The Retaliation of Seven 8
Author Note: Hey, guys. :) If you'd all be soooo amazing to review my other work if you haven't already, it'd meant a lot me. You see, this story has only seven, (well, now eight,) chapters, and it has 42 reviews. That's pretty amazing for someone like me, you know? So if you'd all support my other stuff, I would be a very happy girl. I hope that's not too much to ask along with the usual request that you all review this chapter! :)
Five's P. O. V.
When I wake up again, my ankles are secured to the legs of the chair and my wrists are bound behind my back by handcuffs. I keep my eyes closed for the time being, shifting slowly to the edge of my chair and peering out through my sticky eyelashes. The chair is trembling and bumping, proving we're in a moving container, and the shadows I can hardly make out prove I'm not alone in this situation.
"She moved," the voice of the man with a crooked nose speaks out.
Something grabs my chin seconds later, forcing my head up and my eyes to snap open. A woman smirks down at me, obviously satisfied with the results of her actions while stepping back. She's got something sleek in her hand she presses to my eye, filling it with green lights that begins to swirl; My stomach lurches like this container turning.
"You're a Mogodorian," I growl out against my better judgement. "I swear I'll rip your throat out, you little piece of shit."
"Oh, calm down." She merely rolls her eyes. "I'm not a Mogodorian, I am part of your government."
"Then how the hell did you get this nice weapon?" I spit back.
"That is none of you concern." Something sharp presses into my shoulder, clouding my vision over instantly as she lowers the gun. "Don't worry, you shouldn't wake up through most of our procedures."
"Pro...procedures...?" my voice is already slurring, igniting my anger instantly, "where the hell are you taking us?"
She seems to consider whether or not to tell me, but she apparently decides against it as my head drops again on it's own. Determined to fight whatever they injected in me, I begin working on the double-set of handcuffs that bound me with and snap the ropes that constrain my ankles. Of course she notices and reaims the gun, but she's too slow; I kick up as accurately as I can in my numbing senses and manage to knock it away.
"Grab her!" she barks to whoever else in in this vehicle.
"Emily!" Michele's cry only stirs my anger suddenly, inspiring me to break loose of the other rope constraint and crack one of the metal pieces of the handcuffs.
Hands grabs me from all sides, pushing me back into the chair with harsh shoves. At this the fuzzing over my mind and vision has made it impossible to deal exactly how many there are, but a headache that begins brutally straining my temples quickly to prove in my favor as I see right through the container we're all in. It's a large back of a big-haul truck, a relatively small space that hardly can hold all of the forms I'm struggling to make out. Finally just squeezing shut my eyes, I allow my Legacy to take over and make me sink through the chair and cuffs; Someone yelps as I try throwing the chair toward the pushing hands.
That proves to be about all I can do, though, because I can't see anything at all when I open my eyes again. Blindly I stumble around the tiny space, crashing into who's know what until my shoulder lands in something soft.
"M...Michele...?" I whisper hopefully.
Something cool presses against my throat and the man's voice growls, "Not a chance, sweetheart."
Unable to find strength to even push the gun away, I finally cave and the drugs they injected into me take over.
My own scream wakes me up, and by the looks of it, the people who touched my scars as well.
"Get the drugs..." one of them mumbles, but I'm determined not to let that happen a second time.
I kick up, catching his jaw and freeing my scarred from his gloved, latex hands. The four burned scars seems to tingle as jump to my feet on top of his metal table top, body tensed as people in white coats begin to surround me with wide, fearful eyes. They must have been certain I wouldn't wake, considering there doesn't seem to be any constraints in sight and they seem completely unsure how to contain me.
"Let me straighten this out for you..." I growl to them dangerously, "you can't constrain me any more. Where are my friends?!"
"Like we'd tell you that..." the guy who's jaw I kicked snorts, nursing his slightly wounded bone and pissing me off further.
He's suddenly face to face with me, my death grip on the front of his neck holding up in an obviously painful position. While he gasps for her air, I growl, "Where. The. Hell. Are. They?!"
The tip of something sharp begins to assent in the back of left calve, but I'm ready this time. I rally with a kick to the side of the attacker's face, causing him to stumble back far and me to jump down. There really isn't a logical reason for me to not use my Legacies before this humans if they were on that truck or have been prodding around me; I run right through the locked door and retreat from the guards standing in front of it. Their shock gives me enough time to turn a corner sharply down the hall, desperately moving my running through the walls so I'm able to see in each room I pass on the right side.
This is just like when Jemstone was killed.
I finally find myself in a room with about as many scientists surrounding a metal lab table as there were in the room I was in, which stops me in my tracks. Not bothering to check who it was, I order sharply, "Get off of her!"
Heads snap around, eyes wide with alarm. One sputters out, "How are you in here?!"
"SECURITY!" another shouts in obvious terror.
Scowling deeply, I easily push past them, gasping when I see her. She's unconscious and looks as pale as a ghost, several colored wires hooked up to her and a dull slouch about her posture. Spinning around, I scream at them, "What did you do to her?!"
