A Chance to Trust (YJ/DP)

-1- What the Blind Can See

CLANK

kshhhhh....

The heavy door opened with a metallic thump and an equalization of air.

A small figure in the corner shied away from the open door, knowing exactly what was going to happen next.

Two men entered the room, both in dazzling white suits with black gloves, shoes, ties, and sunglasses. No wonder they wore sunglasses inside, everything was blindingly white. The little boy in the corner lowered his head into his huddled form, not ready for whatever the Guys In White wanted to do with him.

The agent on the left scowled at the boy sitting on the floor. "Get up scum," He said with distaste. The boy did not move. A sinister smile played on the agents lips, suddenly happy with the turn of events.

"I said GET UP." He sent a smashing kick to the white haired boy's gut, the little experiment whimpered and slowly rose to his feet. His hands were in chains, a blinking green collar wrapped tight around his neck. A metal muzzle covered his nose and mouth, his cries being the only words ever coming from the halfa. His eyes had a hunted, defeated, look about them, a dull green sheen in his colorless life.

The other agent quickly and forcibly shoved the boy towards the door, the other agent walking behind him. The boy never looked up, for it was a sign of defiance, and if he even showed a hint of disobedience it was a one way ticket to painvill. Population? Him.

They walked briskly, the boy barely able to keep up with their longer and more muscular legs, while the boys were bone thin. His scrawniness showed through the thin fabric that was his clothes, his rib cage and hips and sunken in cheeks all testified of the boy's lack of nourishment. The long white corridors seemed endless and empty. Anyone would of been able to hear a pin drop. It was rather unsettling.

The trio came upon a heavy double door that the boy knew led to the experimentation room. Fear and bile rose in his throat, but he swallowed it, those things only egged the agents on. The agent in front swiped his ID card and the door unlocked with an audible CLUNK. The experiment was shoved as they entered the room, a table rested in the middle, a few straps were left hanging and were stained a dark green. A tray on a wheeled cart was next to the table, tools, test tubes, chemicals, needles, all the things that brought pain and suffering into the experiments life. Although he'd been here countless times before the boy's breathing still quickened when he saw the table, his heart hammering with memories of indescribable pain.

To his surprize (and somewhat relief) the agents guided him past the table, going through another set of double doors into a wide open room with a tall ceiling. He had seen this room before, but only on special occasions. It was the training room. Every now and then they would put him in this room and he would fight robots they created. Sometimes he won, sometimes he did not. It took weeks for him to recover from those fights, they were brutal and if he ever won it was not without loss.

The agents left the white haired experiment standing there, feeling dwarfed in the large room with the equally large agents. They went through a secret door on the right, the boy made no move to follow them, he knew what to do in this room. He couldn't help but feel vulnerable and weak in the large space, he preferred small spaces-but not too small, there was different experiment they did to him that created that phobia.

Dull green eyes shifted under the matted silvery hair, he knew they were watching through some special glass mirror, silently judging his actions and deciding whether or not to punish him for bad performance or take him back to his cell to rot.

"Specimen G-01, begin." the intercom sounded in a monotone voice.

That was it, no instructions, just, begin. The boy looked around the room, knowing the routine. He took a step back when a trap door opened on the floor a few yards from him. The light on the experiments collar turned a shade of orange, something like relief washed over the boy, akin to air filling his lungs after nearly being forced to drown. His wrists were freed as the handcuffs fell to the floor, automatically unlocked by some control room somewhere.