Profile:
CLASSIFIED INFORMATION
Name Given: Ohm
Age: 19
Behaviour: Low
Status: Mute
Genetic Stated Power: Mastermind Telekinesis
Unusual trait: Eye colour / emotion status.
Class: 1/1M. Rare.
Testing Needed.
Tears streamed down the young boy's face as he entered the living room. He wasn't expecting to witness what he had. He felt as if it was a figment of his dark imagination, but when he felt the sticky substance of blood and the cool, sharp metal of the knife with the cheap plastic cover, he knew this wasn't a nightmare. Police sirens could be heard in the distance as he pulled on his sleeve. Wiping away tears while staining his face with blood. The ear-piercing siren was almost at the house when the boy had a complete breakdown. He ran upstairs to his room and locked himself in there. He had limited places to hide.
He surveyed his surroundings. Closet, too obvious. Under the bed, bad idea. Under the natural-looking blanket with a chair, too classic.
Suddenly, he heard the door downstairs being kicked down. Shouts of 'Breach' could be heard.
Fear pooled through his veins, quickly hiding in the closet. The fastest way, he thought. Soon enough, he heard his door being banged on.
"Open up! We know you're in there!"
The boy tried to calm his rapidly raising anxiety as his breaths became uneven and small hiccups could be heard. The door finally broke down as 4 heavily-armed FBI members entered the room.
"Search it."
Came a stern, hushed voice. One of them opened the closet and we're shocked at the sight of a boy crying in a fetal position. The strong man pulled him up and the boy seemed to get more frightened.
"Hey kid, who are you?"
"M-my par-rents are d-down stairs..."
He couldn't face the scene again. The guy huffed and pulled the boy's arms away from his face.
"Look at me, kid."
Terrified, the boy opened his eyes to be met with wide open ones. The guy dropped the boy as he backed off.
"He... he's one of them!"
The men restrained the boy as the guy who talked to the boy leaned down.
"Here kid, have this, you'll need it where we're goin'."
"Where ar-"
"Don't worry kid, a safe place. For you."
The boy put on the mask he was given, and he unmistakeably heard the guy mutter something along the lines of,
"Or they should call it a torture centre..."
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YOU ARE READING
Different - MaskedMexican
FanfictionRyan was 8 years of age when his parents were hunted down and murdered. They were hunted because they had something that was meant to be contained. That was meant to be put in a training facility, formally known as 'The Centre'. The Centre contained...
