Blog

Rebirthing.

"Vitals?"

"Stable."

"He needs to be awake."

"He will be."

--

It's cold. Something hard and cold is weighted on his chest. The chains are unnecessary for both, but the trauma of watching his brother's head explode caused a panic. He can't keep himself from screaming, even still crying out as anesthesia takes its hold. When he finally fell silent, that's when they strapped him in, locking him down to probably the most uncomfortable chair he's ever been in. He's never spent time outside of The Facility, but he's dreamed of finally just being let go and free to do what he wanted. When the tests were done he prayed for negatives. But unfortunately for him and his brother, both of them were positives.

"State your name, date of birth, and place of birth."

"Fuck you."

"Shaw, the faster you help us, the faster you get to go," the doctor he's been speaking to is a young man, slightly younger than he is, fresh out of medical school. His brother runs the place despite not even being a scientist. What remains of Project Rising Spirit and the Psiot Initiative is just this group now. Shaw was just unlucky with being born here, his mother and father both working on the program. It was his hope that maybe, JUST maybe, his parents wouldn't subject him or his brother to the experiments.

He was wrong.

"Shaw Durand. November 8th. Mars City."

"Nationality?"

"Canadian."

"Martian, but it counts, I guess," the doctor shrugs. He's protected by a thick wall of glass that separates him from his patient where he's strapped into the machine giving him plenty of room to watch. Shaw struggles under the restraints, looking a little worse for wear as the anesthetic wears off. They want him to feel this. He doesn't know if it's just part of the process, or if it's just cruelty.

"Eye color?"

"Blue."

"Hair color?"

"Why are you asking mundane questions?"

"It's good for you to have a basis to remember when the procedure is over."

"Good that'll do me when my brain is on the wall."

"It wont happen this time," the doctor responds. "I know it wont. Age?"

"Twenty Nine."

"Are we ready?" He seems to lose interest in Shaw now, turning to his colleagues. A big man in glasses nods, while a female scientists lists off some data that just doesn't make sense to Fick. In reality, he's lost interest, and is back to resigning to the fate that's laid out before him: he's going to die. His head's gonna explode. He wont be activated. He knows it. It'll be just like-

"Ready?"

"Wait!" Shaw's eyes go wide. They barely gave him any time to prepare, and they're already moving on with the procedure. "Wait wait wait, hold on! I'm not ready!"

"Calm down Shaw," but he's not calming down. He can't. Not when that needle like machine is moving to point directly at his forehead.

"No, no, nononono," he trails off in a chorus, struggling  out of his restraints.

"The machine will work. Try to relax-"

The minute the machine hums to life, time stops. A searing, flaming pain builds under Shaw's skin as he feels his brain rattle in his skull. His fists clench as some strange humming soon fills the void of silence. There's no beam of light. Really, there's nothing. Not anything he can see. But he feels it. The pain ebbs into some strange warm sensation as Shaw's eyes glow an incredible gold, lighting up under his eyelids and causing light to pour out of his nose and ears. His body gives into the sensation, and for just a moment, he feels like he's flying, and that everything is complete.

He feels...

Complete.

--

"Dr. Stanchek?"

"His vitals are...normal. All across the board."

"Did it work?"

"It looks like it worked."

"If only Dr. Steinholtz could see what we can do now. "

"Wasn't he a Nazi?"

"He was still a great doctor. Without him, this wouldn't have been possible."

"What are we gonna do with him now?" The third man, the one with glasses, pipes up.

"To the facility. We have more to activate. The technology is back. We need to make use for it."

--

It's cold. He can feel the cold. He can feel the voices, too. Ones beyond his own. And that terrifies him.

What's going to happen now? He thinks silently as he stars at himself in the mirror of the quarantine cell they placed him in. He feels like someone new, complete with soft golden eyes that replaced his formerly blue ones. They said his powers will come shortly. He doesn't know how to feel about that. Frankly, he doesn't know how to feel about any of this, or what to do.

Manipulation, they said, after a round of tests. That's when they even assigned him a codename like the psiots of old.

Fiction.

He likes it. It works with the gimmick, since his powers have only activated so far by paper and spoken word. But they weren't impressed. And he has no idea how that will effect his future.

If he even has one.

From the looks of it, that might be a resounding....no.

--

End of Part 1

Email me when people comment –

You need to be a member of Writer's Realm - Roleplay to add comments!

Join Writer's Realm - Roleplay