Apocalypse: Origins

Brain

"Who's this fucking idiot you've brought in?" A large man calling himself a police chief leaned back on his chair, eyeballing, through his large mustache, his coworkers who had with them a young man. 

"We found him attacking a person from the compound, never seen him here before," said one of the two lowly officers struggling to keep the angry prisoner subdued. 

"Let's get some light on 'im, eh," the boss grunted, sounding closer to a pig than a human.

The room had been dark, as was everything on the ground anymore.  If you wanted natural light, it seemed, you'd have to get far, far away from here, or anywhere, and get lucky enough not to get Sick.  This young man had been that lucky.

"Fuck.  Let's see here," the fat idiot mumbled as he pulled out a candle and lit the end, illuminating the room.  Fear, sharp painful fear covered the young man's face, and it took all the strength of the two captors to keep him from ruining away.

"Now what the fuck is this boy's problem," grumbled the swine, the light revealing his pink face, "afraid of a little light?"

"No."

The young man, now collected, put down his arrogance enough to speak in a witty yet furious tone:

"And I'd prefer it if you didn't use such vile language."

"Why, you churchy or some shit?" Laughed the officer.

"No," the boy was obviously annoyed that someone would even think such an accusation, "I couldn't care less about that.  That language is simply just unnecessary, not to mention it makes you look uneducated.  More than you already are."

"The fuck you say boy," the chief growled, boiling with anger that was never controlled. The fellow police felt this coming, for no one provoked the chief

"Sorry, I thought that joke would just go over your head," smirked the prisoner.  The two policemen were now breaking a sweat, how could such a lowly brat dare talk in such a way to their commanding officer?

"You better watch your fucking tongue, boy," the slob poked the candle he was holding at the prisoner.  Because of this, the boy was hushed, eyeing the flame with the fear of a child. 

"Gotta name, son"

The prisoner's eyes, pointed and sharp, almost knifelike, met those of the dull chief. The boy smiled.

"Brain," he smirked. This was the only name he knew, and this the boy took pride in.

"They atta call you Mouth," growled the cop, "Why the fuck do they call you 'Brain', anyway, got a real name?"

"No. They call me Brain because my head makes up for that of idiotic Police Chiefs, then again with the size of that face there has to be something good inside."

The two officers saw it coming, that comment was the straw that broke the camel's back.  It was a wonder that the chief didn't burn down the compound seeing how much he flung around the candle in rage.

"You are messing with the wrong fucking person!" Yelled the gargantuan blob.  It didn't take much longer than that for a cell to be arranged for Brain to stay in, he'd be there for a long time. 

"I'm barley fourteen you idiots!  You can't do this to me!"  Brain hollered from his cell, much to the entertainment of the warden. This constant shouting soon got the attention of Brain's cellmate, a giant bulk of muscle hidden in the corner. 

"What the fuck are you yelling about?" Came the deep voice, much to the annoyance of Brain. 

"Will you idiots please use a more distinguished vocabulary! It makes you all sound like fools.  Then again, you are all fools especially you, hunk," Brain's small finger pointed across the room to the behemoth to which he shared a bed. 

"Yeah you, tough guy.  Unless you inferior brain isn't calculating what I'm saying!" The boy was fuming, infuriated at this whole situation.

However, Brain had to eventually pay for his comments, for the next day, he had a broken arm and had almost bled to death in the cold stone prison floor.  This was life now, though to Brain, it was a break.