated, and I'd love to hear suggestions/criticisms. Or any acknowledgement that you've read it at all c:
Thank you, Please Enjoy!
Turtles ~
Chapter 1λ
Adrian #J-9142117 watches the forest dissolve into the suburban outskirts, as the train lurches towards City 17. Now the tip of the Citadel's visible over the tops of the colourful Eastern European buildings, or what's left of them. He glances nervously around the compartment, checking the other passengers' reactions. Furthest to his right, a couple sit close for protection. Nearer, another man with his suitcase lying across his knees. To Adrian's left, a woman with her face in her hands, sobbing gently.
Adrian fiddles with the straps on his suitcase, with the buttons on his standard blue shirt. A few minutes later, the train grinds to a halt. He takes a moment to calm his nerves, grabs his case and steps down from the train.
The first thing he sees is the giant screen, as if anyone could miss it. A smug Dr Breen welcomes everyone to City 17. As he showers praise upon the city and its Benefactors, Adrian travels around the front of the train, pausing to look around. To his right is a chain-link fence, behind it, a vortigaunt sweeping up trash under the watchful eye of a member of the Civil Protection. To the left, a luggage trolley and turnstile. Someone there is rummaging through the luggage trolley, and from the purposeful way another CP's striding towards him, Adrian's glad he decided to travel light.
"Were you the only ones on that train?" A woman asks as he passes through the turnstile. They hear a shout and turn back in time to see the luggage rack man pushed into the carefully stacked suitcases. But now more people are lining up to pass through the turnstile, the ones from your carriage and others from the same train. The new widow's voice fades out as Adrian turns into a wide, dim corridor lined with trash and a payphone, the cord cut. On the other end of the dark passage is a waiting area, with tables and benches.
As he enters, an old man dumps an empty Chinese takeaway carton and looks up at Adrian. "Don't drink the water!" He hisses, catching Adrian off guard. He only manages to mumble incoherently and back away, until he almost walks into another man who's pacing in front of the arrival and departure times' screens. This man's mumbling to himself, in Adrian's experience, never a good sign, so he moves away.
"Welcome to City 17." Breen repeats. "It's safer here."
Adrian grunts, making his way towards the passage between the fences set up in a winding queue. At the other end is yet another gate, leading to a small area sectioned off with more fences. It's heavily guarded, for such a tiny area, with four CPs. There's two people waiting before him; they step into the area and Adrian follows. The second turns a sharp left, and the first walks straight forward, through another gate and up a set of stairs. The gate is slammed closed as Adrian approaches; he hesitates, then turns left.
There's another gate, and yet another a few feet behind. The civilian walks through both gates without missing a beat, but as soon as he's passed, the gates slide closed and a CP on the other side of the chain-link fence positions itself in behind it. It's holding a pistol at waist height, instead of the usual stun-stick, and he watches Adrian warily. An alarm blares momentarily and Adrian looks up, there's a sign above the gate. It reads Nova Prospekt.
He takes a horrified step back. To his right, a door that he hadn't even noticed before swings open. A CP is standing in the doorway. "GET IN HERE." The hideous metallic voice crackles.
"Me?" Adrian asks, noticing a small plaque beside the door. It reads SECURITY in bold little letters. "Where are you taking me?"
"COME ON!" The CP barks, raising its stun-stick. Suitcase banging into his knee, Adrian reluctantly steps past the CP, and through the entry. On the other side of the security door is a long, narrow passage, the little more than the width of the doorframe. He notices another small door on the opposite side before the CP shuts the one behind them; the corridor is thrown into darkness. Adrian hears the grating of a door being unlocked and pushed open before the CP grabs a fistful of his standard blue shirt and pushes him through a doorway to the left. Then, it's locked again.
He glances around the room, realising that the Combine's definition of security differs a little from his own. Jutting out of the wall around the middle of the room is a long metal desk. Beyond the table is a console, a few filing cabinets and a couple of security cameras mounted on the wall. The half of the room he's standing in, however, gives him more cause for concern.
On the wall to his immediate left is a set of horizontal lines and measurements, the kind Pre-Combine police would have you stand in front of to take your picture for their records. And just in front of him is a red padded chair, reminiscent of the type in dentists' offices or hair-salons, except for the small matter of the manacles attached to the arm rests. Also, unless your barber happened to be very clumsy with those scissors, neither would you expect to see the whole thing drenched in blood. It had splattered the cushions and arm-rests, rolled down to the foot supports and pooled on the floor. The stains are dry, but not the kind of dry that says, 'Oh, that old thing, we don't use it anymore'. It was the kind of dry that adds a cheery '-that much, anyway' on the end.
A loud metallic clang has Adrian whirling around to see a CP step into the room, once again locking the door behind itself. The CP wrestles the little case from Adrian's grip and flings it onto the desk. It politely asks Adrian to sit down, and then politely shoves him backwards when he hesitates. The not-a-barber-chair breaks his fall.
"This must be a mistake!" He declares. Over the CP's shoulder, he notices someone moving about through the little slit window in the door. "I got a standard relocation coupon just like everybody else!" The CP notices the movement also, and the last thing Adrian sees is a huge pair of wide-rimmed spectacles before the window is slid closed.
The CP then appears to lose interest in Adrian, and strides over to the console, where it begins to type something. It takes its time and Adrian begins to get fidgety. Escape is out of the question, of course, and his mind starts to wander over his future, and approximately how long it'll last. He realises that the CP is probably making him wait on purpose, some kind of mental pre-torture torture. He tries to think of the CP in its underwear, which used to be a kind of fix-all for uncomfortable situations in the time before. Unfortunately it doesn't work this time.
Adrian almost sighs in relief when the CP finally turns around, but it's short-lived; it reaches behind the desk and pulls out a large and rather rusted toolbox. It steps around the table, so that it has its back to him, and hefts the heavy case onto the desk. Then it makes a show of unlatching it and spreading the tools out onto the table-top, holding the occasional instrument up to the light for closer inspection.
The little glimpses are enough to set his mind racing. He thinks of teeth pulled out, or fingernails, and needles and blades. Of chemical burns and fire and broken bones-- He tries to snap out of the spiral; It's just another show! More psychological torture! He reminds himself, but the images are impossible to block out when his feet keep slipping off the bloody footrest. In any other situation, the pun might even have been amusing.
And finally, it turns around for good, casually twirling something resembling a stainless steel nutcracker from the time before; Adrian unconsciously rubs his finger-joints. "CITIZEN--" The CP begins.
Comments λ
Who is the mysterious Adrian? What is the CP planning? How will our hero get out of this deadly dilemma? Find out next time-- Same lambda time, same lambda place!
Comments λ Proper |D
Hope you enjoyed reading this chapter (or re-reading it, if that's the circumstance, thanks for the second chance ;D). I recognise that there wasn't much action in this chapter, shame on me, but it'll pick up in the next, I promise :I
PS. CPs speak in CAPS because I thought it looks more robotic/emotionless, and from now on they're all 'it's because there'd be too many 'he's in that scene otherwise :|