The Detained

[1]

(Okay, so I've finally come back to this, and I'm going to be editing this to my updated style. There'll be a few more ideas and backstory and themes and idea that will be implemented as well. I know at least one person was interested(If you're reading this, hi btw, how are you?) and last night my mind went, "hey, remember this? I do. Get back to it you heathen!" So I'm back. Side note, I haven't looked at this in well over a year, but I'm fairly certain I had this idea when I was watching Jacksepticeye play 'Papers, Please' and yelling "DETAINED!!!")

EDITED

(Unknown POV)

   "So soon? Are you sure?"

   "Not entirely, but we have to try. The longer we wait, the riskier it will become. Now is the best time!"

   "It's early but..." I sigh. "Fine. What do I do?"

   "Good. Encase it in the membrane. Make sure it's snug.

   "We need a host?"

   "One of the captives, of course, but one who could survive the installation."

   I groan. "And incubate E13. And survive that incubation. And not get killed by anything else. And be able to protect it. And not raise certain suspicions from the other captives."

   "We do have a candidate."

I rub my temples, thinking.

   "Who?"

   Rows of sharp teeth are revealed in a sly grin.

   "Our first."

•~<|>~•

(C1 POV)

   It's dark, as usual, and the only working light source flickers constantly in the far corner. I look up at the high chain link fence caging us in, my gaze tracing the excessive amounts of barbed wire as I wonder for the umpteenth time what our purpose was. A part of me wants to try to break out again, but I know this place would fall apart if I did, whether I succeeded or not. I can't let that happen. Not again. There are too many innocent lives here to leave behind.

   I remember when C2 came. We had no idea how to interact with each other, staying on the opposite sides of the field for almost a week before we even spoke a word. Together, we soon put down some ground rules for not only ourselves, but for anyone else who joined is in this hell.

   And plenty did.

   Thirty-seven captives now reside in this one yard, ages ranging from seven to eighty years old. As for me, I'm not quite sure how old am. I was only five when I was tossed like an unwanted doll in this caged yard. How long ago that was, I don't know.

   I do, however, know my species. I am a lombax, a famous race that has saved The Polaris Galaxy many times. At least, according to the tales of the other captives. C2 is a black horned, grey furred, weasel-like race called meskats. He's currently taking the dark shift with a few others to watch over the yard and keep order. Of course, he sticks by my side no matter what.

   The two of us had grown close not long after we started to talk, but couldn't show it. If we did, chances are we would have been lining up on death row, leading the other captives we've met down that road as well.

   I look down at the makeshift bandage wrapping my midsection, faintly seeing a small, dark red patch on the fraying, slightly dirty strips of cloth. I silently sigh. We've never had any real bandages, cooked food, clean water, or even proper lighting, which seems like the easiest things to do. Apparently not to our captors. Every captive here most likely has a number of parasites and diseases. Many have died from these tiny but deadly attacks, since we can't fight back against them.

   The doors to the large yard loudly slid open.

   "Captive 39."

   C39, a young Markazian male, casually strolls over to the doors like he's used to this, which he probably is. With my guard up, I carefully watch for any trouble after C39 left. He's one of the captives who enforce the 'No fighting without good reason' rule. Thankfully there is none.

   Every now and then, They will call one of the captives. Then, after a time, They send them back in needing to be patched up. Some captives don't return. Some come back, get patched up and still die from blood loss. And some that come back get patched up like everyone else, and barely live, like myself.

   So, we had to adjust, and this is just this way of life now.

   Never get attached.

   Never mourn a loss.

   Never defy Them.

   Never disobey Them

   Never try escaping.

   Abandon hope.

   Obey.

Short, I know. The other chapters will be longer, though. I promise you that!