Variant

Prologue

QOTC (Question of the Chapter): If you were geneitcally engineered, what would you want genetically engineered into you? It can be anything! Wings, smarts, pretty looks. One flaw, you can only pick one thing. It doesn't have to be the things I just mentioned. Just pick anything and comment it below!

This is the prologue to Variant, inspired by both the amazing adventures and read of the Maximum Ride series, and the rush of Divergent.

Any suggestions on which celebrity Allen could be? I decided that Raven would be Dylan Schmidt, Sage would be Spencer Locke, and Swift can be Samantha Boscarino. Allen was Shane Harper, but I'm deciding to change that. Any suggestions?

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I gasp and my eyes open up. How long was I asleep? I couldn't know, and I never will. I just know what year of my life it is. Year 13. I could have been out for a week and it wouldn't matter. It will still be the same old year of pain.

They have been expiermenting on me ever since before I was born. I'm serious about that, they genetcially engineered on me while I was still a little egg my mother donated to this aweful places to get a quick buck. She could've had me. She could've loved me. But no, I had to be donated.

I don't know if anything I have is real. My blond hair. My brown eyes. My large muscles. My height. That could've all been decided by them. I could've been born with blue hair and they could've changed that.

I don't even have a name. I chose one for myself. I was young, they were a little bit kinder to me. I saw different stones. At first I wanted it to be Sapphire, but then I saw a beautiful shade of green. My name is Sage.

I shake the bars with no result. Not even a dent. I am strong, but they are stronger. What am I thinking? I can't let them be stronger!

I grunt and get up as far as I can. I kick the cage. Pain filled my foot. Pain builds character, I need to suck it up. This isn't anything compared to what they would do to me once I escaped. I bite my lip and a try again. More pain.

"And I thought you were supposed to be smart here," a kid said in a dog crate neck to me. He wraped his fingers around the bars of the cage.

I sighed and gave him a look, "I'm not trying to be smart. I'm trying to get out of here."

"My statement still stands, " he said, "You think you're smart enough to escape this place?"

I sighed again, "No, " I admitted, "But it's not like I can try."

He gave me a look, "I've been here longer than you, there's no way out of here. Except death."

"I'm starting to think death is better, " I say.

He stares at me, "Death is freedom, but we need to stay alive. They might bring us back."

I nodded, "They might."

He smiled. His name was Raven. He had a dark personality. Black hair, black eyes, black clothing. I'm surprised they let him pick the color he wanted to wear. I'd say his name soots him. He's dark and mysterious like a raven. His negativity was him being here too long. He's only been here for 15 years, two more than me, and he's been doubting the chance of hope. Unless one of the scientist have a change in heart, but when is the likely of that happening? I'm surprised we weren't snapped at for talking. I'm surprised they allowed that.

Also, if you tried to escape, talked about it, or did anything to the cage, they would take your hand and smack your knuckles with a club and then hit you in the head with it. Sometimes, you're knocked out for days, and you wake up not knowing what they could've done to you will you were unconscious.

It's been done to me. It's been done to Raven. It's been done to everyone here. And I still want out.

Well, wouldn't you? Half the things they do to me I don't even know about.

The pain in my foot is gone. But I knew why. It went right to my head. I groaned and put my hands to my head. It helps keep it from exploding into a million pieces. I try to stop the headaches, but pain still shoots to my brain.

"Another headache?" asks a girl across from me. The people can tell her to be quiet, she won't listen. She's the stubborn one, and feels like she can do whatever she wants. She, to me, is a good influence here. Sure she gets in trouble, but I don't care.

Her name is Swift. She has dark brown eyes and dark eyes like Raven. Sometimes I think they're related. Swift has a dark personality just like him, and she's been here for 16 years. She's the oldest that hasn't died yet. The oldest was Allen, but he died from a bad expierment. I don't want to end up like that.

If only I was younger. My hand could fit through the bars and lift up the latches. Now, my hand is too big. I can only lift them, but I can't turn them enough to let me out. But, of course, that was my plain. I would somehow teach the next young one they bring in to do exactly that.

I wish I didn't have to wait. What if they didn't bring another young one in? What if I died before one did? What am I kidding. I know the younger ones go into a different room in a different cage. Maybe for that very reason.

I nodded at Swift as the headache started to fade away. A headache never lasted this long. They're usually longer. Maybe my brain decided to give me a break today.

Maybe its all the thoughts I think to myself all the time. There has never been a moment in my life my mind has ever been blank. It's always full of thoughts, wonders, and statements. I never wondered about it...until now.

I wonder, if they are putting these thoughts in my head. I wonder if they are giving me the adivce my mind gets me. I also wonder if it all goes away if I leave this place. Just makes me want to leave more.

Everyone that has ever been a victim to this place has wanted to leave. Not one has succeeded. I want to be the first. I want to see them confused on how to get me back. That's right. I want the geniuses, the monsters, doing this to all of us be confused for once in their life. For once in their life could they be confused? For once in their life, would they soften up? For once in their life, can they let me be free.

I don't know how to describe what it's like living here. A lab? No. That's not close. A horror. A nightmare. A torchure-house. A place where they make innocent kids, their own solidgers. A place they call us special. A place they call us different. A place we're called variant. Sounds about right. No. Sounds dead on. Maybe I can explain what it's like here.

Variant. It means different. But to them, it means to torchure innocent kids who don't know who they really are. It means to change them to their dream kids that die before they turn 18.

Variant.