Marcid

Forty-Three - Zeke

Zeke stared at the wall. He kept looking back at the walls surrounding him. They were a clean-white color, ties decorating the walls everywhere. The floors were tiled as well. Everything seemed to be tiled, and white.

The guards never let him out of the room, or even a scientist. He didn't know why. He should be 'working' right now. Working to strengthen his abilities. It was all he did in the lab. He barely got any sleep in the lab. Zeke always had to stay up later than the other experiments, because he showed 'promise.' He didn't show promise. His gift was simple and could only do so much. He could float objects, and people, and more things. He still had several things to learn. The scientists never truly taught him how to master it. They taught him how to overexert himself again and again. They said that it would help with achieving more skills in the field of his abilities. He never understood why they called his powers 'abilities.' They were the same thing. It wouldn't harm anyone to call what he had the galactically obvious: powers. Kory's powers were much cooler, anyhow. He couldn't die. Ophelia's powers intrigued him. She could produce ice from her hands. Zeke always pondered on the thought that she could be in pain while using her powers. Did it hurt when she broke off the cuffs Raymond had on? He never thought to take a close look at her hands; to see if she had any sort of scars on there from pushing her powers to her limits. She probably had some sort of protective layer on her palms. It didn't sound realistic.

The doorknob of the room jiggled, catching Zeke's divided attention. Keys jangled from behind the door, before the lock clicked. The door opened with a sense of ease. He didn't know that a door could be so relieving to him. A soldier walked in. He wore a black tactical uniform, his face concealed by the balaclava over his head. He also wore a tactical helmet. A rifle was slung over his torso. He had a name tag sewed onto his left-breast area. Hansen. Zeke shifted back into the corner more, his heart starting to race. A scientist quickly shuffled inside as well. He looked old, at least in his sixties. His hair was graying, yet he still had a full head of hair. It was curly. Just like Kory's. He wore a lab coat, and white-button-up shirt and black slacks underneath. He wore loafers for shoes, and black socks. The man had brown skin, and black-colored eyes. He was cleanly shaven. Zeke thought that he might have shaved recently: perhaps even a couple of hours ago. The soldier kept a stiff stance, his eyes the only thing that were visible. His lashes were dark, and his skin was a pale ivory. His eyes were a colored amber. The scientist spoke up. "We're very glad to have you back home, D-278." His voice had a slight British accent to it, though it nearly relaxed Zeke to finally hear a voice that isn't demanding. "I know your last home was a bit...rocky, at the end. But I assure you that your safety is our top priority in here. Just follow the rules, and don't defy the adults. I'm very grateful to finally meet you." The scientist smiled. "You caused quite a stir in your temporary leave. I understand that everyone had suddenly..." The scientist looked down at a clipboard he had been holding. "Collapsed? And their blood pooled around them." He frowned, looking back at Zeke. "That must have been terrifying to witness. You'll be safe and sound here."

"Where's Kory?" Zeke inadvertently spoke up as he sluggishly sat up properly. "Is he okay?"

The scientist's face contorted into a look of skepticism. "Kory?" He looked down at the clipboard, flipping over a page. "Ah. You mean Z-718. He is fine. Though he's not important right now—"

"He's important to me." Zeke interrupted. "Where is he? Can I see him soon?"

"Not important," the scientist emphasized, taking a step closer to Zeke. "Don't worry about him right now. You shouldn't have to, anyhow. You're a boy." He muttered the last part, letting out a quiet sigh. Zeke offered no reply other than a shocked scowl. He leaned back into the corner once more, relieving himself of the stiff posture he forced himself to obtain for the two older men facing him. "I see here that a girl your age was with you. A-155. What about her?" The scientist's stare continued to look innocent, as if he hadn't done a wrong thing in the world. He was working here, of all places. He was full of wrong. Zeke felt his bottom lip tremble at the mention of Aaliyah. Her 'experiment name' felt too sacred to be mentioned. Or the mention of her, overall.