Four

Chapter Two

"Arggg, stupid, stupid, stupid," I muttered to myself, bandaging my leg. Have...to...out...find...Ven, I thought, my thoughts muddled. I finished the bandaging, then started to crawl from the fire and wreckage of the helicopter. Maybe she had gotten cut up in the blades of the copter, I thought. But no, there was no blood on the blades. In the wreckage? But no, I distinctly remember her ejecting herself out of the cockpit as we were falling. I continued to crawl using only my hands, ignoring the pain coming from my leg and multiple scratches all over my body. After crawling a couple hundred feet from the fire, I stopped, sat up, and inspected my wound. Worse than I thought. The gash was pretty long and shallow, but with the grime, ash, and dirt all around me and on the makeshift bandage, it was pretty bad. There was also a shrapnel piece from the side of the copter. I grunted, pulling it out. It took a lot of effort. Then I realized why. Although only the shrapnel was sticking out, there was actually a large piece of metal stuck inside my leg. Ignoring the pain, I pulled the entire piece out and rewrapped the bandage best I could using the program's medical training. Unfortunately, that training also included the scale of severity and signs of when to amputate. My leg had many of them. Ignore it for now. You have to find Seven, a little part of me thought. I decided to listen to it. Deeper into the woods I went, not knowing whether I was crawling towards the academy or Seven. Still, my gut told me this was the right way to go. And the first thing the Achilles Program taught us was to follow your gut. Always. So I continued. Inch by inch, I crawled deeper into the dark forest, leaving a thin blood trail from where my makeshift bandage hadn't completely covered. Then, a shadow appeared in front of me. Groaning, I looked up. A man, in a black mask and clothes, stood in front of me. Then he maneuvered his leg and kicked me in the side. I crumpled, my side screaming. Then, he stomped on my head. Instant darkness.

"Wakey wakey," someone said, splashing my head and shoulders with cold water. I groaned, my head still throbbing. I regained my senses, looking around. I was in a room that looked as if it had been whitewashed. I was chained to a wall, with my limbs pulled to a breaking point. I was still in my black long-sleeved uniform with all my gear. They underestimate me. Good. I reached my right hand into my sleeve and pulled out a long device. My lock-picking material. Instantly, I hid it back in my sleeve. Just had to check it was still there. "Agent Four," a gruff voice said. Hmmm, sounds like a military guy, I thought. I hastened to look up, seeing a tall, well-built man with a black trench coat. Crap, I thought. I recognized the uniform. A Wraith. Still a stupid name, I thought, trying to snap back to full focus. Hmmm, still dazed. They must have drugged me, I thought. Smart. Even with the cold water slowly dripping off my face and splashing onto the floor, I still wasn't at full focus. Only a matter of time. Then the drug would wear off and put these guys in danger. Because then, I could use my lock-pick. Now, however, was not the time. I ran the risk of dropping it. In the process of thinking, I had drooped my head down again. I looked up quickly, seeing annoyance flash across the man's face. Better not do that again, stupid Four, I thought. The other guys are still more stupid. Don't blame me for thinking that. I only state the facts. Such as, these people are idiots. My captors are idiots. The reader is an idiot. Just kidding on the last one. I'm sure you're intelligent. Unless you're one of the Agents from the Achilles Program or one of The Wraiths. Then, you're a complete bonehead. Yeah, I see you. Nitwit. Anyways, I was being questioned by the other Agent. Dimwit, I thought, staring up at the tall man. Jerk-wad, I continued to think. I insult people a lot. Deal with it. He stepped towards me and hit punched me in the face. Swearing rampage time, I thought. That actually kind of hurt. God, I hate this asshat. Meh. Not really counted as a swearing rampage, but close enough. How the heck is he supposed to get any friends if he does this? I thought, trying to make wisecracks. Didn't work? Didn't think so. Meh, whatever. Points for effort while drugged. What the heck is this stuff? It's stronger than usual. As my mind wandered, I completely missed that the man was saying something. "Huh? What?" I asked, trying to look deaf. The man shook his head, then stepped forward and hit me again. Ahhh, what the heck? That was completely unreasonable. He said it again. "Where is the Achilles base?" "Haha arsehole. You'll never know," I responded. He stepped closer and uppercutted my chin. Bad idea, knucklehead. Now I'm fully recovered and a little more than irritated. He pulled back his arm, ready to punch again. I fished the lock-pick out of my sleeve and started to cautiously started to unlock my right shackle while he backed up and gloated for a little while. What an idiot, right? Who gloats while beating someone up? Other than this guy, of course. Right as I finished, he stepped forward again. Bring it, you piece of crap. He hit me again. Haha sucker. Now I'm really pissed. Feel my wrath. Resistance is futile.Then, I swung my hand, which was already turning into a fist, into his big, fat, nose. Good thing we were alone, right? Or was that another futile attempt at sarcasm. Whichever. But one thing was certain. That guy was definitely more pissed than before. A look of utter rage crossed his face as he stepped back, holding his hand over his nose. He rushed forward again. Too late. I was already partly free and lashing out. A moment later, my fist hit his jaw with a satisfying crunch. He dropped to the floor, unconscious. I finished freeing myself. Now to find a way out.