The Future Firecracker

65 | ONE ON ONE

CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
'one on one'

All things felt endless yet short.

Painful yet painless.

It was as if you couldn't distinguish anything from everything. The discomfort shooting through your limbs was unfathomable, it only lasted a few seconds. Maybe two or three.
At some point, you even felt like you deserved it. That karma had finally caught up to you and gave you the retribution you deserved.

The people around knew exactly who you were. It didn't exactly reciprocate, they were complete strangers. Except for two.
Dr. Hirahara and Hawks stood in either corner. The doors had opened and men walked inside the bright white room, surrounding you in your form of weak and feeble.

Staying completely still for a few beats of your heart, you tried to strategise a quick plan to escape the enclosure. As the countdown finished it's ticking in your brain, your eyes darted to the door and your feet moved on their own to grab the handle, reaching for the long-awaited peace and freedom— that was all you wanted.

The men blew away like the dust of old statues. The hero and the doctor called out your name, telling you to stop, rethink and rejoin. Your foot stepped too far, carrying you through a widening, barely noticeable ditch.

You fell. Plummeting into a ravine. Before you hit the spikes on the bottom, you were back in the white room.

"Again," he said, ordering you to use your quirk.

No. No. No.

Attempting to escape to the right-hand side door, you had to rush past Hawks, jump over the nameless men and break the locks open. You were now in a laboratory.

This made you panic. Your fingers tried to dig themselves into your palms, but you felt no pain.

The lights went off.

You turned around in circles, breathing heavily.

There was a light, a blue one. You ran towards it.
You didn't fear the dark— right?
Luckily the light wasn't flames, but a glowing tank, like the old lava lamp you used to have in your room as a child.

Your scream for help was caught in your throat.
In the tank was you, wrapped by wires and eyes lacked consistent consciousness. She kept opening and closing her eyes, the hand reaching close to the impenetrable glass.

The lights went on.
She was awake, pounding and yelling for help.

You stepped backwards, falling again and ending back in the lab as if none of that ever happened. They all acted the same. Over and over. No one would change.

"Again," Hawks said, "Train your quirk, Epochary."

You didn't want to use it.
Not when your natural gift is forced to be activated.
It ached. Everything ached.

Then, with one deep inhale, you woke up.

Sweat trickled down your forehead, your wheezing filled the car as it drove.  A window separated the front two seats and yourself, leaving you solitary to deal with your own issues.