Hi! I wrote chapter 2 immediately because school is cancelled and now I can pull an all nighter, just to obsess over this! So here we go! If you need notes as to what certain things mean, such as the underlining or the italics, read the notes at the beginning of chapter one. Yes, I wrote a lot of notes, but I bolded the beginning of that section just so it could be easier to find! (This could also probably use some editing later, as I'm sure some things are off because I went back and changed a lot as I went and couldn't bring myself to reread the same thing subtly different so many times; remind me if you notice that editing is heavily needed, else I'll forget! For now, though, I just really wanna post!)
And we're off!
.
.
Chapter 2 - More On That
The room was empty, save for a blank table in the center of it and empty shelves lining the three walls that possessed no doors, giving the room only one escape aside from the air vent that was too high up on the ceiling and too little for any human to even attempt to pass through. The lights were blaring a blinding white, highlighting the pure walls and shining off the silvery metals of the table and the shelves. The cages were made up of a shiny black metal, their two cages being the only apparent objects in the room aside from themselves inside of them. The door to the room was just as pure white as the walls, the only impurities in it being the silvery handle and the small, tinted, translucent glass running thin and long just above the knob. It was the almost opaque type of glass that only really allowed one to make out shadows, if anything, from the other side. The room was so bare and monotone, he swore he could forget what colors were if he were to be there for long enough.
This sort of setting only added to the uncountable questions Conan wanted to ask the girl. Still coming out of his dreary state, a little sore and groggy but finally awake enough to be present, he was not about to miss out on an opportunity to get some answers. Anyone would, really, and with such an inquisitive mind as his was, it was no wonder he was so quick to want to get down to business.
First, though, he sat up in his cage, then slowly proceeded to stand up, as his body still protested the action, and began to look around. He was just a few inches small enough to stand at his full height within the cage; his poor companion would surely not have such a luxury. He searched through his pockets for any of his devices to assure himself of if he still had them or not. Neither of his phones, his detective badge, or any of his tracking stickers were on him. His glasses were also missing from his face. While the lack of technology was one thing he'd miss about the glasses, they also served him to be a small comfort in his current body, as they had hid his identity and became a part of his childish charade, a testament to the body and situation he was currently trapped in. He did not know why they would have taken them, as the technology in them wouldn't have been apparent unless, perhaps, they had been looking for just that… his mind swam with the endless possibilities.
He also did not have on him his shoes, belt, or watch. All he had were the clothes on his back. Must have seen me use my more inconspicuous technology during the fight and had them taken from me for security reasons, he presumed.
He could not bend the metal of the cage with his hands, and he went around the entire thing, inspecting every nook and cranny. The only thing that turned up in his search was that the cage must be locked with some sort of electronic key, if the small box with the thin line going down the front of it that he had to strain to see (as it was positioned at the front of his cage) was of any indication to him. He tried to kick the cage with all his might, as he was certainly more confident in his legs and kicking than with anything else, even though he knew the effort was in vain. He even tried to kick and pull simultaneously; the bars were just so thin, it seemed impossible that not even a dent was put into them, with all the effort he went through! After kicking enough times to stub his toe into next year and pulling until his arms were noodles did he finally lay off the idea; yes, he had done something so useless for such a long time, but the effort really didn't seem such a waste. With how thin those bars were, at least he now knew these cages had to be made of something special.
He finally turned to the girl who was still in her corner, looking at him as if he were a lunatic. I probably do look like one, he thought. Her knees were drawn up to her chest and her arms were wrapped around her legs, her head resting against them as she had settled to watch him quite a few minutes ago. She opened her mouth to speak, after seeing him give up on his endeavor to crush his toes into oblivion.
"You won't get anywhere with that, you know. These cages are… special," she told him.
"No, I sort of figured that out, after all that," he told her, a little testily for him. He reigned it in quickly, deciding to finally ask his first questions to her, a probe.
"Do you know where we are, or why we are here?" She turned to look at him, meeting his gaze with a sadness and weariness that hurt his heart to see on such a young looking face, despite the appearance of his own. He recoiled slightly, but caught himself quickly, hoping she did not notice it. She didn't seem to, or if she did, she either made the wrong assumption as to why he did so or simply chose to ignore it.
"Yes. It's called the School, a terrible place where they do what they call "experiments" in the name of "science"," she used air quotes around the words "experiments" and "science", as if it were some sort of lame inside joke that only she really had the knowledge to understand. She said all this with a shudder and a bitter face, palpably dripping with sarcasm. One didn't need to be a genius to see that her reaction was anything but a pleasant recollection of the place.
"And… how have you come to know of this place, to be involved in all of this?" he asked again, testing the limits. Her gaze left him to stare at the floor of her own cage, just beyond her feet.
"I was born here," she started. She paused for a moment, and Conan stayed silent, hoping for her to continue on. After the moment passed, she took a deep breath and continued.
"In the American facility, not here here. But, well, here, I guess. I was a test tube baby. And of the psychopath scientists who "raised" me, too," she used air quotes again around the word "raised", and Conan could only assume as to why. It wasn't such a hard thing to guess, though he didn't venture to say anything about the topic.
"Do you by any chance know where we are? Or at least, what they plan to do with us?" She shook her head.
