I wake up with my cheek pressed to a glass pane dotted with miniscule holes, Everstorm engraved on it. The ground is vibrating under me. I shake my head, trying to fend off remnants of sleep. I stretch out my legs, only for my knees to hit cold glass. My eyes widen as a feeling of claustrophobia hits. Wide awake now, I push and kick (as much as I can) against the walls, to no avail.
“Ah, you’re finally awake.” I look up through the transparent ceiling of my personal little death box. A woman, dressed in a white lab coat and her face riddled with scars, looks down at me and smiles rather creepily. The top of the box only reaches her waist. Glancing around through the walls, I see that she’s the one pushing my prison-on-wheels along through dimly lit metal halls. “Hello, Alexander. I’m Miss Kirkelie, the woman in charge of this fine establishment.” Her smile somehow widens, “But your friend, Ever was it? She might’ve already told you about me. Silly girl, she is. She often likes to call me the Warden for some odd reason. Ring any bells?” Scarface muses. And being the brilliant genius I am, I blurt, “How the heck did you get so many scars?” Kirkelie looks taken aback for a moment then shifts back to her fake, smiley self. “That, my dear boy, is a story for another time. Oh, here we are!” she bumps my glass case, rather roughly, into a pair of doors, pushing through them and into a dim hall lined with viewing windows on both sides.
I press my face up to the right side of the box. The profile of a girl, blonde and strapped to a vertical metal table that ends where her neck starts, struggles behind one large viewing window. A man walks into the room with her, dressed in a pristine lab coat and flaming torch in hand. Kirkelie catches me looking at the room and comes to a halt. “In there, we’re testing the fire-resistance of Subject Eta. She’s a very special young lady with a high tolerance for burning, thanks to Everstorm. Oh! Shhh. Look, the test is about to begin.”
The man steps behind the girl, Subject Eta, and puts the torch to the tips of her hair. She turns to face us. Her shocking ultramarine eyes widen and she starts letting out screams unheard to me and, I assume, to Kirkelie. “The enhancements also depend on the strength of the subject. If they are weak, well, let’s say they finally get their rest from the vigorous work they do. Permanently. But if they are strong, they are accepted into one of Everstorm’s many programs specifically designed for their special ability.” Eta’s golden hair rapidly turns black as the flames climb closer towards her face. I can faintly hear her screaming and the table that she’s strapped to starts to rattle as she thrashes against the bonds on her wrists and ankles. The man in the lab coat stands by, rapidly scribbling onto a clipboard. The flames envelop her head, scorching her face and searing the skin pink, red, then black. She freezes mid-scream and suddenly goes limp, blue eyes wide open and glazed over.
The Warden sneers. “This one was weak. I hope you do not make the same mistake.” She continues on pushing me down the hall. I don’t bother to look into any of the other rooms, fearing witnessing another death. Instead, I look through the back wall, the pane that Kirkelie is pushing. I squint into the deep shadows that bunch up along the metal walls. What? There’s something hiding in them, more specifically, moving in them, following us. A glint of silver, a flash of violet. The shadow moves to the edge of the dim circle of light, ever so slightly revealing Ever’s face. She puts a silver-coated finger to her lips then sinks back into the darkness. Déjà vu.
Kirkelie turns into a side corridor and pushes open a door using her back. She switches on the lights, which are surprisingly bright. I blink rapidly, trying to get rid of the black spots that dot my vision. I’m in an office. A normal-looking office with a long desk in front of me, topped with a computer monitor, loungers pushed up against the left wall and a side table with a vase of tulips against the right. A TV almost as large as the desk is mounted on the wall in front of me. Kirkelie is seated in a plush leather chair behind her desk, holding a remote. I push my back against the back of my cage and scrunch my knees against my chest. Ah, much better. I sigh in relief. No more aching. For now.
The Warden clicks the remote and the TV blinks on. A spacious room is displayed, empty except for a few dozen machines and a girl strapped to a metal table. Multiple tubes connect her to machines crowded around the table. Kirkelie clicks the remote again, and the camera zooms into the face of the unconscious girl. But I know her. Alexa, pale and very closely resembling a dead person. But she can't be dead, right? Her fiery hair has even lost its luster. White hot rage boils within me. “YOU MONSTER!” I slam against the front wall, succeeding in tipping the box over and falling onto the red carpeted ground. I slam my shoulder into the glass above me, over and over and over and over.
“No need to be so rash. Yes, she is indeed gone from the land of the living. But only for about another week or two. It’s not easy to raise the dead, you know.” She walks over to where I’m still beating against the glass and rights the box. Kirkelie sprays something from a silver canister through an air hole in the glass. My muscles immediately go limp, my arms and legs falling to the bottom of the glass prison. I can’t move anything from my chest down. Scarface paralyzed me! I grind my teeth. Kirkelie seats herself back into her chair, crossing her legs. “What,” I say stiffly, “What did you do to her?” She smiles her annoyingly sweet smile. I'd like to smack it right off her face. “Just the same thing that we did to you. Injected you with some enhancing serums and employed radiation to activate them. The only difference was she was weak and you were strong. Her special traits, unlike your identical ones, somehow did not react well to the serum paired with the radiation. The chemicals absorbed the radiation, leaving Alexa radioactive. But don’t worry, dear, she should be safe enough to approach in a few months. Then we can continue testing.” She grins toothily, revealing unnaturally white teeth.
How did I forget that someone exposed radiation to me? Curiosity suddenly replaces my dissipating rage. “As far as I know, we’re just as normal as anybody. There is nothing special about us, so why are we here?” Kirkelie clicks off the TV. “Well, it’s because of your brain cells. Everstorm has done extensive research on the two of you and your neurons multiply faster than any normal human’s, twenty times quicker.” She frowns. “But another mutation, it’s killing off the cells a bit slower than your other mutation regenerates them. That, my dear, is why nobody has found out about your unique attribute, until now.” Well, that’s a lot to take in. She stands and walks to the door behind me. “I’m going to check on your next test. Be a good boy and stay here, now. Oh, wait. I forgot. You can’t even attempt to escape for at least two hours.” She mocks, “Ta-ta!” The door clicks open and a few seconds later, slams shut. That witch. Telling me about how special and dear to her heart I am, showing me my dead sister, and then leaving to plan another torture session that could probably leave me like Alexa and Eta. I’m torn away from my thoughts when the door creaks open. The person walks around my glass box and comes to a stop in front of me, barefoot and frayed dress rustling. My eyes flick up to meet the amethyst gaze of Ever.
