One: Ramsey
As the bolted door swung closed behind him and his window of opportunity shrank to a fourteen by six slit, Ramsey could feel his suppressed anger snap something inside of him. Enough was enough. He would not live his entire life as a captive. He was dangerous, yes. Lethal even. But was it so much to ask to be treated like a human being and not just a science experiment? He trained from dawn until dusk and then was locked away in a room chemically engineered to dampen his power. He growled from deep in his throat and landed a fist against the door. It echoed hollowly around the cell. “Containment room, my ass,” he snarled. Turning, he grabbed the edge of his cot. Flipping it up against the wall. It clanged horribly as metal met metal. As the frame hit the ground again and the clanging continued, he kicked it. A deluge of curses and threats poured from his lips.
When the final echoes disappeared, he sat down hard on the edge of the cot. He could threaten all he wanted, but he knew in his heart that he would continue to be submissive. The military trainers, he couldn’t hurt them. They wouldn’t let him, and if he did, it would be like turning his back on his entire world. He knew nothing outside the hangar walls except for the yellowed patch of grass he and the others were allowed out upon every other day to fill their lungs with diesel-tasting air. Was this living? He struck the cot with a fist and was less than satisfied as the soft material gave way. He couldn’t even hurt a mattress.
With an exasperated sigh, he gave up. He repeated this ritual almost every day, and it was exhausting and fruitless. He never got results. However, this time, after nineteen years of spiteful repetition, he had resolve. He would escape the confines of this life if it cost him his own. If he did not receive results, he would create them himself. He could do it. Even with his power dampened to a fraction of what it normally was, he was sure he could do it. All he needed was a plan. And an accomplice.
Standing so quickly his head spun, he went back to the door. Across the hall lay his only option. He watched the figure moving within –getting ready to sleep, no doubt- and though he hated to use his power on another fated being, he concentrated, and let his power reach across the gap like an invisible arm.
The girl flinched as though she had been struck, and immediately turned her head to face him. Her cat-like eyes were partly obscured by soft blond tresses as she narrowed them. Her expression read, what was that for? Ramsey held up his hands in the universal “I come in peace” gesture. She looked at him strangely and inclined her head. Go on, she seemed to say. Frantically, Ramsey began to mime out what he hoped was something along the lines of, “Will you help me escape?” Her face was pinched in concentration, and she stared at him intently as she struggled to catch his meaning. Finally, something clicked behind her eyes and she met his own excitedly. She opened her mouth as if to answer. Suddenly, Ramsey was plunged into darkness. He screamed in frustration. They were shutting down the row lights. The small pinprick of the tiny nightlight every room had illuminated the facility side of his cell-room, but other than that, the room was dark. He beat his fist against the door as the girl shook her head and mimed that she couldn’t talk now. That she was sorry. Tomorrow, she mouthed before she too was in darkness.
Turning and running his hands exasperatedly through his hair, he felt the anger swell. He wanted to use his power and hurt whoever had done this to him. To the girl across the hall. To them all. It wasn’t fair, and though it made them special, Ramsey would have rather had his freedom. And his dignity. He and the rest of the experiments had been subject to full examinations weekly since they first started developing their powers, and the compiled and mixed up memories of the examinations left him feeling thoroughly violated. He knew that the medics were checking for any strange bodily mutations, and that every experiment had them done, but he couldn’t stand it. It was humiliating to stand there, naked and powerless, while the medics made notes on a clipboard. He was powerfully powerless for half an hour or so each week and it killed him inside. He knew why they were customary. It was because of that boy who had once turned to stone. They had taught him to master his alterations so that he could use his power without turning into a five hundred pound rock, but it did not change the fact that the military became even more wary of what they had created. And so the examinations began. Ramsey reveled in his ability to cause pain only through the use of his mind- Algesis, they called it- but he would give it up to retain his dignity, and obtain a government over himself. To no longer be monopolized. A pawn. An expendable resource. As far as he knew, he was the only one that possessed his power, but that didn’t mean that others could not take his place. He would rather be able to avoid the tyranny entirely and be himself. Not experiment number 57.
