Note: I'm not quite sure if this counts as AU or not, but the presence of the character will have an impact on the events of the show, so we'll go ahead and call it AU just to save time.
Please, review and comment (it helps me know to write more of this). I own absolutely nothing relating to Battlestar Galactica.
Number Seven
Chapter 1
He woke up. It was cold. He could see frosted glass in front of him. He was in a tube of some sort.
He couldn't breathe. He needed to get out.
He raised a hand, curled it into a fist, and slammed it against the glass in front of him.
It cracked, and the frost started clearing.
He hit the glass again, and the cracks spread further, going deeper.
He could just barely see himself now, in the cracked glass. He looked…
Terror drove him to hit harder than he had before, shattering the glass wholesale.
He tumbled through the opening in the tube, and fell to the floor.
He tried to cough, but he found he couldn't. He could draw in air, but it felt wrong. Like something else was doing it for him.
His vision was strange. Everything was tinted in odd, shifting colors, and little circles kept appearing as he looked around. He hadn't noticed that before.
He looked down at his hands.
"Oh, God. No." He whispered to himself.
They weren't human. They were made of a mix of metal and some sort of black weave of little hexagons, that looked like a kind of fabric or dry foam.
He looked at his arms. Metal plates covered the front of his forearms. The rest was of the same weave foam material as his hands. The circles kept popping up as he examined himself.
"God, please. No." He whispered again.
His voice. It sounded hoarse, dry. Artificial. Like it was being sent through a helmet or comm and breath mask at the same time. His voice wasn't his.
He stood, feeling unnatural power in his body. He looked down and saw that his body was made of more of the same winding connected pieces of the black weave foam, supplemented by metal at a few spots. Around the areas where muscles would be separated. His kneecaps. His feet were pure metal, not an bit of the weave.
He picked up a shard of the glass from the tube he'd been in. He looked at his reflection again.
He didn't see his face.
He saw a helmet, with eyes surrounded by rotating, retracting lenses, and mouthpiece like an cross between an emitter on an radio and a gas mask.
"NO!" He screamed.
Endnote: When picturing this character, just google "The Prototype" and just transplant the image of that robot from the yet-to-be-released sci-fi flick. Cause that's what I thought of when I came up with this
