The world was spinning when John woke up; he was dizzy, but no longer in
pain. His eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light in his cell.
"Ungh." He groaned slightly as he rolled over.
John looked down at himself to see that he too had been newly attired in the dark brown pants and dark green tank top that seemed to be the norm around here, at least for the mutant prisoners. As for the soldiers, they all wore fatigues...
The soldiers.
The lab.
The needle.
He quickly got up off the bed, then had to stand still to clear his head of the horrible dizziness he felt before moving forward to the mirror above the sink on the other side of his tiny, dank cell.
John rested his hands on either side of the sink, leaning on it for support. He was beginning to think that he should have waited before moving around, he was already nauseous.
"Hey, what the Hell?" he demanded of his reflection.
It was probably just his imagination, but he could've sworn that his eyes had had a slightly orange cast to them, but dismissed it. He looked closely at his eyes-they were their normal hazel color now.
He wished he could say the same about his hair, though. It was still dark brown for the most part, but it looked like someone took the liberty of dying his hair with bright streaks of gold while he was asleep.
"Man, what the Hell kind of place is this?!" He yelled out loud.
John punched the mirror, cutting his knuckles on its cracked surface.
Suddenly, bright orange flames bloomed up the length of his hand, from the wrist to his fingertips.
"What the...?"
John was a pyrotic, he could control flames with his mind, but only from an outside source; he could not create his own fire...at least not before he was taken here.
Now, the flame plumed from his hand like a torch and he had no idea how it was possible. He tried to remember what had happened earlier, but he came up empty. The only clear image in his mind's eye was a needle.
John shuddered. What had been in that syringe?
"Amazing, isn't it?" he heard the girl's voice across the hall.
He went to the glass front wall of his cell. She was there, leaning against the metal frame of her bed, she wasn't alarmed, she didn't even seem that worried.
'She's seen this before,' he realized.
"What?"
The girl shrugged, jutting her chin down the hall, in the direction he had been taken. "Your nifty new powers, only took them two hours of injections to get what they wanted out of you."
John touched the small bandage on his neck, remembering the needle.
The girl continued. "You can make fire, that's sure to be an eye-opener. I'm sure you'll be a favorite on CNN."
"I don't want to be rude, but what the Hell are you talking about?!" John demanded.
The girl's eyes remained calm.
"You weren't briefed? I guess things have changed since I was first taken here. They would at least let us know why we were chosen to be their new guinea pigs, their new...scapegoats," she hissed bitter words into the hall, almost talking to herself.
Her large dark eyes shifted back to John, remembering she had a question to answer. "We're here to show the public just how dangerous we mutants are. We're here to attack people, killing on occasion, they'll force us to do it—it doesn't matter how hard you resist. You'll either do what they force you to do, or you'll die. It's that simple."
"I don't want to hurt anyone," John said quietly.
"That doesn't matter. Seeing as how they already took care of you," she wiggled her fingers at him, indicating the flames he had made only moments before, "I suspect they need you for a mission. Rush and I were already assigned to one next week. You'll probably be with us. Have you ever seen Washington D.C.?"
John shook his head 'no'.
The girl smiled bitterly, "Bring a camera, once we're through, it'll be changed forever."
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^* (8 days later)
"AAAGGGGHHH!!!" John screamed as he was jolted awake by the pain in his neck. The cell was still dark, but he could see well enough to know that several soldiers were in the tiny room with him.
He was hauled out of bed and hustled into the hallway, shoved and dragged down the long corridor, and forced into an enormous room, so large and spacious that it rivaled most air hangers.
A soldier chained his wrists behind him, like handcuffs. "Get moving," he was told, so John walked forward, fearing another painful pulse from the bulging implant at the back of his neck.
"Hey, kid. Having fun yet?"
John looked up; Rush was about 20 ft. to his left, his wrists cuffed with several soldiers on either side of him. "Yeah, jolly." John snapped.
A large, inconspicuous utility van pulled up outside, and John considered flaming the soldiers and making off with it, but the implant pulsed slightly—not as powerful as before, only a reminder of his near helpless situation.
"I know what you're thinking, and the answer is no. There's no way you'd get out of here alive. You may have had your powers advanced, but we still hold the off switch." The soldier shoved John forward. "Get on the truck, now."
John followed Rush into the back of the van and found the girl to be inside already, seemingly waiting for them. "Hello boys." She said half heartedly.
"Hey Jess," Rush said, "What's the job this time?"
Jess—no longer a just nameless source of riddles and irritation to John—shrugged. "Nothing huge, for our part. We take down the gathering, but Wraith wants John to have some serious coverage."
"Show them some fireworks, huh?"
"Wraith sent Vega to chaperone this mission."
"Vega?!"
"Yes. This one isn't just for show—it's for real this time, and Wraith wants John to take down the whole building, nevermind the damages."
"Whoa," Rush said.
John would have asked what Jess meant by taking down a building and going to a gathering, but he decided that it didn't matter. He was trapped in a military compound, only one of over a hundred mutants that—he assumed—had been captured, somehow changed, and forced to use their powers.
