The Tales of Flesh and Blood

The Mini Metal-Fist

I woke up to the sounds of my stomach grumbling and a strange burst of energy that had me aching for a run. I narrowed open my eyes, confused, staring at my fingers as they brushed over soft white blankets. The first thing that came to mind was that six-eyed thing sitting down next to me as I struggled to move. I briefly recalled the counselor and nurse that had sent me off to pulling the fire-alarm at school and closed my eyes. Did I finally hit the loony bin? Everything after the fire-alarm incident was a blur.

Panicked, I scrambled out of bed, my heart increasing its rate to match up with the sudden surge of adrenaline that shot throughout my body. I nearly fell over myself until my back hit a wall, and it took me a moment, staring around at the room, for me to realize that I wasn't locked up.

Which meant that the bit with Jaxon leading me down to a bunker was true, at least. I still wasn't quite sure about the deal with Frenice and the six-eyed monster-dude with the hair, though. Holy hell, what happened yesterday?

Biting my lip, I walked over towards the bathroom to examine myself in the mirror above the sink. As expected for not drying it before I went to bed, my hair was a mess, with pieces of white strands sticking out on all sides, but the dark circles beneath my eyes that I had become accustomed to for the past couple of weeks were . . . well, fading. Almost nonexistent, as if I had done the weird cucumber-slice technique women were popular for at salons overnight.

And then my gaze caught on my neck. I raised my chin to get a better view. Just like the circles beneath my eyes, the bruises were not completely gone, but they were not as terrible as before, either.

"How long was I asleep?" I muttered beneath my breath. My stomach growled again, breaking me from my thoughts. I could not recall the last time I ate, but then again, I was also a bit skeptical about what was real and what I could have dreamt. No doubt, I pulled the fire-alarm and met up with Frenice. The trip with Jaxon also happened, hence why I was currently where I was at now.

It was what happened in between it all that was setting my nerves on end, and one look at my fading injuries was enough to persuade me to come back to it later. I needed to talk with Frenice again, now that my head no longer felt like it was going to explode.

But first, to find some food.

Slipping on my worn and torn shoes, which looked terribly out of place in comparison to my set of clean clothes, I eased my way out of the room and into the long hallway I had walked a few hours prior. I wished I had a watch. My phone had died long ago, and I didn't think enough through to remember my charging cable cord. Oh well. It wasn't like I used the thing too often, anyway.

I found the kitchen area Jaxon had talked about before I had gone to bed. Standing in the doorway, it was hard to say what caught my attention first: the boy playing with a couple of toy cars on the white tiled floor, or how incredibly sci-fi-looking the kitchen appeared to be. Everything was made of a smooth white material, and everything just seemed so bright. The room was large enough to fit in a couple of classrooms, and there were several tables scattered throughout the floor. I felt whoever designed the kitchen got their aspiration from freaky-clean mental asylums crossed with outer-space tech that only the aliens knew existed.

And it was damn cold, too.

Feeling far too dirty to be stepping on such a clean floor, I shuffled further into the room, eyeing the odd cabinets and pantry on the other side. It looked like the furniture was made out of very thin layers of glass painted white, like marble. There was a single sink, oven, and fridge all lined up next to each other on the wall to my left, but after realizing that the sink did not have any knobs to turn the water on, I decided against my urge to explore. No doubt, it was sensory-based, and I was already feeling centuries behind on technology in general. I barely knew how to work my phone. Automatic hand-dryers still unnerved the shit out of me. I wasn't in the mood for a reminder of how far behind I was with the times.

"Jaxon, you're a fucking nerd," I muttered beneath my breath, turning my attention on the boy playing with his toy cars. Oddly enough, he was sitting in between a couple of tables on the floor, his back facing me. He was wearing a plain white shirt and black sweats, like me, and judging by how small his frame was, I guessed him to be about six, maybe seven. A mop of black hair covered his head. I watched his knobbly elbows jerk back and press forward as he crashed the cars together, making noises to go along with his play.

Who was he, and why was he here? Why was he on the floor? Did Jaxon have a brother, or was this a little brother to one of his friends?

Well, whoever he was, he was too absorbed in playing car-car-crash to notice me. Sighing, I stepped forward to make my way over to the large pantry on the wall in front of me, hoping that I didn't have to try to cook myself anything to eat.

And then my stomach let out the loudest complaint I've ever heard in my life. Movement from my peripheral vision caused me to whip around to face the boy, who shot straight to his feet. No sooner had I looked down at his face did I struggle to figure out who was screaming the loudest; him, or me. I tried taking a step back, only to stumble and fall over one of the tables. The boy, still screaming, decided to chuck one of his toy metal cars at me, and I barely raised my arms in time to shield my face from the blow.

I scrambled off the table and threw myself behind a chair for better coverage. Meanwhile, the boy was still screaming from the top of his lungs. Out of ammo, he kept fumbling with his hands until his body started to shake, and he made do with digging his fingers into his hair.

Meanwhile, I couldn't stop staring at his face. There was something strangely familiar about his face, if I managed to look past all the scars and bruises. He looked as if someone had recently gone to town on taking their fists to his head, and he was missing his right ear completely.

He kept screaming, staring at me with wide, tear-stained eyes that were -

They were the same shade of violet as mine.

Oh shit, is he one of them? The kids that've been getting snatched?

As soon as I thought it, Jaxon came sprinting down the hall. The boy must have seen me glance over his shoulder, because he briefly glanced at the open doorway, then did a double take. Jaxon was barely in the kitchen when the boy went charging at him, terrified, and wrapped his thin arms around the guy's leg.

"Hey," Jaxon said, winded, craning his neck to spot me out as he bent down to properly pick up the boy. Metal Fist here didn't exactly stop screaming; instead, he buried his face (runny nose and all) on Jaxon's shoulder and clung to him like a frightened kitten. "What's going on?"

My own legs wobbling beneath me, I gripped my fingers around the top of the chair I had been using to shield myself to help me stand.

"Funny, I was going to ask the same thing," I retorted.

"I'm sorry," I heard the boy sob, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Holy fuck, just hearing the terror and shame in that poor boy's voice was almost enough to get me to start crying, too. I shook my head to clear away the sudden rush of emotion.

"Shh, it's okay," Jaxon soothed. "She's a friend."

"I know, I know," the boy replied, but he tightened his grip around Jaxon's neck, nonetheless. "I know, I'm sorry."

Coming in behind him, I saw the redhead from yesterday step in beside Jaxon.

"Here, I can take him," the redhead said, glaring at me all the while. Jaxon gave his friend a wary look before bending to set the boy down.

"Hey, bud, wanna go see my toy car collection?" the redhead asked enthusiastically. "I might even let you take one again, if you can best me in naming them."

The boy, sniffling, wiped his nose with the back of his hand before nodding his head. Without so much as looking back at me, he took the redhead's hand, leaving just as fast as they came. Only Jaxon remained, while I still stood dumbfounded where I was at.

What the hell.