by M A Scrawl
"Computer," he said at the screen. "Locate Katy, number oh-three."
A loading symbol popped up, and after a few seconds it loaded to a new screen showing katy's exact location as a green dot. The screen glitched, losing the signal making the dot disappear, then it appeared again a little further down the hall. That was a sign of her teleportation, the computer having lost the signal for a brief moment.
Kadir saw where she was headed and burst down the hallway, turning to the left. Quentin was far ahead of him now. Honestly, Kadir had no idea why he was running so hard, and so worried about leaving Katy alone for a bit. Seriously, was he just doing this to have some excitement on this boring day? In the past, Saturdays and Sundays had been a very relaxing time for the three of them. Right now, however, it seemed that boredom reached them all.
Katy was fast, and she was made faster by the fact that she could teleport, her feet not even touching the ground as she warped 30 feet away. She could go farther and faster than Kadir and his sibling.
Kadir grinned, stopping and sliding down a ladder. He caught Quentin running around a corner ahead of him and he bolted after the metal leg.
-----
Kadir did not expect what he came to. When he arrived in the Office area, he did not expect-well, THIS.
THIS happened to be a large line of pink spray-paint lining the office wall and going over the doors, along with a guilty looking girl holding a spray-paint can. Quentin was next to her, looking with disdain at the paint.
"What is this!?" yelled Kadir, holding his head.
"Katy, what did you do?!" Kadir yelled again, walking up to the walls. He tried to scrub it off with his finger, but it was already dried and stuck to the wall. Kadir groaned, anger flaring inside him.
"Why did you do this!?" Kadir demanded, turning and pointing accusingly at Katy. She threw her hands up in defense, dropping the spray can. Kadir angrily kicked it and turned to the wall, angry.
"We could've escape Katy," Kadir said, the bitter words dripping from his mouth. "I could've made a plan, but YOU decided to do your own thing and RUIN it."
Kadir surprised himself with his outburst. All the anger bottled up inside him came bursting out at this opportunity. Every question unanswered, every bruise thrown onto his body, every sharp fear stabbing through his soul every time he saw something as simple as a needle came shooting out into his body. He tried to keep a hold onto his fury, but his grip was as weak as his ability to protect himself and his siblings.
“Oh, come on Kadir!” Katy exclaimed. “You know just as much as I do how all this feels! I have thoughts and dreams of places with color, but when I look around, nothings there!” Katy calmed down, and looked at the paint on the wall. “This seemed so good. I had a chance to make color to this gray existence, and I took it.” She walked up to the paint. “I rather like pink. Pretty and bright...and nice…”
Kadir groaned, a single tear going down his face. His intense anger shaded into a dampening sadness. He felt glad that the fury had subsided.
He put his hand on Katy's shoulder. "We might just have ruined our one chance of getting out of here Katy," Kadir said sadly. "I know how you feel, but next time try not to do something like-" he gestured towards the wall, "this."
Katy nodded slowly, realizing what she’d done. Kadir backed away. "Well, it's only a matter of time before they find out. I'd rather go straight up to them and confess than be caught red-handed." Kadir sighed, walking away from the wall. His siblings silently followed him, Katy last of all.
-----
They found out alright. By the time Kadir had come up to confess, he'd found a large group of soldiers with dart guns to 'escort' them to Withers. Katy moped along, always in the back, never talking, which was against her personality. Kadir was worried he'd been too hard on her.
It was possible that Withers would forgive them? Maybe? Those thoughts were dashed away when Kadir saw Withers angry face as he sat in his desk.
Kadir went in alone. Why? He knew his sister would have difficulty talking to Withers. It seemed like the honorable thing to do anyways.
He was alone now, no excuses. Withers waited for an explanation, and Kadir gave him one, telling the whole truth, but at the same time taking responsibility for the situation.
When Kadir was done, they lay silent for a while, Withers looking at Kadir with scrutiny. "Kadir," Withers said finally, "I appreciate your honesty, but there are no excuses for what your sister did. There will be consequences, and I'm afraid they involve you staying in the cell for about," he thought for a moment. "Four days."
Kadir maintained eye contact, but desperately wanted to look away. Withers face had a way of making you feel extremely guilty, his entire complexion seeming to say that he was disappointed in you. For whatever reason, this made Kadir feel even worse as Withers lectured him on what he did wrong, why it was wrong, as well as how much he deserved this punishment.
When Kadir came out, his shoulders were bowed, and he sat next to Katy and Quentin, who looked at him, anxious to hear what Withers had said. "We're going to our old cell," Kadir said, watching as Katy's shoulders lowered even further. "I'm sorry, but that's the best I could do."
Kadir smiled faintly. "At least he didn't throw us into the vacuum of space, so that's a plus."
The joke had no effect on his siblings, and Kadirs smile deteriorated as Katy started to tear up again. This is all her fault, a voice inside Kadir said. You should blame her after all.
Kadir ignored the voice and bent down to hug Katy, who, for the first time, didn't wiggle out of it or teleport. Quentin stood sadly, blank face reflecting a small amount of emotion. They all stood there for a moment before the soldiers escorted them to their new home, the prison cell.
