-----2
Was he dead? No... If he was dead, he would not still feel his mind, which was throbbing in sheer agony. Philip willed his eyed to open, but the pain was just too much.
"Ah, finally awake, scum?" A voice blurted out, ringing in his already-ringing ears. Philip groaned in reply, followed by a cough. There was some kind of medicine in his mouth. Some other force forces Philip to swallow the bitter taste.
Another voice came on. It was soft and gentle, the exact opposite of the first voice. The second voice was pretty easy to identify as a nurse trained to help people calm down before some operation of some kind.
"Aspirin applied. Estimated time for effect: two minutes. Painkillers administered to right femur region. bandaging applied to left shoulder. Please keep still."
"He won't be going anywhere. Let me know when I can have his full attention."
"Affirmative, Captain,"
Philip heard footsteps, then a hydraulic-powered door opening and closing.
"Ugh... What's happening?" Philip wheezed, trying to see if there was still someone who was still there.
"Please remain calm. Wait until the pain ceases."
Philip did. Two minutes later, his eyes could open normally. He seemed to be in a hospital of some sort. Where exactly, he didn't know.
"Status: Nominal. Please wait while I hail the Captain," said the voice again. As it moved toward the door, Philip could see it perfectly.
Who... or what it was, it as definitely not human. Not even organic. It was a robot.
A robot dressed as a nurse. Definitely not appealing to someone who was not a technophile. To Philip, he suddenly wished it was a human... The reason he wished the nurse was a human was that the so-called "captain" that entered was also a robot.
"Ah, the meat-bag has finally awaken," it said in the evil-ridden voice.
"How long has it been?" Philip was about to ask, but then he was back-hand slapped by the Captain.
"You're now officially property of the Cluster. Either you smarten up and don't ask questions or we're going to do worse than you've ever imagined."
Philip was intimidated easily. The Cluster? Was he at their home world? or was this just a base? No, it couldn't be just a base. Otherwise that Jenny Wakeman would have already busted it to ribbons. Speaking of whom, where the hell was she? Where were Philip's friends?
Before he could think further on the matter, he was released from the hospital bed. He then managed to get a real good look around. It was nearing sunset, according to the window to his left. The sky was orange-red, turning the buildings outside into dark silhouettes. It was generally a hospital room with a bed used mainly for robotic maintenance. The fact that there was no cushioning suddenly came to Philip, and his whole body started to noticeably cramp; mainly the areas where he was strapped down to the table in the first place.
The Captain grabbed Philip by his good shoulder and threw him toward the door.
"Careful. Repeated abuse will result in fatal trauma." the nurse said.
The Captain seemed disappointed at the report, but seemed to understand for reasons unknown "Very well, we'll need this one alive anyways. Hurry and move it, flesh-sack."
The painkillers applied to Philip's leg seemed to be minimal, but at least the pain itself when he walked was not as severe as it could have been. The Captain occasionally prodded Phillip in places where it hurt like the dickens, telling him to hurry up or pick up the pace afterward.
The walk was long and painful. Even the painkillers started to wear off by the time they finally arrived somewhere. Before Philip could stop and look around, the Captain threw Philip through an open door and slammed it shut.
"New arrival..." a weak, human-sounding voice echoed through the dark room. Philip got up and leaned back into a wall. The room was dark, but it was possible to see what was within the room.
There were other humans. None that Philip could recognize. Some looked like they were here for a long time. A few wore some kind of camouflage outfit. Then Philip realized: they were some of the other Paintball team.
"Do any of you know what happened?" Philip asked one of the camo-donned humans.
"You must be from the Paintball Arena," the closest one said.
"Yeah," Philip replied.
"We don't know what happened. We saw the first laser punch down a few meters ahead of us, and when we looked up, we saw a few ships fly down and bombard the place. I saw some insect-like robots kidnap some of our own. I blacked out, and I guess I ended up here. Looks like you got beaten up really bad. You got blood all over your leg and shoulder."
"Huh, Never noticed, I guess that robot was prodding me so much I didn't notice..."
"Wait, you can't even feel it? Do you realize how much there is on you?"
"How much?"
"I'm surprised you're not dead. Your entire leg and half your torso is covered in it.
