Powerful

Chapter 3: Learning the Truth

 Someone's trying to wake me, gently prodding my body, and saying "Get up!" in a low hiss. My eyes remain closed, and I breath a sigh of relief. It's just my mother; she does this every morning, knowing full that if she didn't, I would never awaken. I groaned in protest, rolling onto my back. A sharp pain shot up my lower spine, and the floor was hard, and cold. Suddenly, the voice became deeper and harsher. A man. The poking became steadily harder, until it hurt. I froze; Mom would never do that. My eyes sprang open. Standing over me, leering menacingly, was that roach Gary.

"You!" I gasped, barely restraining myself from clawing that demon's eyes out. But then I noticed the two large guards looming behind him, guns clearly visible, and I contented myself by digging my nails into the palms of my hand.

"Me," Gary mimicked in a high falsetto. I felt my blood boil. What did this man want? What more could he possibly do?

"Cuff her," he replied, answering my questions. The two burly guards stepped forward, each clutching a large metal cube, with an indent in the center, perfectly shaped for a hand...

If only I had understood the reality a second later than I did. I stumbled onto the cot, two of its legs broken, searching, searching for an exit, as the two men descended upon me. They jammed a cube onto each of my hands, the wiry insides cutting into my wrists. I screamed once, halfheartedly, as two large hands dragged me out of my cell and down the hall, knowing that no help would come. The boy with super-strength mouthed something--I think it was "I'm sorry"-- but I was pulled away so fast I couldn't be certain. Gary continuously poked me in the back, his spotless dress shoes click-clacking on the cement floor. I didn't even bother to look at the other trapped kids, whose pleas for help had ceased. Besides, there was no longer a need to stare; I was one of them. A pair of double doors opened with a swish, and we entered.

We were once more in the laboratory from before. Everything was the same; I could almost imagine myself standing several feet from this very spot, squirming away from the syringe. Across the room, Walsh was hunched over a keyboard, brow furrowed, typing in commands. The largest screen, the one right above his head, was on. On it were twenty kids' smiling faces. I recognized my own picture; there was a number 20 stamped in the right-hand corner, just like on my pajamas. It was my school picture from last year; I hadn't had this year's photo taken yet. Now it looked like I never would. There were words printed under each grinning, unknowing face, but they didn't connect in my mind, didn't make sense. Telekinesis, elasticity, regeneration, intangibility...and finally, under the name Ava Scott, were the words "gravity manipulation".

My mind reeled. Is that what had happened? Is that what I could do? Manipulate gravity? It was all so surreal--like something from an X-men movie.

"We're here," Gary said gruffly, his booming voice echoing around the cavernous room. Walsh turned slowly, a smirk on his face.

"Oh, Gary," he said casually, "You truly are one of the slowest people I've ever encountered."

"I'm just carrying out your dirty chores," Gary shot back angrily, shoving me into a straight-backed chair. The two guards pressed down on my shoulders with their beefy hands. An awkward pause filled the surrounding air. One of the guards coughed.

"So," Gary said finally, stepping in front of me and rocking back and forth on his heels. "So, so, so, so, so. Here we are." A malicious grin was set upon his face.

"Who are you?" I spat, uselessly trying to wriggle my hands out of the metal cubes, which were beginning to make my fingers numb.

"We are God," he replied with a satisfied look. Walsh had wandered away from his computer and was now standing beside his partner in crime, arms crossed, sporting the same accomplished expression. I just stared at them, clueless. Who were these two psychos to be calling themselves God?

"As if," I scoffed, rolling my eyes. The guard on my left tightened his hold on my shoulder.

"G.O.D. stands for Generation of Domination," Walsh spoke up, "And we feel that this country--this world--could easily do with a change."

"That's where you brats come in," Gary growled. There was an extra amount of disdain in his voice.

"With you kids and your powers, we'll take this recession-swamped country by storm--our way." Walsh was much calmer than his grouchy companion, like he'd done this all before.

"So...you're like terrorists?" I asked, terrible images popping into my head.

"We prefer to be called...politicians," Walsh replied. I felt my eyes roll once more. Same thing, more or less. Gary, noticing my attitude, leaned over me and cupped his hand around my chin.

"Such a shame too," he whispered, so that only I could hear. "You're so pretty." I tried to avoid looking into his dark eyes. They resembled black holes, devoid of all emotion or light.

"So you're gonna let me go?" I questioned sarcastically. He chuckled, a low, chilling sound. Then he slapped me, my cheek stinging. I seethed.

"Cut the attitude, sweetheart. You're ours now. You're just our little lab rat," he said, straightening up. Walsh had drifted back to his computer, and clicking sounds once again filled the room. I could feel my teeth gritting against each other in anger.

"Tomorrow you'll be able to meet the rest of your new friends and begin your, uh...training," Gary continued, smiling at the last word. He jutted his chin towards the doors. "Take her back to her cell. Dinner will be in an hour."

The two guards nodded wordlessly, and lifted me out of the chair. As they dragged me away, I twisted my head to look back. Gary was waggling his fingers at me, smiling, gold teeth shining. As we walked down the hall, all I could think about were Gary's words. "You're ours now. You're just our little lab rat."