Habs

Like a deer in the headlights,

He stares at the blank page holding the pen merely two centimeters above, daunted at his now fleeting thoughts.

"Come on...please tell me something!" He stammers.

He sighs and puts the pen down in his blahs and bleakness as he rubs his hands in his face.

“I lost it again,” He says with so much affliction portrayed in his face as if it seemed there was no hope in the world. But no, it has happened again. Another chance at remembering what had actually happened that night of the accident was wasted. Maybe if he had made it to his notepad in time he could’ve written it down, could’ve remembered something... oh never mind.

Now at one point or another in Hab’s life, he was happier than he once was, at least, he thinks he was.

Society has washed hope away in his life in more ways than he could count, or remember. Habs brushes his dark curly hair out of his bright green eyes.

"RING"

Habs sits up from his daze of despair as the door was ringing.

“What is it?” He shouts wrapping his robe around himself.

No answer.

He rolls his eyes and slumps back down onto his sofa cushion.

His little apartment has always had some malfunctions. His door would always make an occasional buzz or so. Oh the flaws of today's technology!

Habs looks around his melancholy little home. He has been moved in here for six months yet there are still boxes to be packed up and memories waiting to be discovered.

The door rings again.

"Who's there?" He yells again, getting a bit annoyed.

"BANG-WASH-CRASH-KAZAAM"

Habs jumps from the sofa. The door falls to the ground with a loud CRASH. Habs frantically grabs his Azimuth-Spray and the Dacombulator from the drawer and aims them at whatever would come from his broken door. Habs has always had good reflexes. Suddenly, a gray mist comes over the room. Three dark figures emerge through the mist before Hab’s memory cuts out. At least, it probably did.

A NUMBER OF HOURS LATER

The room is actually surprisingly bright but in a dark type of way. The floor is lined with steel bars about one-inch apart(keep in mind if you ever were to drop an important file on the ground you wouldn’t be able to get it back). But the ceiling was the most peculiar site. It seemed to be made entirely of glass, gleaming different colors.

An old white-haired lady sits at the doorway of the room looking over what seems to be an important file on her clipboard. Another old lady very similar in appearance sits on the opposite side of the doorway. Habs sits in the middle of the room with a blindfold covering his bright green eyes from discovering anything that shouldn’t be discovered.

If you are ever kidnapped by some secret organization that you weren’t aware of, you would probably be a bit freaked out. Maybe you would try to run, escape. Or maybe you would regret your decision of not going to the bathroom before you were kidnapped as if you knew you were going to get kidnapped soon after.

Habs snorts so loudly that he wakes himself up as his eyes whiz back into focus.

“Where am I?” He says to the women, very disoriented. One of the old women looks up.

“Where am I? Who am I? What am I? Why am I? Those are the questions that you must be asking yourself at this time.”

“But,” He hesitates at her statement, ” I know who I am, But I need to know where I am, and I need to know when I will be getting home. As well- I need to know who you are and if I am in danger here. Because, if I may remind you, I don't know where I am.” He remarks.

" You, Habs Victor Young Quiopterston are here, no more questions asked.”

“But you haven’t even-” Habs is cut short by the opening up the brass door by a well-dressed man in grey with abnormally spiked purple hair.

" Is this him?” He says whispering to the two ladies.

“Yes.” They say in together.

" Does he know?” He says lowering his tone.

“No,” The lady with the clipboard answers, "And he doesn’t need to know,” she said.

“Tell him them."

If someone were to ask Habs during this time that he understood what was going on, or how this would change his life forever? He would say no. Because Habs like probably anyone who has been kidnapped before was thinking up his daring escape. He could take out the two old women with his Dacombobulator( he always keeps in under his sock) and for the man, he doesn’t look like much of a fighter.

" It would jeopardize the mission if he knew, Quilliam.” They remark to him.

" Or help the mission!” Quilliam stammers.

“You can’t risk it," one of the ladies says.

" I thought we went over this?"

" Yes. On the mission. But not on these terms."

" Fine! But if anything happens, I will personally handle it! You of all people know that he can't be recognized."

They nod to him. He opens the heavy brass door and walks out of the room.

The ladies stand up from their chairs and walk over to Habs.

" Hello. My name is Reekly, and this here is Deekly, and this,” She ushers to the entire building, ” Is VYQ,” Says the women without the clipboard.

"And you are here because we know you, we know what you can do, and how you can help us,” Deekly says.

Habs furrows his brows.

"How do you know me?”

"Exactly!”

“Now, we better get you to the auditorium, there is an assembly in 20 minutes. You wouldn't want to miss that now would you?”

Habs gives a stern look at the two old laThe ladies start to walk back to the door.

" Well, come on them,” Deekly says.

"I’m still tied up in this chair.” He says to her.

"Oops! Silly me!“Deekly takes out a remote and pushes one of the several hundred buttons. The ropes that were once around Habs vanish.

" Now come along.”

The two ladies walk out of the room as Habs sits in the rope-less chair dumbfounded.

"If they think that I’m going to actually follow them after what I have just witnessed they’re wrong,” He murmurs to himself.

"After all of this,” He ushers to the ceiling, the floor, and the entire building, ” They must be lunatics.”

Habs stands up from the chair and reaches for his Dacombobulator. Yep. Still there. He takes off the cap of it, shakes it up, and charges.