I do not own Maximum Ride or its characters. They belong to James Patterson.
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I heard the two coat-wearers talking around me. One is a male, the other is a female. Apparently, they still don't know I have learned to talk. No caution on their part. From all the words used around me, I learned what things were called, and what others meant. Some things I learned the hard way, which happened often. My life was hard.
"A few more tests and we'll soon know the outcome." The deep tone told me he was the male.
"I don't know, will it work? The targets are extremely capable of tossing aside everything we've thrown at them." From her voice, it is obvious she is the female. And with that, they left the room, the sound of their conversation joined by the clip clop of shoes against the white tile.
I don't know my name. Most kids do, but I have the misfortune to only know one thing. I am called "The Experiment." Yes, that's right. I'm a scientific experiment. Where I am, I don't know. A lab somewhere. As far as I know, this lab is the entire world. But I know I can escape this world. From careful watching and listening, I have found a way to get out of this place.
I didn't care to look at the people through the steel cage door. Most of the time, I spend my time in a small box. Not exactly sure what it is, but it looks like it is made for something smaller than I am. In this cramped space I can't stretch out fully, so I have a habit of curling my legs in front of me and resting my arms in between the space between my legs and chest.
Sitting in this position, I can't see anything, but I don't care since I already know what is outside of this dark small crate. White tile floor, white sterile counters, white walls, and some shiny metal carts. On the carts are boxes of needles and things. So, knowing there is nothing to see out there, I stare at the scraggly pair of jeans that the coat-wearers gave me. All I do is sit here, and linger in the scent of antiseptic and the sound of people coming and going.
I'm not sure how old I am. I've been here a long time. From since I can remember, I have been living here. In a box the whole time, which was made bigger whenever I got too big for it. When I was taken out of the box, it was for one reason only. Pain. I grew to accept that pain was going to be with me all throughout my life. Tests and needles and exhaustion and more pain. It seemed like the coat-wearers were devising all these things just figure out one thing. If I can destroy the targets.
I don't know what the targets are, but I've heard them being spoken about along with me, in ways I have discovered are not very nice. I am supposed to be an "upgrade" of the targets. Better. Stronger. Faster. Anything somebody can think of, I was better than them. Except one thing was different. They had a "they." I only had an "I." I was made to destroy multiple things. And I didn't like it. If I ever got out of here, I would strive to be the opposite of these people.
Somebody entered the room, and bent down to unlock the door to my box. Once it was open, I got out. No use struggling, I would only get sedated. He led me to one of my favorite rooms. Not because of what I had to do in it, but because of what it did. The room was full of robots. Wolf people, with guns attached to their right hands. The door closed behind me, and soon the robots sluggishly came alive.