Chris
The cell was cold and damp. A light draft from the hallway carried the smell of something sweet, sickly sweet. Chris’s stomach rumbled. They had not eaten in almost three days.
They wrapped their arms around their middle, hunching over slightly. Thompson would be here soon and everything would be okay.
Chris knew the risks of sneaking onto an enemy base. They knew about the hunger, the thirst, and panic. They had done this many times, but that did not make it any easier.
A pained shriek pierced the air. The smell intensified. Chris’s hand flew up to cover their nose and mouth. The smell was awful and almost burned. Chris gagged and could feel vomit creeping up their throat.
This was not the place, nor the time to throw up. Definitely not. They knew that from experience. When Chris had entered the war, they had been nauseous in every cell. Thompson had been displeased the first time he rescued Chris, only to find Chris’s clothing covered in vomit. It had not happened since then.
A door slammed open. Footsteps echoed, along with chatter. Two guards peered into Chris’s cell. One was missing an eye and the other had a long scar down his neck.
The one with the scar tapped something on his wrist, perhaps a watch, and spoke.
“The prisoner is awake, sire. Shall we bring it to you?” His voice was raspy and had a robotic tone to it. Chris’s heartbeat increase and breathing shortened. Thompson was supposed to rescue them. That was the plan. If Thompson did not come…
“Bring it.”
“Yes, sire.” The one with the scar let his wrist fall to his side and nodded at the one with a missing eye. He pulled the cell door open with a loud creak.
Chris shuffled to the back of the cell. They had to put up a fight long enough for Thompson to arrive. The two guards entered the cell.
Chris leaped up to leave and immediately doubled over. The nausea rushed up again, leaving them dizzy. Panic flooded their body as their arms were grabbed. They were dragged from the cell and tried to kick around, but they were not strong enough to do more than slow down the guards.
A bright light blinded Chris’s vision for a moment.
They were in a kitchen. The counters were metal, possibly steel. Chris was picked up and slammed on one of the counters. Chris yelped and tried to pull from the guards’ grasp. Their arms, middle, and legs were quickly tied down.
A new set of footsteps entered, heavier ones.
“It will be a useful weapon once we make the necessary… improvements. Give it The Shot.” Chris’s eyes widened. The Shot. The thing that had turned great fighters, amazing people into weapons without any humanity left.
They did not have any time before a sharp pain entered their neck. Everything slowed. They could not think or feel. The world turned dark.
Then, nothing.