A few guards come running in, each loaded with tranquilizer gun with their eyes narrowed but afraid. Clenching my fists, I snatch the nearest sharp object I see and hurl it blindly, ducking inside of the hollow metal table. While under, I wrap my arms around her form and start stumbling out to the side with her on top. Of course I fall to my back, but I'm fast enough to scramble away from the firing darts and heft her on my back. My breathing ragged and my heart burning, I run for both our lives.
The last thing I truly reminder is something sharp in my back and someone's scream.
Pittacus Lore's P.O. V.
Not surprisingly, my presence has greatly taken Number One off guard.
"What the hell do you mean you're Pittacus Lore?" she snaps, her new body in a highly defense position. I can identify the fear in her eyes, however, and this is an addressable issue.
"You are obviously aware of your own reincarnation, yes?" I inquire patiently.
Slowly, she nods and retorts, "Yeah? Well, what's it to you?"
"It is because of the Elders sacrifice that all of the Loric will be able to rise again upon the defeat of the Mogodorians. I an the only living Elder at the original ten; I live to guide you Garde and Cepan to victory. Then, I will die for you all to return home and fill in our places," I say steadily.
She stares at me skeptically. "And how am I supposed to believe you're telling the truth at all?"
"How may I prove it to you?" I offer in return steadily.
"I don't know!" she snaps, "do...do something Loric-ly!"
Sighing briefly, I look at her solemnly in the eye and respond, "Your name is Eliaza Tine Quire. I have been watching you and the other young Garde grow up; You moved around Malaysia for most of your life with your Cepan, Hessu, who went by the alias Heidi. You feel in love with a surfer named Wade in your final location, and were killed by a sword to the neck."
This alarms her into silence, making me hold back a slight smirk. I am aware that my presence was not supposed to be established, but the Cepan knew that I was missing in action for years ever since Lorien's demise. Now the time has come for me assemble all of the Loric once more and ensue certain victory before my sacrifice is made.
It is my destiny as much as theirs.
"I...I'm sorry, sir," she mumbles, unable to meet my gaze.
"Do not apologize, my child," I assure. "But the time has come for you to assist me."
"Me? Assist you?" She looks up incredulously.
"Indeed." I pick up my own tablet, one that is identical to the Garde's and pointing to a dot blipping dimly in England. "And we shall start by finding the next Number."
Adam's P. O. V.
I am extremely sore when I'm finally able to get out of the van. Number Nine merely smirks at me, turning away while Four shoots me a sympathetic gaze. Out of all of the Garde I'm left with, I particularly favor him. After all, neither one of us were the only one's that felt some of Nine's true strength and temper.
"I have arranged our flight," Sandor informs us. "Our plane leaves in three hours."
"Three hours?" Nine repeats, sounding discouraged. "What the hell are we supposed to do for three hours in an airport?"
"Occupy yourself," Henri replies curtly, heading off to the food court with Number Four himself.
Snorting, Nine follows suite with Sandor, leaving Number Six, Ella, and I to ourselves. Six, having not appearing to have gotten a lot of sleep in the van, sits in one of the plastic chairs that line in rows of two back-to-back and tilts her head back. While she closes her eyes, Ella gives me a kind look and sits nearby, taking my hand in her own. This, of course, surprises me greatly.
"Um...hi..." I shy, making her smile gently.
"I'm so sorry about what Nine did," she tells me genuinely, "it wasn't justified at all."
I merely shrug and bite my lower lip. I don't want to take sides with anyone on anything; That will result in more confliction She must be able to tell this as well, because she merely leans back and closes her own eyes. She is so beautiful, even in her sleep and relaxed state; I am beginning to develop feeling for this three-year younger girl. (My slowing down in age and such contributes.) Blushing a bit, I lean my own back and begin to try to attempt sleep.
*Dream cut.*
I'm standing in an empty room, my wrists and ankles bound. I instantly begin to panic, being upside down and completely helpless. A face more familiar to me than I'd like to admit looms from the shadows, giving me a wicked, crooked grin. He towers above especially in this state, his dark eyes gleaming as he pulls out his treasured sword. He has used it for many commercial opportunities among us on Mogodore, but it is also his most deadly weapon.
"Hello, Adamus," he rumbles as the color drains from my already-white face.
"Setr...Setrakus Ra..." I sputter. He obviously knows how much of a traitor I am to them, but why would he 'grace' me with his presence in a dream?
"Do you my Urmasa?" he asks slowly, casually playing her large, worn fingers across the gleaming, Modorian-symbol coated metal.
"Y-yes..." I manage, finding my throat to become constricted.
"This is what I plan on using for your execution," he informs me with notes of pleasure dancing in his voice, "and it will before our planet. You were meant to bring honor and you shall by representing what the enemy is to us. Do not worry; You shall be an important part in our celebration at finishing the last of the Loric."
"You will never defeat them," I respond matter of factly. I would never have dreamed of speaking to my once idol a few months ago, but I have changed for the better. I will never honor his face again, I will merely fantasize about stabbing Urmasa through it.
"You underestimate your own kind, Adamus," he merely smirks. "I have my methods of learning what I wish."
And with that, he sinks the tip into my neck.
*End of dream cut.*
The most disturbing part is that I wake up with that same cut gushing blood.