"No, I only just got to this country recently; we're probably still in Japan though, since that's where they tried to bring me and my family. Where in Japan this is, who the hell even knows? I don't really know much about the country in general, honestly. Kinda wish I did, but fat load of a chance it'd be of any help to me, anyways. And as for what they plan to do with us? Who the hell knows? Could be anything. All I know for sure is that it ain't gonna be pleasant." She was fidgeting with her hands, distracted with something, and Conan could not get over the grief in her tone. He hoped to be able to do something about it eventually, but first, he'd need to take a little more control of the situation. And before he took any sort of action, he needed to know exactly what he was going to be running into. Knowledge was essential in all of this.
"You may not know exactly where we are, but have you been inside this facility before at all? Do you know the layout, what lies beyond the door or any behind it, who is here, how they act, what objects are lying around and where; do you know anything that might be useful in an escape?" he questioned, hoping for something but not beyond a reasonable doubt. And her answer confirmed those doubts.
"No, I haven't been here before, but I do know the scientists are evil and the erasers are sadistic, and vice versa. But the way you're questioning me is pretty advanced for someone so young? Who are you?" She looked right at him, questioning, and he could not ignore the spark of hope that lay behind her eyes, and just beyond it he saw a fire begin to regain its kindling, the same fire he had seen in her before, during the earlier fight.
"Conan Edogawa, detective," he replied, giving her his classic, self confident smirk. She laughed, and he felt glad to finally see a real sign of life on her face.
"And might I ask for your name as well?" he added, remembering that he did not, in fact, have anything to call her by.
"My name is Max, sh-short for Maximum Ride. A-and how old are you, Mr. Detective?" she asked, stumbling on her words and still failing to swallow her laugh. He did not take offense due to the situation and the fact that he could tell that she meant no harm. Still, he snorted at the name. What kind of name was that, anyway? He'd heard of many foreign names, but really?
"No offense, but what sort of name is Maximum Ride? Did they give it to you? Did you come up with it yourself?" She seemed a little exasperated at that, but the little burst of joy from earlier and the small fit of laughter had yet to fully leave her. She must have been so very stressed, perhaps scared out of her wits to be so shocked from such a small comedic offense to still be laughing, even just a little bit, from it.
"Well yeah, I did come up with it myself. It's not like the damn whitecoats would ever care enough to name a test subject. I'd like to see you do better, pipsqueak," she replied, spitting bitterly the words "test subject" but maintaining a playfully testy tone throughout. If only she knew, he thought to himself. After a second, she remembered her previous question.
"And speaking of which, h-how old are you, anyway?" She was almost there, but a small burst of laughter broke through the surface again before she squandered it back down into small snorts. At least she's getting something out of all this, the little detective thought, somewhat miffed but deciding to hide that for the moment in light of the more important things that needed to be focused on.
"I'm seven,'' he replied shortly. "But what about you? How old are you? How have you lived thus far? And what did you mean previously, when you said erasers? Who exactly are they?" he asked again, testing his limits and focusing back on the more important topics at hand. He did not dare to stay within the previous, small, bubbly atmosphere for too long, as he did not know how much time he had left to gain as much information as he could. He tried not to push for too much at once, as she might close off from him given her young age the likely amount of trauma and trust issues she probably carried on her shoulders. He was sure, however, that his apparent young age would wear her down soon enough for him to get into asking some of the bigger questions with less of a risk of such an occurrence.
"Woah there, slow down, kiddo. One question at a time next time," she said, finally reigning in her laughter with his sudden onslaught of questions. "Let's see…. I'm fourteen years young, see! Livin' the rockin' life of your average teenager. With wings. Who also happens to be an experiment. And erasers, they're those wolf people… things… from earlier. No doubt you remember them," she finished, disgust overtaking her features, the laughter from just moments ago gone at the reminder of the current situation.
"Yep, can't say I forgot those smelly bastards," he affirmed. She looked at him for a second before either of them could realize his words, exclaiming, "Language!" at him, before they heard a noise coming from somewhere beyond the door. They both froze instantly. Suddenly, she leaned over towards him, dropping her voice to a low whisper.
"Listen up here, kid. The second you find yourself a chance, you better try to escape with everything you've got. Don't even try to assume these people will tread lightly around children; thinking so much will only get you hurt, maybe even killed. You have to get out of here. Capiche?" The urgency in her voice put Conan on edge, but he could not console her that he would do so, as it would be a lie. Instead, he leaned closer as well, dropping his voice just as low as hers.
"I won't do that. I've been asking you questions just for that reason; I can't go running into the unknown, not like this. Especially not when such nonsensical things seem to be surrounding this place." He made it a point to glance at her wings, taking care to remember as well the werewolves- erasers- that also shook his previously more stable universe. Shrinking was one thing, but this was a whole other ball park for him, and he was not comfortable with that.
"Running into such an unknown is dangerous; I need to spend time gathering as much information as I can before I even contemplate making a move, else I might do so at the wrong time and jeopardize everything, not to mention that I am not leaving you behind. And that's a whole other thing to consider in all of this-". Their hurriedly whispered conversation was cut short as, toward the end of it, the incoherent yet audibly excited voices he'd been paying attention to from the back of his mind suddenly stopped sounding from the other side of the door. They had slowly been drawing closer, but as he had been having his hurried, last minute conversation with Max, he had failed to notice just how close the voices had become, and the sound of the lock beeping (hidden on the other side of the door, too bad he couldn't see it!) followed by the doorknob turning had immediately drawn in both of their attentions in their entirety.
.
.
.
.
.
That's all for now, folks!
Gonna be honest, not exactly where I intended to end chapter 2, but it was already long and I'm exhausted and this is a good stopping point to look over and post before starting the next set of events! Though looking over hardly means anything with my brain as fried as it is at the moment... Anyways! I hope you enjoyed~!