-Chapter 32-
-Detainment-
Kadir, Katy and Quentin were escorted to the cell, their clothes and things already having been thrown in. It didn't have a couch, and did not have a kitchen, making the room seem a lot smaller to Kadir. To Katy it must feel like the ceilings and walls were closing in on her, and she sat in the middle of the floor in between the bunks, where there was the most open space.
Katy started sniffling, looking at the walls and ceiling with tears in her eyes.
That must feel horrible, Kadir thought, to have freedom given to you and yanked away again.
Kadir knew they would only be in there for a limited time, but that didn't help the feeling of defeat he felt, laying helpless inside this container.
A spark of hope fluttered inside him, much like The Flow.
"Quentin?" Kadir asked, hopeful, "Can you hack your way out of here?"
Quentin looked up, and shook his head, shattering any hopes Kadir had of escaping. "They already upgraded the fire-wall, and changed the whole layout of the code. It would take another week to even glimpse farther past it."
Kadir hung his head, sitting on the bunk, the whimpering Katy before him. "Katy, can you teleport out?" he asked, doubtful. She shook her head, a few tears flying out from her cheeks.
"I-I can't go through objects...If there was a crack in the glass I could...But its airtight..."
Kadir nodded slowly, reluctantly, defeated again. He was hoping maybe he could get his sister out of this torture, but no. He sighed and released The Flow inside him, a few sparks jittering across his skin. He let out just a little, just enough to feel the pleasure of it going through his body, him controlling it like a wave controls a surfer. Something like that…
But today, The Flow held no pleasure, because the thought of failing his sister, and being trapped like an animal in a cage, tainted his thoughts.
-----
Withers was very discouraged today. He had placed those clones in the cell, but what else could he do? He couldn't physically discipline them as they'd already gone through the physical torture. The only thing that he could do to possibly discipline them was to place them in a cell where they couldn't escape.
He hated to do that kind of thing. Training them was one thing,
but disciplining them was not his area of expertise. It was necessary, but that didn't mean he liked it.
Katy had marked seven doors, and the walls in between with spray-paint she'd found in an open storage closet.
He knew Katy would be the most likely to do this, and Withers couldn’t really blame her. The constant grayness of Facility C almost seeded insanity in everyone's minds. That's what the psychological tests were for.
The physical training had been basically abuse for them, but it had gotten easier for them, and they'd gotten over it, right? Maybe the fact that they were never given straight answers when they asked about their past? And the fact that they didn't know they were clones?
Withers sighed, examining a sheet of paper in front of him. A resource drop was going to come today, dropping off a few choice items, such as new clothing for the growing children, more food, more water, and more medical equipment. Withers had to verify why he needed every single item in detail, proving he knew what he needed and didn't forget anything.
The resource-shuttle would be here in about four hours, and he wouldn't have to do anything, as workers would carry it out to the proper places in the ship. He didn't need to worry about it, and it was one of the easier things he oversaw in Facility C.
Today, he'd find out it wasn't so easy.
-Chapter 33-
-Hate-
Hate.
Hate could fuel a person's energy over a short period of time, flaring through that person like a match to gas. An explosion of heat and anger flares through the person's veins, adrenaline coursing through them much like The Flow, forcing them to do something, often making them choose irrational decisions.
People with short tempers could flare up on anger easily, but Hate is often what starts anger, the Hate the fire, and Anger the fuel. Hate could start the blaze of Anger in a person, which, if maintained, turns into Bitterness.
And Bitterness can last for years, even decades.
Tundra had Bitterness towards Sahara, who he blamed for 'forcing' him to make the 'rational' choice and be an outcast from the government. That Hate for Sahara made him hate the role of Overseer, everything in Facility C, as well as the government itself.
This broiling heat inside him that had been festering inside him for so long had cracked his mind. There remained a genius, but a hate-driven genius who hated anything but himself, only caring for his own well-being. He now did anything for himself, his twisted logic blaming Sahara for his current position.
Alexander Tundra did not associate with his brother, Christopher Tundra as a brother, but rather a person who had a knife at his throat and would pull at any moment that he did not do what he wanted. And what Chris wanted, were clones.
Unfortunately, the clones had been lost due to the plain idiocy of Christopher's mercenaries who had pulled him back when he could've gotten them. If he did not get those clones back, he would not be able to sell them to his brother and receive money and resources to protect himself from the government.
But he couldn't get the clones alone. So, as much as it ailed him, he had to bribe Caheel to inside him into Facility C. Tundra had done his homework, researching almost every person in Facility C’s history, trying to figure out who was the person that would say 'yes' to a million dollars to betray their government.
He had landed dead-on with Caheel. A history of a poor upbringing suggested an obsession with money, and a bad track record along with great capability was exactly what he needed to get into Facility C. He would sneak into the resource shuttle landing on Facility C. That was easy enough, he just had to bug the system with a faint glitch to make the system ignore him and the mercenaries.
Then came the tricky part, after the few hours of travelling in the shuttle, the shuttle would deck with Facility C and men would come to unload the resource crates. They would notice Tundra of course, unless Caheel did as he was told and cleared a way for him to enter Facility C without a scratch.
