Ingect

CH 2 HELLFIRE

Alive? They wanted us dead. All of us. The 'poor'. It was a nation against itself, literally the rich versus the poor. He cuffed my blood covered hands, and led me down the hallway. Nobody has ever been to the doctor room, no inmates anyways.

We exited the building, where people were lined up for the five o'clock exicution.

Gunshots rang out. Shells fell to the floor. Lifeless, bloody bodies slumped to the ground. A baby cried out. Wait- a baby?! I was getting so soft. This was the usual. Everyday. No need to cry, my turn to die was soon.

We arrived at the doctor room in ten minutes, and I gasped. The doctor room was so... Interesting. It was completely white, save the colored liquids on the shelf.

"And what do we have here?" I heard a voice ask. The Doctor.

"I stabbed my hand with a pen," I retorted. I giggle. It's funny, it really is.

"Let me see the wound..." He trailed off, grabbing my left hand gingerly. What he saw must have been ultra-amazing, because he gasped.

"Whaaat?" I whined. The sedatives were starting to wear off now, thankfully.

"How large was the pen?" He asked, curiosity evident across his usual I'm-a-virgin, sad look.

"Um..." I held up a centimeter large hole, that I made with my thumb and pointer finger. "... Yay big?" I stuttered.

"That's... Impossible. Impossible. Clearly the pen only pricked you. The hole is much too..." This was getting really annoying.

"Are you going to tell me what the fuck is wrong with me, or do I have to beat it out of you?" I growled.

He flinched away from me, but still persisted, "What is your name?" Simple enough question. None of his business. He opened his clipboard.

"Why should I tell you?" I whispered, with a cocky smile.

"Because I require it." He noted something down in his notebook.

"Larry Conrad," I said, and loudly in fact.

"Your real name please..." He trailed off.

I sighed. Doctors were annoying. "Mossi Black," I said in a low voice.

He fell back, the table supporting him. "A bullet couldn't kill you? You son of a bitch. You were exterminated. I saw your body!" He screamed. My completely straight face probably scared him more.

Dead? Me, dead? This guy was a joke. I've never been shot before, only because I could dodge bullets. Literally, too. But this was out of the line, he had a look of pure fear plastered on stubbled, tan, freakishly high cheekbones. His blue eyes were quivering, looking at my face, staring at one eye, then the other. Like he was seeing a ghost. All he saw in me was... Wow, I had already forgotten what I look like. The conveniently propped up mirror informed me.

My hair was past my waist, by now. My eyes were completely black, except the white was white. My lips were full, and dark on one side. I lifted my hand to my face, and pulled it away covered in blood. I must have cut my lip.

I turned back to the Doctor. "So... I'm dead? That's it?" I gave a small grin, "That's not too bad. Really. You have no idea what I can survive."

He looked at me, and whimpered, "But your dead."

"Ok, when did I 'die'?"

"You two weeks old." That threw me off. Two weeks? Coming from a doctor? Something was wrong. I grabbed a gun that the guard left there by accident. Yes, completely by 'accident'. If I'm dead, I'm no more trouble. Give me a gun, I kill others, then they shoot me. Simple. Unless, if course, I were to shoot them before they return the favor.

I wasn't wanted by them. I, Mossi Black, will shoot these sons of bitches until dead. Starting with the stupid, slow, Lying Doctor. It's good to know your hated sometimes.

I held the gun out and covered my face with my forearm, before firing. The small specks of blood on my arm easily wiped off on the Doctors lab coat. Nobody liked him anyways.

"You know that was my top doctor," a new voice ventured out, like a arm in a pitch black room full of spiders. Mishmish.

"He lied. He died. He didn't cry, but he peed himself." I said. I already knew this dark room by heart. But there where still the annoying spiders. Little bumps in the road, they are.

Misha chuckled lightly. He actually had a small sense of humor. Amazing. I turned around, and looked him in the eye. He was two inches away.

"Lets go, ye ol' son o' a bitch." I said, but not before grabbing his arm, and leading him outside, where I lethally had a machine gun I savaged from the Doctors room. The outcome was spectacle. I had the biggest grin in years.