Philip examined himself, and the guy was right. Philip was missing his shirt and hoody, leaving his sweatpants. His right leg and left torso area were covered in blood. In the sources of both, there was heavy bandaging, which was thick enough that there were no visible stains underneath. His whole left arm was covered in bandages for some reason.
"So... What's going to happen now?" Philip asked.
"What else? We're just going to be slaves to these barbaric robots..." said a war veteran with a chin that never met a razor in years. The coat he wore was torn, but still donned a set of dented campaign medals.
"What? Slaves?" Philip couldn't believe it. He heard the stories, but he never actually thought they were this hell-bent on using the humans for their own greedy ways; especially ones that never held a grudge against them all his life.
"That's right. We're going to be their power source for making damned ice cream. It's practically all they eat, and they use us to power the machines used to make the ice cream. They also make us mine materials for use in the hospitals or whatever company that sells robotic bits and pieces to their comrades."
"What is it that we did anyway that made them do this?" Philip asked.
"Who the hell knows? My guess is a grudge since World War R," the War vet replied. He then scooted his way toward Philip and the paintball opponent. "Name's Hender," he said, extending a still strong-looking hand.
"Philip," he replied, hesitating, but gripping the hand. Despite the terrible situation, it felt warm.
"Johann," the paintball guy replied, then pointing to the other two camo-donned humans. "That's Pete and that's Gerald." he said, pointing to one wearing glasses and then to one with bandaging over his right eye.
"Is there anyone else?" Philip inquired.
"They're all at the mine or one of the many shops. They were going to bring me back to the slave quarters, but they stopped off to pick up you guys. I guess you guys should be thankful; not starting the hour you arrive," Hender replied.
The dark room started to rumble. It then turned out that they were in a truck of some kind. Philip stood up and looked out the tiny window still present in the door.
Cluster Prime looked to be a beautiful place; what with the skyscrapers made entirely out of metal and tough, shatter-proof glass. Mechanized trees and wildlife roamed every sidewalk and park that was passed. It seemed all peaceful, which added to its loveliness. It didn't look that good when assorted robots passing by gave the truck a dirty look. No, it wasn't the truck, it was toward the humans inside it. They could tell if there were humans inside the truck, easily.
Soon, they passed a very high, steel-plated wall. Gates shutting after the truck was through. The incredible sight of the city vanished behind the gates.
It was official: Philip is now a slave to these bolt-bag bastards...
After another minute of random movement throughout the isolating stronghold walls, the vehicle stopped. All of the prisoners felt a slight jolt, much like on en elevator when it starts to go down. Except this time it jolted downwards for a meter, sending everyone up in the air. Except for Hender, who knew when to take a good hold on the floor, and was otherwise unharmed.
"You'll get used to it..." Hender muttered, Johann, Pete and Gerald all sat up again and nursed their aching rear ends. Philip fell on his non-bandaged arm, but it didn't break.
The door on the far end swung open, filling the entire vehicle interior with dull, orange light. All of them (save for Philip) had to cover their eyes, as they've (save for Philip) been in darkness for quite a while. At the door stood another insect robot. It looked different from the Captain Philip saw earlier, but it seemed to be the same rank.
"Up and at 'em, scum!" it bellowed. Hender got up immediately, since he seemed to be used to the whole ordeal. The others soon got the hint and got up as well. They were all in a line. Pete and Gerald were behind Hender, with Philip and Johann behind them. The other captain pointed towards the left turn out of the vehicle door. They all obeyed and moved at a stable pace out and to their left. The captain prodded Johann into Philip, it haltered them a bit, but they didn't lose their pace altogether, lest they give the bug a "legitimate" reason to beat them with his strange-looking nightstick that he kept strapped on his thigh.
Hender was let off early in his own cell, which was relatively empty, save for a few cots and a concealed area where a toilet most likely was. Gerald and Johann were let off next, in a cell that contained generally the same thing, except one extra cot. There were two sleeping humans in that cell.
Philip was shoved in the one adjacent from the one where Johann and Gerald were sent in, After the door closed, Philip wouldn't be able to find out where Pete would end up.
There was literally no one in the cell, and Philip needed to take a leak. He moved quickly to the concealed area and relieved himself from the contents of his large intestines. Within a minute, there was no strain on Philip's body whatsoever. He pulled up his pants and left the concealed area. Despite the fact that the toilet was just a hole in an appendage out of the farthest wall from the exit, it worked, and considering the events, that's what Philip cared about.
