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A/N: Only four reviews? I'm shocked! Surely you guys can do better than that! Anyway, here's chapter 2. Enjoy!
Slowly, my vision came back, though my sight was still swimming. I groaned and tried to sit up, but I couldn't do it, and not from weakness or anything like that. I looked down. There were some kind of restraints holding my arms and legs down, pinning me to what seemed to be an operating table. There were cords and leads trailing from my arms and chest to some point behind my head, and I could hear the beeping of an EKG. I also seemed to be wearing some kind of gay-looking space-age medical gown. I wasn't sure, though, because my glasses were missing. Everything was blurry as hell.
What the fuck is going on here? How did I get here? Last I remember, I was on the Citadel, and- Oh, right. I got hit with a dart, and... Fuck! I can't remember anything after that. Must've been some sort of tranq. But who the hell would want to tranq me? I haven't been in this universe long enough to piss anybody off enough for anything like this.
In the midst of my struggling against the restraints and internal ranting, two figures walked in. One of them was talking to the other. I strained to hear.
"-don't know where you found him, but I'm glad you did! This subject is at blank slate, so he'll be perfect for the project. Even with all those genetic defects, he's a goldmine of possibilities for experimentation!" the figure said to the second one. His voice was grating on my ears, almost as annoying as fingernails on a chalkboard.
Oh, fuck me. That doesn't sound good. Fuck my life . . .
"Glad to help." the second figure said. It seemed like he was about to say more, but I cut him off.
"Hey! Jackasses!" I yelled.
"Ah, you're awake," the first figure said. Oh god, that sounded ominous. The figure walked over next to the table I was strapped to. "That means we can begin." The man looked back over his shoulder. "Atkinson, would you mind helping me strap him in further for the procedure?"
Oh no. No. This is NOT happening.
"Fuck you," I spat, as the second guy came over to hold me down, "Go to hell."
"My, my, such spirit," the man said with an annoyingly smug smile. Now, if only he was closer and my arm was free, so I could punch him . . . but at the same time I was scared shitless by him.
"It seems we shall have to break you down a little, but you will make a wonderful prototype for Project Ares."
I swallowed hard. That did not sound good. At all.
"Who the fuck are you?" I managed to ask, not even bothering with struggling any more, just flinching at the feel of cold metal being clamped over my forehead, holding my head in place over the table. A bunch of metal pincers were and painfully dragged and held my eyelids open.
"That's not important," the man said with an air of superiority. "Nor is the location where
we are, or anything like that. All you need to know is that you are going to be very useful for helping Humanity to achieve to our rightful place in the galaxy."
Aw, shit. "Fucking hell," I said. "You're Cerberus. In that case, you can go fuck yourself. No way am I helping a god damn human supremacist organization." I remembered Cerberus from the games. That was some bad stuff they got into. Especially Overlord . . .
"Well, my dear boy-" the man started, before I cut him off.
"Don't patronize me, ass-wipe." I interrupted, glaring at him. His eyes narrowed, as far as I could tell with my blurry vision. Aww, did I hurt your feelings? Well, too bad, fucker.
"As I was going to say," he growled, "You don't really have a choice." He gestured at the other man, who was behind me somewhere. "Atkinson, give him the anesthesia. Muscle relaxant too. Not much,just enough that he can't move and doesn't scream too loudly." He picked up some rather indistinct surgical tools from a tray next to the operating table.
"Anesthesia and muscle relaxant should be kicking now," the second man, Atkinson I think his name was. Actually, I am feeling a little woozy . . .
"Good," -The first man again- "That means we can begin." An indistinct group of objects on the ceiling came to life and lowered close enough to be identified as robotic arms, presumably operated by someone in a different room.
"Fuck you, you frigging xenophobic bastard," I snarled with as little of a slur as I could manage, doing my best to not show how utterly and completely terrified I was. "I hope you die horribly and burn in hell 'till the end of time, and-" I didn't get to finish that sentence before blinding pain ripped through me. Everything became indistinct; vision tunneled; I could barely hear anything, was barely aware that I was screaming.
! God in the name all that is holy make it fucking STOP!
Soon, mercifully, everything faded to black, and I fell into the void of unconsciousness.
...
When I came to, the only thing I could see was black. Something was covering my face. I thrashed around in my restraints, trying to get whatever it was off my face.
"If you want to shake that off and likely go blind," came a female voice, "by all means, keep struggling." I instantly stopped. "Good, you've stopped." the voice said again.
"What do you want with me?" I was feeling hopeless and defeated. Cerberus had me, and now I was going to be used for some sick experiment. I didn't ask for this shit!
"You are going to be the prototype for Project Ares." Gee, way to be informative there.
"I've already been told that. Now, mind telling me what that means?"
"Fine," the voice sounded exasperated. "Project Ares is, basically, designed to create the perfect soldier. Stronger, faster, and better than normal humans."
". . . basically a super-soldier. Fuck."
"Why so ungrateful? This is a great opportunity for you to help Humanity achieve our proper place in this galaxy." Genuinely curious sounding, like she actually believed what she was saying.
I laughed; it was hollow, bitter, and completely lacking in any sort of humour. "Not from my perspective. I was drugged, brought to . . . wherever I am now, and restrained and tortured. Forgive me for not jumping at the 'opportunity,' as you call it. None of this is really helping my view of Cerberus, or humans in general."
"No loyalty to your own species?"
I laughed again. "I lost what little faith I had in humanity when you fuckers tortured me. In my opinion, Humanity is loaded to the brim with entitled pricks, xenophobes, and all-around assholes, and doesn't deserve to lord it over all the other species in the galaxy. Don't try to deny it; that's what Cerberus' goal is, whatever you might think otherwise."
I didn't even give her a chance to protest. "Just leave," I said. "Oh, and in case you had any delusions about this, I would die before I joined Cerberus willingly. I won't let you use me as a weapon to kill aliens. There are a lot them that are better people than humans themselves."
"Humans found the Prothean data-cache on-" she attempted to rally a defense.
"Yeah, us and every other race in the galaxy except the Krogan. So we found some Prothean data on using mass effect tech, big fucking whup. Go away, and tell your boss from me to go fuck himself."
I heard the sound of a chair being pushed back, and a door opening and closing.
So now I am stuck God knows where, for God knows how long, and am going to be experimented on to make me into some living weapon to kill aliens for a megalomaniacal human supremacist organization. And to top it all off, I can't see anything. Great. Just fucking fantastic.
Fuck. My. Life.
A/N: I apologize for being so vague about what that Cerberus guy did, but the idea was to give you an idea of how fucked up he is, to perform unnecessary surgery with basically no anesthesia on a teenager who lipped him off, just to break him down. And for those of you who think the Cerberus guy is one-dimensional and cliche (I know you guys are out there), the point was to make him that way. Anyway, review! They keep authors like myself well-fed, and taste like chicken!