For now however, Tundra was content to sit and wait, the hate broiling over his body, and the screams still continuing in his mind.
-Chapter 34-
-The Crucial Moment-
Caheel walked down the halls, urgency in his step. People went past him, glancing up to see a man in a S.S.S. outfit with full gear on, a green bandana on his head, and a gun in his hand. They shrugged off any feelings of doubt or worry about seeing an S.S.S. like this. They saw S.S. Soldiers all the time.
Caheel made it to the Resource Deck and entered a code onto the wall, placing his hand on the wall to verify himself, and another one to verify he knew what he was doing.
A screen came up, showing the halls of Facility C. He grinned, and pressed on the hall between the Resource Drop Deck and the Soldier Barracks. He pressed a few more, limiting his access to other halls by a few. He finished, pressing the button on the bottom left labeled, "Alarm."
A red light went off, and blaring sounded around Facility C. Caheel heard sharp clangs as the block-doors in the halls closed. Those doors were designed to block off ventilation from other halls, possible threats, and other things. They were titanium, and covered the entirety of the hall, being airtight, watertight, and gun-resistant. Any S.S. Soldier could access the panels around Facility C and make the walls close around Facility C to block off potential threats.
They were told to NEVER, EVER do this unless they absolutely needed to. The doors couldn't be opened, even by the Overseer. They could only be opened after a two-hour period has passed, and the Overseer has given the consent to open them.
They were never intended to benefit a terrorist.
The S.S.S. men looked around nervously at the red lights and the blaring. They were supposed to be guarding this deck and the resource drop.
One of them noticed Caheel over by the panel. "Hey Caheel!" He yelled, running up to him. "Why did you-"
Caheel raised his gun and fired at the man's arm, a dart embedding itself into the mans muscle. He staggered, then fell, completely sedated. Caheel shot him a few more times to make sure.
The other men threw into a panic, each one throwing up their guns clumsily, trying to see if the man that had talked to Caheel was alive. They hadn't seen Caheel shoot him, and didn't know who had done it.
Caheel picked them off easily, shooting at them until there was silence in the Resource Deck, except for the blasting sound across the speakers. Caheel went over to the panel and turned off the sound, silencing the screaming whoops that echoed through Facility C.
He went over to the airlock and used an unconscious man's hand to open it.
The men inside lowered their guns at him, but didn't fire, recognizing that the green bandanna he was wearing meant he was the one who had helped them. That didn't keep them from staring at him nervously and keeping their guns pointed at him.
Caheel flipped out his Military knife as a man exited the shuttle wearing black pants and a shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He held an automatic rifle in his hand, although he obviously had no idea how to use it. He held it in one hand, pointed towards the ground. He had a light beard, and a scar on his cheek.
"Caheel," Tundra said, gesturing with his gun. "Have the Overseer and his assistant be requested to the Resource Drop Deck. I sure hope you left the ventilation doors open enough so that they could come through.
Tundra smiled at Caheel like he was an obedient dog Tundra had on a leash. In truth, he kinda was, except the leash was the mercenaries guns, and the treat Tundra was leading him with was a Million Dollars.
-----
Withers was sitting back in his desk, finally finished with the daily paperwork. He smiled faintly. He'd finished early today, examining the papers as much as he could and filling them out, signing the whole bit.
A penned pile of the papers sat on his desk on the corner, a small paperweight on top of them. Finished early, and he had no idea what to do.
Facility C wasn't exactly built for things to do after work was done, just for doing the work as it came, then doing thi
ngs like eating and sleeping in between.
There was talk of installing another floor to Facility C for entertainment purposes, but that would involve blocking off the last layer as they removed all the windows and did construction for an extended period of time. They would also have to recalibrate the artificial gravity to accommodate the larger structure, making the huge satellite spin even slower than it was now. Then, it would cost millions of dollars to do so.
So basically, a new layer wasn't going to happen. It would require too many materials, too much money, and too much time taken off just for the sake of people's entertainment.
Withers was relaxed, his hands in his hair as he closed his eyes. He opened them suddenly as the red emergency lights turned on, and the emergency warning sounds started. He stood there, tense as he heard the emergency border-doors clang shut, blocking off some kind of threat in Facility C.
After a while, silence.
He heard a slight insistent beeping on his wrist. Looking at his watch, he saw a request to come to the Resource Drop Deck. Was something wrong?The emergency lights obviously stated something was wrong.
Gathering up himself, he decided he'd better find out what was wrong.
-----
When Withers made it to the Resource Deck, his first glance was that it was empty. No guards were at the stations they were supposed to be at, and nothing else. Kirby was behind him, hurriedly walking along, nervousness spread across her face. They had met in the halls and apparently she'd gotten a requesting as well.
He walked in, and then saw stars as something crashed into the side of his face, knocking him over. Withers blinked away pain and saw a man standing over him, a rifle in hand and a scar on his cheek. He wore all black, and laughed, pointing the gun at Withers chest as other men grabbed Kirby's arms.