He sat down in the cot that looked the least used. After five minutes of sitting and looking at the cell, Philip was getting the feeling that the cell was completely vacant. All the beds looked the same: unused. Assuming that the cell had no other inhabitants save for Philip, why did the guard send Pete onward?
It was a question that lacked sense. The only reason would be to isolate Philip as a way to mentally and emotionally damage him... But why him of all people?
Philip scratched his head with his blood-stained, un-bandaged right hand. There was no feeling of pain, and it continued to feel warm ever since shaking Hender's hand back on the vehicle. There were cuts and bruises everywhere, but they looked like perfect skin compared to Philip's heavily-bandaged left leg. He knew by common sense that his leg would be fine, as a missing leg would make him a less efficient slave, especially considering what Hender told him what they'd all be doing for these robotic tyrants.
There were nine cots. Philip was sitting on one in the far right corner, trying to be as far away from the door as possible. He was afraid of the guard returning to give him a beating just for the laughs.
The guard never came into the door as he passed by another five minutes later. A small hatch slid open under a hydraulic system and a bowl of slop of some kind flew into the door. There wasn't even a spoon stuck in it, but upon close examination, it turns out there used to be a spoon in it, but was apparently lost on the way to the cell. Lack of responsibility or care resulted in the lack of utensil. Philip didn't care. It seemed like hours since an actual meal.
It tasted good, strangely enough. It turned out that it was well-cooked chicken with too much gravy. Philip never liked gravy, despite its decent taste. It was something one would eat, but not in a huge abundance of; like too much oyster sauce on a bowl of freshly-cooked noodles.
The chicken had no taste and there was no salt. All that kept it together was the huge amount of gravy. Philip knew he couldn't eat it all because of the strange attribute of gravy, and he also knew that if he decided to wait until he could eat it again without puking, it would be cold, bland, and all-in-all disgusting.
He ate as much as he could, and then decided to experiment how long it will be before the over-taste of gravy would vanish. He knew it would end in dissatisfaction, but he wanted to do it just to pass time. It was disturbingly boring while in the cell. Philip felt the small pond of gravy and found it to be colder than the dry blood on his pants. Philip stuck his finger in his mouth to test the gravy. Disgusting... he thought... He then wiped the saliva off of his shirt and dumped the rest of the crap into the toilet, watching the stuff sink slowly into the dark waters of who-knows-what.
He placed the bowl on a spot right at the door, where there were markings on the cold metal floor indicating that all food bowls should be there when finished with. Philip then sat on his cot and instantly fell asleep while sitting up.
He awoke lying down, apparently his muscles gave in and dropped his head on where the pillow would have been. The cots only consisted of a gray mattress on a metal frame dug into the wall. Whatever the metal was, it was durable. Even a large person could jump on it without it buckling even the slightest.
Even then, it just had that feel to it that indicated that it might break any second. It probably resulted in Philip's fears of falling, which ultimately contrasted into acrophobia. It was more his lack of trust for what he's standing on that happens to be high above good, solid ground.
He didn't know what time it was, but the sleep was good. He didn't know why he woke up until he heard the large metal door emitting a clanging sound across the room and back again.
"Are you awake, meat bag?" another robotic insect yelled into the cell. He was looking in the cell, and could see Philip get up, but he obviously wanted the human to answer anyways.
"Yes," Philip replied.
"Yes... what?" the robot guard rudely snapped back.
"Yes, I am awake," Philip said, trying not to sound as annoyed as possible, lest to avoid a beating.
"Your five hours of rest is over. Is that leg good?"
Philip completely forgot about his leg when he was brought to his cell. Upon thinking about it, the pain became noticeable. Philip tried to stand, but the remembrance made it ache from the fact that he interrupted its natural healing process.
"I guess not. Orders are orders, however, so I'll leave you in there. Otherwise I'd be having my way with you two minutes ago because you wouldn't wake up." the bug yelled before storming off to pester other human prisoners.
Philip felt guilty. Chances are, the guard was waking people up just to get them out of their cells and to bring them to where they went to work. He's the only one that literally can't function properly at the time being. Everyone else, however, could.
Philip tried to sleep again, but it wasn't as instant. Two minutes after he couldn't hear the rude guard's yelling and the footsteps of other guards escorting human slaves, sleep was easier to achieve. He didn't have any dreams.