Project: Hero

Chapter two

I wake up and everything hurts, it's as if I've taken on a tank. My head throbs and feels like it's made of concrete, I give up trying to lift my head as a wave of dizziness floods me. I can't feel my limbs unless I move them, than the pain shoots through the muscles.

I keep my eyes closed, I can hear something dripping above me. It's steady and even, smelling faintly of rust and copper. The liquid doesn't hit me and it's surprise that has me prying my eyes open.

I'm lying on a hard pallet with a thin blanket thrown over me. The air here is cold, but almost artifical, and it smells of nothing but bleach. The strong smell doesn't quite cover the smell of blood.

My heavy coat has gone and the hairs on my arms stand on edge. Before waking up here I never wore short sleeves, and my jeans feel different on my legs. The scratchy blanket makes my bare feet itch.

Growing increasingly worried and confused, I kick the blanket off. It falls to the stone floor with a muffled thump that I shouldn't have heard, leaving me lying on the bed. I move so my back's against the wall.

My new position allows me to see down the corridor, the single fading light set in the ceiling more than enough for me to see by. The cold air rushes in and through my thin top.

I look down, my new top is like an old-fashioned hospital tunic and the reason my jeans feel different is that they aren't there. I'm wearing thin sweatpannts that are too big for me. They are so clean and white they seem to glow against the dark of the cell.

My left wrist burns and I look at it. It's never burned like this since it appeared one day. The blue crescent tattoo that was there before has been replaced with a violet one. I know what that means. I'm no longer 'untested', probably just starting to be tested on. Blue marks mean we have some powers but different colours mean our powers are stronger and personalised.

It also means we've been tested on. I sigh and stare at my wrist. It's clean and so is the rest of me. Despite being contained in a small cell, awaiting who-knows-what, I feel overwhelming and unexplained happiness that for the first time in years I am not covered in dirt.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" I ask. My voice sounds hoarse, like it hasn't been used in a long time.

I don't expect an answer so when I do hear one it's a surprise. The voice is male and lightly accented. Going by his voice he sounds about my age, maybe a year or so older, "well, well. Sleeping Beauty is awake."

"Who?" I ask confused. The way he says it is a cross between a joke and a name. "Is that me?"

My cell mate is hidden in the dark so I can't see his face but his voice sounds vaguely amused as he answers, "You're the only one who was asleep in the middle of the day."

My eyes go wide, it was dark when I got caught. Then they narrow, "who are you? Tell me, was I alone when I came in?"

"The name's Sergio," he answers, the slight pause in answers allows me to place the accent. It's Latino. "I didn't see anyone with you."

I chew on my lip nervously, I'm sure there was someone with me. I shake my head to clear it as footsteps can be heard at the end of the corridor.

I can't see Sergio but I still know when he tenses up. Something in the air around us changes.

The sound of the footsteps is almost uniform but my ears pick out the sounds of someone not quite in time with the rest. At the end of the corridor the light is blocked by a squad of well-built bodies, their eyes reflecting some of the light back.

Beside me Sergio's breathing comes in short pants, as if he's trying to keep away fear or keep a temper under control. I think it's the latter, something about Sergio strikes me as the type not to feal fear.