The boy watched silently as the tall professor walked up the stairs and
left. The door shut with a heavy thud and he was alone. He immediately
stopped his shivering and his violet eyes narrowed dangerously.
He pulled the black overshirt more tightly to him and stared at the white lab. Everything shined of high quality. He had never seen such amazingly bright beauty before. He squinted his eyes. It was much brighter than he was used to.
The only thing wrong with the scene was the sterile look and smell to the place.
He allowed his eyes to adjust to the light and explored silently. Minutes later he accepted that there were no shadows. No safe havens to hide in until there was a chance to escape. The door wouldn't budge.
"This sucks." The boy muttered darkly.
He didn't know how he had gotten here. One minute he was in a dark alley, sleeping behind a garbage bin, the next he was here in this bright room trapped.
He wanted to go home. All he wanted was a home... The boy shook his head to get rid of the unwanted thoughts. It was stupid to think of a home after all that had happened to him. No one wanted a street rat. No one wanted him. No one wanted him. He didn't even have a name.
I have no one, so I have to take care of myself. I must care only for myself. I must do what I have to. I have to survive. That was the rule of colony L2. And he lived by those rules. He had to or he would have died long ago. It was hard, but at least he was still breathing. Much more than he could say about the other kids he had seen. He wouldn't end up like them. He couldn't.
The boy climbed up onto the examinaiton table to have a better look around the lab. On a small shiny table next to him was the empty syringe. He leaned over and stretched across the gap between the tables and snatched it. Holding the shiny needle, he stared at it silently. His mouth in a thin line, the famous Maxwell grin having yet to be born.
He had a weapon.
Flimsy though it was, it was still something he could use to hurt the tall man. That grey haired man... he wished him harm. He could feel it. The mans presense spoke of pain and his instincts warned him. And if it was one thing he had learned from living on the streets, it was that you should always trust your instincts. This man was evil and so he would fight him. Fight for his life. Something he had too much experience in.
He hid the syringe inside the many folds of the black shirt he was wearing. He wondered briefly how he came to be dressed in them but decided that it didn't really matter at the moment. So he sat silently in the white room and waited. Waited for his prison guard to come.
He pulled the black overshirt more tightly to him and stared at the white lab. Everything shined of high quality. He had never seen such amazingly bright beauty before. He squinted his eyes. It was much brighter than he was used to.
The only thing wrong with the scene was the sterile look and smell to the place.
He allowed his eyes to adjust to the light and explored silently. Minutes later he accepted that there were no shadows. No safe havens to hide in until there was a chance to escape. The door wouldn't budge.
"This sucks." The boy muttered darkly.
He didn't know how he had gotten here. One minute he was in a dark alley, sleeping behind a garbage bin, the next he was here in this bright room trapped.
He wanted to go home. All he wanted was a home... The boy shook his head to get rid of the unwanted thoughts. It was stupid to think of a home after all that had happened to him. No one wanted a street rat. No one wanted him. No one wanted him. He didn't even have a name.
I have no one, so I have to take care of myself. I must care only for myself. I must do what I have to. I have to survive. That was the rule of colony L2. And he lived by those rules. He had to or he would have died long ago. It was hard, but at least he was still breathing. Much more than he could say about the other kids he had seen. He wouldn't end up like them. He couldn't.
The boy climbed up onto the examinaiton table to have a better look around the lab. On a small shiny table next to him was the empty syringe. He leaned over and stretched across the gap between the tables and snatched it. Holding the shiny needle, he stared at it silently. His mouth in a thin line, the famous Maxwell grin having yet to be born.
He had a weapon.
Flimsy though it was, it was still something he could use to hurt the tall man. That grey haired man... he wished him harm. He could feel it. The mans presense spoke of pain and his instincts warned him. And if it was one thing he had learned from living on the streets, it was that you should always trust your instincts. This man was evil and so he would fight him. Fight for his life. Something he had too much experience in.
He hid the syringe inside the many folds of the black shirt he was wearing. He wondered briefly how he came to be dressed in them but decided that it didn't really matter at the moment. So he sat silently in the white room and waited. Waited for his prison guard to come.