Anesthesia has a habit of making one groggy upon their awake. It also has a habit of giving one strange dreams, oftentimes nightmares. Of course, it could simply have been the fact that Max was prone to them, anyway.
There was a lot of darkness and a lot of running and a lot of gunfire. Everything blurred together, her vision wouldn't work right for some reason, and the flashes were coming faster than she could make sense of them. The night Lydecker had come to her in the barracks, told her she was special...special, she and Zack. They were special. Each had something to offer, but she and Zack. If they didn't matter, no one did.
Perfect.
Over and over the word came.
Perfect.
You, Max. You're perfect.
Her vision returned and she giggled. Giggled? How odd...
You can see better. You can run faster. You're better than them, you and Zack.
Zack! Oh Zack...and then there he was, right alongside her. Not dead...alive, running with her. He grinned and she grinned and they ran together, like they were racing. This was a game. Non-competitive, just for fun, because they were the best and they deserved time to play.
You two are everything I could ever have hoped for.
Flash to Manticore...escape and evade, their favorite game. They'd always been the best at it, hadn't they?
Perfect.
Back to now, to running, excitement. Together again. The best Manticore had to offer.
The epitome of genetic perfection. That's what you are, Max. You and Zack. Shame it's going to waste.
Stop! To waste? Who's going to waste? Not us...we're the best...we can do no wrong...
And then the water was cold, so very cold. She didn't know where it had come from, but suddenly there it was, all around her, and already she desperately needed air. She kicked for the surface but it was to no avail; as in training, she was tied to the floor, and there was Zack beside her, trying as she was to escape. A sharp pain through her chest told her time was running out and she would have screamed if she weren't underwater. She looked up, finding the familiar platform and expecting to see Lydecker but instead finding the cackling face of the wretched blonde woman, who looked to her left and waved her arm in presentation. Max followed the gesture, gasping a mouthful of water at the sight of the gallows where Lydecker and Logan stood, hands tied behind their backs and nooses hanging loosely about their necks.
Perfect.
She kicked harder, with all her might but the restraints held her and she couldn't figure out why. They shouldn't, she was stronger, stronger than this. She was the best. It wasn't so hard so why couldn't she break free? All was red and then all was calm and dry and she embraced Zack, who looked down at her sadly and shook his head. Her brow furrowed in confusion and then she remembered Lydecker and Logan, whence she looked over her shoulder to spy them both still at the gallows, this time separated from her by a plexiglass wall.
PERFECT, Max!
She ran at it, banging her fists against it without causing it to so much as rattle. Then came his accusing voice...why, Max, why? Why are you letting this happen? I thought you cared, I thought maybe we had something, why won't you help?
"I'm trying, Logan!" she cried but her voice failed her and all that left her lips was silence. The tears came then, the wracking sobs, and his voice persisted...why, Max?
Yes, Max. Why? You're perfect. PERFECT. Why aren't you acting that way, why aren't you acting how you were made? How can someone who's perfect allow this to happen? P-E-R...
"I haven't done anything! It's not my fault!"
...F-E-C-T! Perfect!
Then there was no sound, no wall, nothing but Lydecker pushing Logan to his death and then jumping to his own. There was one scream, from deep within her, and then there was reality.
She banged her head against the cold, hard wall behind her and clenched her eyes tightly shut as she tried to catch her breath. Across the insides of her eyelids were remnants of the dream, though, so she blinked them open again and began to take in her surroundings. There wasn't much to see...the room was small, dark, cold and barren, in traditional Manticore fashion. The only object in the room besides herself was a camera in the corner of the ceiling, unless you counted the steel door with the small window at the top. She attempted to bring her arms up to wipe the sweat from her face only to find that they were chained rather tightly to the wall.
"Wonderful," she spat. "Wake from one nightmare to live in another." Not that the fact she was in such confinement surprised her; she'd expected the blonde woman (whose name she still had not picked up) not to take any chances. But this was definitely an occasion she wished she'd been wrong. She couldn't handle such secure imprisonment, and, in spite of herself, she actually began to look forward to the intense training she was certain she'd soon receive. At least then she'd be able to move about.
In the meantime, she set to work occupying herself with daydreams of escape. Fresh air, sunlight, freedom...freedom she'd cherish with her life, that she'd never let herself compromise ever again. She'd go to Canada, change her name perhaps, live the way Zack wanted to...with Logan, of course.
//ARGH! No, forget him!// she chastised herself. But she couldn't. She couldn't imagine living in Canada without him and when she tried to, the vision of him hanging popped up. Soon, that was all she could think about; that, the repetition of "perfect" and Zack's sad, shaking face. The most awful feeling overtook her...much like the one that had struck her the last time she'd fled to Canada, like something was horribly wrong. The notion of premonition, destiny, two choices equally dangerous but one more disastrous than the other entered her mind. Right and wrong, Zack and Logan, death and survival. A path to each, perhaps to both. Friends, family, leadership, sentimentality, weakness, cowardice, strength, courage, love, hate, anger, trepidation, strategy, advantage, war, flight, battle...words fighting for superiority among her thoughts and leaving her both confused and shaking with the most intense and powerful intuitive despair she'd ever felt.
