A Rush of Blood to the Head

Stand Here Beside Me Baby in the Crumbling Walls

Look who finally got around to posting a new story :P Yayyyyy me

This is an expansion of the drabble Blood Red from my collection, Finding You. You can read it there, though it's not necessary.

Based off the song A Rush of Blood to the Head by Coldplay, featured above for for your listening convenience :)

Hope you enjoy!

---

Their faces were stone, white marbled silence.

Gray tops matches the walls, thin material standing no chance against the ever present chill. It had long since seeped into their bones.

There are six of them. Human lab rats, minds gone. They stare blankly ahead, eyes cold steel.

The Doctor raises his pen to his lip, considering. His eyes are cold, frozen like the wasteland beyond the concrete walls. A small smile twitches at the corner of his lips.

His pen drops back to his clip board, swiping off names as he calls out to the guards stationed on either side of him.

"один,"

A gun shot.

"два,"

Another.

"три,"

The gun snaps in the silence.

She tenses, preparing for the jolt and the the silence.

"пять,"

The  bullet finds its way to a forehead, bone snapping beneath the tissue.

Subject five is dead.

But she is still breathing.

The Doctor's lips curl up crudely. "Congratulations." He speaks cooly to the remains two subjects before him. "You are the victors."

Each nod in turn, stiff and silent in thanks.

"You leave at dawn," he snaps his folder shut, tucking it under his arm. "уволенный,"

She casts a glance to the sandy haired boy as they head to their cells. He can't be older than twenty five, the same as she.

"Tomorrow," she whispers, watching him go through the bars of her door as it clangs shut.

Tomorrow they find out who they become.

---

She's sixteen, wide brown eyes staring up at the university logo imprinted on the arrow pointing toward the office. Her hair is neatly curled, blouse pressed and smile wide.

Her fingers tighten instinctively around the page of paper in her hand. In a few minutes, she will officially be the youngest student on campus.

Hitching her book bag higher on her shoulder, she hurries her pace to the campus office. What she doesn't see is the boy also hurrying on his way, but this time in the opposite direction.

"Oof!"

She's sprawled on her back on the pavement, dazed. Gradually, she comes to realize that the bright blue she's staring up at isn't the sky, rather a pair of eyes. Bright, youthful blue eyes.

"'M sorry,"

She's stunned further for a spilt second from the accent, a thick Scottish brogue paired with a young voice. Too young for the average university student, at that.