He didn't care what this mission was about, all he cared about now was getting home-by any means necessary.
"Ungh." He groaned slightly as he rolled over.
John looked down at himself to see that he too had been newly attired in the dark brown pants and dark green tank top that seemed to be the norm around here, at least for the mutant prisoners. As for the soldiers, they all wore fatigues...
The soldiers.
The lab.
The needle.
He quickly got up off the bed, then had to stand still to clear his head of the horrible dizziness he felt before moving forward to the mirror above the sink on the other side of his tiny, dank cell.
John rested his hands on either side of the sink, leaning on it for support. He was beginning to think that he should have waited before moving around, he was already nauseous.
"Hey, what the Hell?" he demanded of his reflection.
It was probably just his imagination, but he could've sworn that his eyes had had a slightly orange cast to them, but dismissed it. He looked closely at his eyes-they were their normal hazel color now.
He wished he could say the same about his hair, though. It was still dark brown for the most part, but it looked like someone took the liberty of dying his hair with bright streaks of gold while he was asleep.
"Man, what the Hell kind of place is this?!" He yelled out loud.
John punched the mirror, cutting his knuckles on its cracked surface.
Suddenly, bright orange flames bloomed up the length of his hand, from the wrist to his fingertips.
"What the...?"
John was a pyrotic, he could control flames with his mind, but only from an outside source; he could not create his own fire...at least not before he was taken here.
Now, the flame plumed from his hand like a torch and he had no idea how it was possible. He tried to remember what had happened earlier, but he came up empty. The only clear image in his mind's eye was a needle.
John shuddered. What had been in that syringe?
"Amazing, isn't it?" he heard the girl's voice across the hall.
He went to the glass front wall of his cell. She was there, leaning against the metal frame of her bed, she wasn't alarmed, she didn't even seem that worried.
'She's seen this before,' he realized.
"What?"
The girl shrugged, jutting her chin down the hall, in the direction he had been taken. "Your nifty new powers, only took them two hours of injections to get what they wanted out of you."
John touched the small bandage on his neck, remembering the needle.
The girl continued. "You can make fire, that's sure to be an eye-opener. I'm sure you'll be a favorite on CNN."
"I don't want to be rude, but what the Hell are you talking about?!" John demanded.
The girl's eyes remained calm.
"You weren't briefed? I guess things have changed since I was first taken here. They would at least let us know why we were chosen to be their new guinea pigs, their new...scapegoats," she hissed bitter words into the hall, almost talking to herself.
Her large dark eyes shifted back to John, remembering she had a question to answer. "We're here to show the public just how dangerous we mutants are. We're here to attack people, killing on occasion, they'll force us to do it—it doesn't matter how hard you resist. You'll either do what they force you to do, or you'll die. It's that simple."
"I don't want to hurt anyone," John said quietly.
"That doesn't matter. Seeing as how they already took care of you," she wiggled her fingers at him, indicating the flames he had made only moments before, "I suspect they need you for a mission. Rush and I were already assigned to one next week. You'll probably be with us. Have you ever seen Washington D.C.?"
John shook his head 'no'.
The girl smiled bitterly, "Bring a camera, once we're through, it'll be changed forever."
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^* (8 days later)
"AAAGGGGHHH!!!" John screamed as he was jolted awake by the pain in his neck. The cell was still dark, but he could see well enough to know that several soldiers were in the tiny room with him.
He was hauled out of bed and hustled into the hallway, shoved and dragged down the long corridor, and forced into an enormous room, so large and spacious that it rivaled most air hangers.
A soldier chained his wrists behind him, like handcuffs. "Get moving," he was told, so John walked forward, fearing another painful pulse from the bulging implant at the back of his neck.
"Hey, kid. Having fun yet?"
John looked up; Rush was about 20 ft. to his left, his wrists cuffed with several soldiers on either side of him. "Yeah, jolly." John snapped.
A large, inconspicuous utility van pulled up outside, and John considered flaming the soldiers and making off with it, but the implant pulsed slightly—not as powerful as before, only a reminder of his near helpless situation.
"I know what you're thinking, and the answer is no. There's no way you'd get out of here alive. You may have had your powers advanced, but we still hold the off switch." The soldier shoved John forward. "Get on the truck, now."
John followed Rush into the back of the van and found the girl to be inside already, seemingly waiting for them. "Hello boys." She said half heartedly.
"Hey Jess," Rush said, "What's the job this time?"
Jess—no longer a just nameless source of riddles and irritation to John—shrugged. "Nothing huge, for our part. We take down the gathering, but Wraith wants John to have some serious coverage."
"Show them some fireworks, huh?"
"Wraith sent Vega to chaperone this mission."
"Vega?!"
"Yes. This one isn't just for show—it's for real this time, and Wraith wants John to take down the whole building, nevermind the damages."
"Whoa," Rush said.
John would have asked what Jess meant by taking down a building and going to a gathering, but he decided that it didn't matter. He was trapped in a military compound, only one of over a hundred mutants that—he assumed—had been captured, somehow changed, and forced to use their powers.
He didn't care what this mission was about, all he cared about now was getting home-by any means necessary.