Perfect.
"Must be the anesthesia," she whispered bitterly to herself.
There was a lot of darkness and a lot of running and a lot of gunfire. Everything blurred together, her vision wouldn't work right for some reason, and the flashes were coming faster than she could make sense of them. The night Lydecker had come to her in the barracks, told her she was special...special, she and Zack. They were special. Each had something to offer, but she and Zack. If they didn't matter, no one did.
Perfect.
Over and over the word came.
Perfect.
You, Max. You're perfect.
Her vision returned and she giggled. Giggled? How odd...
You can see better. You can run faster. You're better than them, you and Zack.
Zack! Oh Zack...and then there he was, right alongside her. Not dead...alive, running with her. He grinned and she grinned and they ran together, like they were racing. This was a game. Non-competitive, just for fun, because they were the best and they deserved time to play.
You two are everything I could ever have hoped for.
Flash to Manticore...escape and evade, their favorite game. They'd always been the best at it, hadn't they?
Perfect.
Back to now, to running, excitement. Together again. The best Manticore had to offer.
The epitome of genetic perfection. That's what you are, Max. You and Zack. Shame it's going to waste.
Stop! To waste? Who's going to waste? Not us...we're the best...we can do no wrong...
And then the water was cold, so very cold. She didn't know where it had come from, but suddenly there it was, all around her, and already she desperately needed air. She kicked for the surface but it was to no avail; as in training, she was tied to the floor, and there was Zack beside her, trying as she was to escape. A sharp pain through her chest told her time was running out and she would have screamed if she weren't underwater. She looked up, finding the familiar platform and expecting to see Lydecker but instead finding the cackling face of the wretched blonde woman, who looked to her left and waved her arm in presentation. Max followed the gesture, gasping a mouthful of water at the sight of the gallows where Lydecker and Logan stood, hands tied behind their backs and nooses hanging loosely about their necks.
Perfect.
She kicked harder, with all her might but the restraints held her and she couldn't figure out why. They shouldn't, she was stronger, stronger than this. She was the best. It wasn't so hard so why couldn't she break free? All was red and then all was calm and dry and she embraced Zack, who looked down at her sadly and shook his head. Her brow furrowed in confusion and then she remembered Lydecker and Logan, whence she looked over her shoulder to spy them both still at the gallows, this time separated from her by a plexiglass wall.
PERFECT, Max!
She ran at it, banging her fists against it without causing it to so much as rattle. Then came his accusing voice...why, Max, why? Why are you letting this happen? I thought you cared, I thought maybe we had something, why won't you help?
"I'm trying, Logan!" she cried but her voice failed her and all that left her lips was silence. The tears came then, the wracking sobs, and his voice persisted...why, Max?
Yes, Max. Why? You're perfect. PERFECT. Why aren't you acting that way, why aren't you acting how you were made? How can someone who's perfect allow this to happen? P-E-R...
"I haven't done anything! It's not my fault!"
...F-E-C-T! Perfect!
Then there was no sound, no wall, nothing but Lydecker pushing Logan to his death and then jumping to his own. There was one scream, from deep within her, and then there was reality.
She banged her head against the cold, hard wall behind her and clenched her eyes tightly shut as she tried to catch her breath. Across the insides of her eyelids were remnants of the dream, though, so she blinked them open again and began to take in her surroundings. There wasn't much to see...the room was small, dark, cold and barren, in traditional Manticore fashion. The only object in the room besides herself was a camera in the corner of the ceiling, unless you counted the steel door with the small window at the top. She attempted to bring her arms up to wipe the sweat from her face only to find that they were chained rather tightly to the wall.
"Wonderful," she spat. "Wake from one nightmare to live in another." Not that the fact she was in such confinement surprised her; she'd expected the blonde woman (whose name she still had not picked up) not to take any chances. But this was definitely an occasion she wished she'd been wrong. She couldn't handle such secure imprisonment, and, in spite of herself, she actually began to look forward to the intense training she was certain she'd soon receive. At least then she'd be able to move about.
In the meantime, she set to work occupying herself with daydreams of escape. Fresh air, sunlight, freedom...freedom she'd cherish with her life, that she'd never let herself compromise ever again. She'd go to Canada, change her name perhaps, live the way Zack wanted to...with Logan, of course.
//ARGH! No, forget him!// she chastised herself. But she couldn't. She couldn't imagine living in Canada without him and when she tried to, the vision of him hanging popped up. Soon, that was all she could think about; that, the repetition of "perfect" and Zack's sad, shaking face. The most awful feeling overtook her...much like the one that had struck her the last time she'd fled to Canada, like something was horribly wrong. The notion of premonition, destiny, two choices equally dangerous but one more disastrous than the other entered her mind. Right and wrong, Zack and Logan, death and survival. A path to each, perhaps to both. Friends, family, leadership, sentimentality, weakness, cowardice, strength, courage, love, hate, anger, trepidation, strategy, advantage, war, flight, battle...words fighting for superiority among her thoughts and leaving her both confused and shaking with the most intense and powerful intuitive despair she'd ever felt.
Perfect.
"Must be the anesthesia," she whispered bitterly to herself.