Chapter 6 - hindrance and hatred
I wake up about ten hours after my test ended, I swear, again; I wouldn't be surprised if my first ever word was a swearword. 004 has one of those I told you so looks on his face; smarmy loser. 003 helps me sit up and junior tells me that it might be a coupe of days before I'm walking again.
Which is bad, he continues. I want to execute the plan as soon as possible for fear of falling into another fifteen-day slumber. If we can be carrying out the plan within a week things should be okay; it all depends on you three working together. I think I can psychically convince the men that they aren't seeing you but you three need to be the ones to open doors, enter codes and steer boats; for that I need you all to follow my every instruction. Understand?
We all agree; I think we know how important getting the hell out of here is and even a loser like 004 or I would be willing to put pride aside for a few days. Then 001 gives the warning, Kuroda, and we instantly revert back to our nasty normal conversation. I may have fainted, 004 starts. But at least I was able to walk afterwards; I think that proves me to be stronger than you Zwitter. I snort back at him. I could easily get right up from this bed and whup you one from here to Chicago no problem pal; get over here and I'll prove it to ya! He walks over to the other side of the room and sits down. Why don't you come over here and prove how tough you are then macho man? I'll even give you the first hit, seeing as how I got a gun in my hand. 003 gives a huge sigh and lies down with her hands covering her face. You're both such children; grow up! I do a sappy imitation of her like the kids used to do of me when I was in grade school; she gives me a look that could make superman flinch.
Kuroda comes in with dinner, same food as always: potatoes, fruit juice, chewy ham and cheese. All five types of disgusting; I throw my ham at Kuroda and to my complete surprise it hits him smack bang in the face. He shoots, he scores! I yell out. Kuroda growls and walks out of the room. Once he's out of hearing distance we revert to our normal selves: 003 goes back to sitting like a kid all sad and stuff, 004 sits in the corner and pouts and I sit pouting too. The kid stats talking again after five or so minutes.
We need to go as soon as you're up to moving 002; how're you feeling anyway. I didn't actually think to try walking; I shift these great hulks of metal I call my legs over the side of my bed and try standing up. Bad move on my part. I fall forward onto my nose - very painful and very, very annoying - and 003 helps me back up onto the bed; she says I'm way too heavy for my age. I blame the artificial limbs personally. Regardless, says the kid. We need to plan this articulately. Right, we strike one week from today at midnight; we break out of here at eleven forty-five, make our way to the docks, break in, get provisions and go. I know it seems simple, but this fortress is very complex and the guards are all armed. Hence, I'm giving you all duties; 004, you're in charge of assault. 003, you need to make sure we know an enemy is coming before he knows we're coming. 002, you need to secure a location once we've captured it; work alongside 004. I'm going to make sure we remain invisible and that all the doors open for us. We clear? As if it couldn't be. 003 is a radar, 004 gets to blow their brains off and I get to finish them off; easy.
As if, something'll mess up, like someone gets hurt or we miss the change in shift; the possibilities are endless. But as long as we can cover each others' backs we might have a minute chance at success; I hope. Part of me hopes that I'll get to extract sweet vengeance on Kuroda before we go. Don't get your hopes up 002, the tyke says in my head, stupid mind reading. Our first concern is getting out of here alive; not our vendetta with Kuroda. Focus on getting out, not being the weapon they want you to be; it'd just be conforming to what they want. Damn, there was me wanting to send an accelerated kick right into his jaw; that'd be pretty sweet. Almost as good as giving one to a few old rivals and nemeses from back home; which I might even get to do if I get out of here. But then the kid reminds me that I'd be making a weapon out of myself. Regardless of promising the kid not to become a weapon I go to bed thinking sweet thoughts of giving my fifth grade teacher a perfect accelerated kick in the gut. I love these dreams…