With a watch on his wrist, no memory of his past, and a puzzle-filled room, Atlas tries desperately to escape the elevators.
Upon waking to darkness, Atlas stumbles into the white room. His desire for answers driving his feet to move. In the firs...
A/N: The prologue is not needed for the progression of this story. -^^-
This prologue was originally created for a contest:
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Blood thrummed through my veins. My heart was pumping fast, my breathing rapid and uneven. I had to warn them. They were coming. Stumbling into the broken-down warehouse, I vocalized my concern.
"They're coming! The Projects!" I leaned over to catch my breath.
Placing my hands on my knees, I willed the air into my lungs. It was quite the distance to sprint for someone in their thirties. My body had grown ragged with constant exertion and combat.
Finally, I managed to gasp out, "They will come here first. We have to go into hiding," I paused for a moment and looked at the face of my beautiful red-headed daughter. "The resistance has to live on."
After my urgent cries, the concourse dispersed. In a frenzy, we packed our belongings as we prepared to leave the place we would no longer call home. The Project Purge Initiative had already claimed my husband. I could not let the same thing happen to my daughter.
"Hope, you and Atlas need to run. Now," I reached for my daughter's arms, urgently, "They will take him before they take you. Keep each other safe." I was holding back the waterfall behind my eyes. I watched as my daughter nodded confidently. She hugged my neck tightly, and I squeezed back, too scared to let go of her.
We parted reluctantly, and she ran to Atlas. My blistering eyes met his icy blue ones. A single stern nod was shared. No words were spoken as they made their departure. No words had to be said.
That nod was a silent promise: I will protect your daughter.
After their silhouettes disappeared through the back entrance, I broke down. All of the frustration and sadness flooded through my body. My heart ached as I thought of my husband's face. The uncertainty of the future―my child's future loomed over my body. It was a weight pressing on me, crushing me, as I let my tears flow.
The rush of people moved around me in a blur. Goodbye kisses were bitter and finite. We knew what had to be done. I paused to watch the brave faces of our camp, smacking the tears away.
I never let myself go like this. I was always the strong one; I had to be. I was the leader of the Resistance, after all. My voice was one to be heard. That wouldn't stop now. I dried my tears and picked myself up from the dingy concrete. It was time to fight. The remaining women and I readied for battle. Our young and our men were sent away, and our formation was assumed. The front line of the Resistance was going to be tested.
Just as we prepped for the inevitable attack, the doors caved inward. They were here. Every fiber of my being wanted to rip into these soldiers. I felt my thighs twitch with the anticipation of a battle, my gun stone cold. Our war cries ended abruptly after our charge into the hoard of black-clad PI guards. Our ranks were brought to their knees by canisters of gas―sleeping gas. Only now could I see the gas masks on the guards' sour faces.
A single tear slipped from my eye. It was not a tear of loss, but a tear of joy.
It wasn't over.
The truth was out there.
Hope was free.
My vision began to fade, and I let four simple words leave my lips. It was the truth, and it would taunt the guards' thoughts.
"The Resistance lives on."
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