500 - Part I - Distorted Shadows and Monsters

Chapter I - The Beginning

Four days. It had been four confusing, exhausting days of manipulation. Ever since the scientists – who he now called monsters – had enslaved him and the other children in the laboratory, he had longed to escape. Daniel knew it would be gruelling, painful and challenging, but he wouldn't give in. Never.
He was in his room, which was dilapidated and decaying. It seemed the stone, brick walls had been painted with thick, cloud dust, in long, narrow brushstrokes. Daniel had to get out of here. He glanced upwards at the metallic vent hatch, which was a small oblong. The hatch had been bolted, but he'd been able to steal a screwdriver, without alerting any of the scientists. Daniel had slipped it under his paper thin jacket.
"I need to be silent," he murmured to himself, "Quiet as twilight." The boy reached into his jacket, then retrieved the screwdriver. he examined the scratches, which were etched into the handle. Also engraved were unknown symbols of some enchanted language. Daniel dragged the mattress, with great effort, until it was directly under the hatch. With trembling legs, he clambered onto the "bed", then stood up.
Daniel steadied his ragged breathing, so it became even. He wouldn't let the scientists chase after him. First of all, he wouldn't let them even spot him. Daniel clutched the screwdriver tightly, in his sweaty hand, which was clenched. Sticking his tongue out in concentration, he turned the screwdriver around, after he pressed it into one of the bolts. The work required great precision, but Daniel was certain he could manage it.
One of the bolts fell behind his head, the mattress cushioning the deafening sound Daniel was expecting. It would be an almost noiseless sound, but it would be powerful, as an eerie silence reverberated around the foreboding room. Daniel tasked himself with another bolt. Every small twist of his wrist, his eyes would spark, looking out for any trace of movement of a scientist. He guessed he was just being paranoid that somebody was going to burst in on his marvellous plan.

Another bolt dropped from the hatch, narrowly missing Daniel's nape. "C'mon," Daniel whispered, "You've got this." It wasn't that he didn't have faith in himself; he had all the faith in this plan he'd cleverly crafted. However, he just had to utter words to distract himself. He just had to rid himself of worry, by telling himself every slight noise was coming from him, not anybody potentially outside.
"Are they all secure?" asked a chilling female voice. Daniel's entire body froze. Icy water trickled through his veins. Every hair down his forearms raised. Goosebumps ran down his legs. "Yes, as secure as they could possibly be, Watson," a confident male voice replied swiftly. Daniel attempted to compose himself. 'They'll go soon, just stay still,' he thought. But they didn't go. "Who is in this one?" the man demanded.
"A boy named Daniel. He came from a family of three others," the female answered him.
"I assume two parents and–"
"His sister, Quinn," she stated. What? Daniel didn't have a sister. Nor parents, either. "They told Grayden he had great talent. He had a thing for climbing trees, apparently," chuckled the man. Daniel remembered that. He loved climbing trees. However, Grayden never appeared before he came here. He'd only known Grayden for four days. How did he know everything?
"Try the handle!" shouted the guy.
"Whatever do you mean?" argued the scientist.
"Watson, listen to me! I am being honest and I heard movement inside," the man growled. The scientist called Watson tried to turn the handle. It didn't move. "The boy can't escape," Watson told him.
"But we can't get in!" shouted the man, who was quickly beginning to lose his temper.
"At least he's safe in there. He won't be coming out. Ever."

"I don't trust these kids, y'know?" the guy growled.
"Not even Grayden does," Watson snapped back. The man snarled. "What do you even want, Oak?" the woman questioned him. Daniel slowly brought his knees down, shrinking his legs into his chest. He carefully lowered his body, until he was touching the uncomfortable, itchy mattress. "I can hear movement!" hollered the man, who was called Dr Oak.
"It isn't lights out. Yet," hissed Watson.
"I am becoming impatient! I want answers. Now!" yelled Oak. Shivers shook Daniel's body. "Grayden told us we weren't to open doors, if it wasn't necessary."
"I don't care what Grayden says," spat Oak.
"Well, I'm loyal to him, Oak. You can't be disobeying his orders, can you?" Watson reasoned.
"Fine," huffed Oak, "Have it your way, then."
Daniel stayed very still, holding in his breath. He couldn't move the mattress, without making a small noise. He just had to pray they wouldn't come in. "What are you doing?" a voice grunted. It was harsh and unfriendly. It could only belong to Grayden. "Sorry, sir!"Oak responded with haste.
"I'll have you 'sorry, sir!" drawled Grayden, "Next time, don't stop for a chat. We are having a meeting, later."
"Excellent," mumbled Watson. Sarcastically. "I won't be placing you two next to each other. Do you hear me?" Grayden furiously stated. Neither of Grayden's workers dared to say anything. "Well, do you?" Grayden roared.
"Yes we do, sir," the pair muttered, meekly, in unison. Daniel heard Grayden savagely grab one of their laboratory coats. The man yanked at people's coats very often, whenever he was angry. In simple words, Grayden was mad almost all the time. "Good," Grayden whispered coolly. He stomped back down to his office, which Daniel hoped he could one day enter. He was always curious of what was inside. In fact, Daniel was willing to risk his life, if it meant he could spend a few minutes exploring the place. Grayden was a man of such power and authority. Even the scientists, doctors and other workers were afraid of how he could threaten or hurt anyone. Even by words.

Daniel listened intently at the speedy footsteps coming from down the corridor. They gradually grew fainter and fainter. When the drumming and hammering feet stopped making any audible noise, Daniel knew it was time to plot his next move. He released the breath he had been anxiously sucking in. Relief washed over him, like warm water heating his shaky body. Daniel stepped up again, holding the screwdriver with less of a forceful grip. 'You can't let them hear you,' he told himself.
A few minutes passed. Daniel was shivering, although it wasn't from the invincible breeze that mercilessly stung his pale skin. It was something he didn't want to admit he had. That thing he had an awful lot of, much to his dismay. He dug the tool into one of the two remaining bolts, then twisted his hand around. Tears streamed down Daniel's face in salty tracks. Everything ached. Everything hurt him so badly. He continued, despite everything. His mind grew excited, as his sweaty fingers rotated the screwdriver. Daniel watched as the bolt whizzed down, once again lightly falling on the mattress. Feeling rather hopeful, the boy worked on the last bolt.
Suddenly, the few narrow strips of ceiling lights flickered. Small rays of light flashed briefly, until the room was plunged into a suffocating, inky darkness. Daniel stood on his tiptoes, his face almost touching the freezing cold stone. He heard his breathing pick up significantly,  as he unscrewed the bolt. Daniel ducked — just in time — as the bolt dropped and the hatch swung open. A foul stench entered the vicinity. White light creeped along the stone bricks. At least there was a small light source, which came from the vents. Daniel jumped and reached a white high distance, however it was never enough. He'd have to think of something else.
After a minute of pondering, Daniel decided on something that was reckless. Something that would surely tear his limbs. Daniel's sore fingers gripped the vent hatch, then applied a dangerous amount of pressure to them. He swung, as his legs flung limply in the air. They kicked out in pain and frustration. Panting whilst his body became drenched in sweat, Daniel gripped on the iron bars more tightly. He mustered all the courage he could gain, before pushing himself upwards. He wrapped his hands around the first thing he could feel, which happened to be a pole, which stretched around the vent opening.