Subject 13 (Clexa/ofc)

Chapter 1

Insanity: the state of mind an individual faces after they crack completely.

Cracks: breakages in things that were once whole and loved.

Love: nonexistent.

The closest thing I've experienced to love was a 40 year old man teaching me all his secrets before he died. Was I supposed to cry at his funeral? At the tears shed by people who thought they knew him? Because they didn't.

I might've been only been 12 at the time but loss was no stranger. When I was younger I used to wonder why my conceivers were never there for me like other children's. 10 was the age I left. It was also the same year Thomas found me, decided I had something special and took me under his wing.

Two years, 17,520 hours was enough for me to master his art. He educated me, trained me and fed me. His death was unpredicted by his acquaintances at a newspaper agency. But they didn't know him. Was it the fact that he was an anonymous associate of intelligence agencies that killed him? Or the fact he was lonely? It mattered not.

After attending his funeral as an innocent bystander mourning the death anniversary of a random gravestone, I sold some of his things and flew to England. I also may have taken his laptop as my own. Activating a bank account in England, I spent a year on the streets using the taught skills to survive. Why didn't I buy a place to stay? Excuse me? How is a 12 year old supposed to buy a house? If you know, please tell me.

However, it wasn't before long I was caught. M16 decided that adopting an early teenager was better than eliminating them. Yet they cared not about me - about my skills and abilities? Yes. Me? No.

Sending me on most of the suicide missions, using me as bait or decoy, and finally trading me three years later as a peace treaty with America. It was like everything went full circle. Run from the past and the future will push you right back.

16 was the age they sent me to a remote location in America and also the age I was first injected. 14 other victims were there was well - I was the lucky unlucky 13th. No longer was I Phoebe. In there... I was known as 13.

13 who was the only one to survive the treatment and not fall into insanity. 13 who massacred a whole army on command. 13 who was broken beyond repair. 13 of Area 51.

They would blast my body with gamma rays after giving me the serum. It ripped apart my body's atoms and put it back together. Some idiot accidentally tilted the machine towards my head during a treatment. Through that, I gained the ability to see all energy.

The scientist assigned to me explained it was the activation of the serum in the neuron neurotransmitters in the sensory areas. Whatever that means. And that I survived because of my Rh-null blood.

She was the only tolerable one in the whole faculty. Lilith Franco her name was. Told me she had a sister up in Polaris space station called Becca. She was a close... friend.

For another three years they trained me. At 19 I was deadly with all weapons under the sun: guns, swords, hand to hand, and my ability. To reward me, they allowed for an approved comfort animal. I bonded with a gorilla and somehow was able to absorb him as a tattoo. But then the threat of nuclear war broke out and they shipped me to Washington DC for 'premeasures'.

Lilith came with me and gave me a serum compatible with my blood that immunised me to radiation. She showed me the secret compartments of the room as she got me ready for the cryopod. Closing the pod door, she placed her hand on the glass as a goodbye. I raised my hand and placed it against her's. Before long, I felt the chilling cold embrace my body. My eyes closed and hand dropped. Giving one last breath, I was gone.

~
A woman in a suit space suit stumbled out of a pod addressing the hundreds of hagged looking people, "My name is Becca and I have come to save you all."

~
The same woman was in a tub relaxing. She glanced at where I stood. "Thir- Phoebe... you play an important role. Never give up. When you wake, take down the m-"

~
People in hazmat suits kill... burn... torture... "Remember Phoebe! Remember!" Pramheda is gone.

~
Men and women with black blood fight to the death for a chip. Victor rules over people. Death. Pain. Suffering... War.

~
Giant gorilla appears. Looks longingly at pod. Roars. Nods. Protect.

~
Missing. Stolen from homes. Drained of blood. Drugged. No hope...

~
Green eyes... Lexa... Commander...

~
Shooting star... people... Becca... Clarke... fire... FIRE...

-
A/N
Oh hello there no one!
How is you? How is this?

This fic was inspired by a range of other fics, so that's why it might seem familiar.

Unlike the show, Anya isn't dead because she deserves better, and a lot of things are different.

Constructive criticism is always welcomed.

Xoxo

Also, I don't own anything except maybe Phoebe. But she's her own person so...