So I love writing fanfictions but I dont generally finish them if you guys haven't noticed. So in this book I will be writing short stories/ imagines. It will include: Matt Smith, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Shawn Spenser, Damon Salvatore, Pete...
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Darkness.
I struggle to open my eyes, but they are sealed shut.
Restraints.
I try to break free, but I can't move.
Fear.
My spirit was awake, but seemingly distant from my body.
Is this death?
Voices.
Footsteps.
Growing nearer by the second.
I try to make out what is being said, but the language is foreign.
German.
Pain.
My eyes snap open.
A man leans over me, holding an empty syringe. His dark beady eyes examined me. "Sie ist Wach."
"Gut," his tall companion says, "State your name."
The sudden transition to English startled me, but not as much as the fact that I could not answer his question.
"Did you not hear me, fraulein?" He questions, his voice firm, "I asked for your name."
"I-I don't know," The sound of my own voice was new. A soft, full voice, unlike the harsh thick voices of my captures.
"Gut." He says once more, "Where do you come from?"
Again, I could not answer his question. I didn't know anything. My name. My home. My family, if I had one. "I don't know."
"Gut....gut..." He turns towards his companion, who sneers down upon me, "Ihre Arbeit ist effizient. Sie wird gut tun. Ihre Aufhebung."
My restraints are removed.
"Get up." The tall one, who I assumed to be the leader, ordered.
Slowly, I pushed myself to a sitting position and examined my surroundings. I appeared to be in some sort of lab,for tables filled with equipment lined the room. I assumed I was underground for the stone walls were lined with mildew and the air was thick and moist. Light bulbs attached to visible wires hung from the low ceiling, casting little light upon my surroundings. At the far wall of the room were two pod-like constructions, glowing a hue of blue. And in the middle of the room, was something that sent shivers up my spine. A metallic chair, seemingly built for one purpose, human torture. But what scared me more, was the man in the chair.
Long dark hair, almost black, hung around his angular face. His muscular chest was bare and glistened with sweat. Metal restraints were latched around his legs and arm, for where his other should have been was merely a stub wrapped with gauze. What had these people done to him? Did he know who he was, or had he been brainwashed as I had been?
"You must be wondering why you are here." The commander surmised, "You are to work for us now. Create the formulas for our...experiment." He spat the last word at the man in the chair, though he showed no sign of hearing him. I wondered if he was even conscious. "And if you don't..." the commander continued, he turns once more towards me, "Well, he will kill you." He nods his head in the direction of the prisoner.
Fear filled my entire being. Questions crowded my mind. Where was I? Why was I here? Who was I? What had I done to be taken here?
All I knew was that I had to work for these horrible men or I would be killed.
--
I must have been a scientist in my previous life, for I knew what I was doing. All of the equipment was familiar to me and I had no doubt that I could do what was asked of me. Not that I had a choice.
