Subject Child (BBSx Reader GTAverse)

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Your POV

Everyone from the gang challenged me in the ring. Well, everyone except Vanoss, Delirious, and Terrorizer. I understand why Delirious and Terrorizer didn't challenge me, they were still healing after my retaliation to them kidnaping me. But Vanoss... I still don't know why he hasn't challenged me. Problem is, the heat I created from my match with Wildcat only got hotter with each and every other match. So right now, I was beating the sand out of a punching bag. And I mean quite literally beating the sand out of it. There were multiple slits in the fabric, and sand was very slowly spilling out of the bag. The heat from the matches still coursing through me as I threw punch after punch at the bag. I was trying to cancel out the heat, but I knew that I would have to take a cold shower later to calm down. Just as long as I didn't catch the bag on fire, I would be fine. I had beat every one I sparred against. They had all gotten tired, but I had still been breathing evenly and continued to size up my opponents every time I got the chance. You never want to just enter a fight. You always want to inspect an opponent, try to find their strengths and weaknesses just by looking at them. I kicked the bag, making it swing and pour out more sand. I used its momentum to my advantage. I punched straight at it as it swung down, intercepting it before it could swing the other way. My fist connected with the bag, going straight through the fabric. The momentum of the bag slamming into my arm as my fist went through pushed me back a bit, but my arm wouldn't dislodge from the bag. I placed my other hand on the bag and tried pulling my arm out. It didn't budge.

"God fucking dammit." I mumbled. "How the fuck did I even do this?" I heard someone chuckle from behind me. I turned as much as I could to see Brock leaning against the wall, watching me.

"You stuck?" He pushed off the wall and came to me, grabbing both sides of the bag to hold it in place. "I'll hold it. Now try." I pulled again, still not getting my arm to move. "God damn. How is your arm stuck like this." I pulled harder, moving my arm as much as I could. Some sand spilled out as I moved my arm. "Jesus Christ what did you do?"

"I don't fucking know." Brock let go of the bag and came to my side, grabbing my arm. He tugged on my arm, which still wouldn't budge. I looked down at Icicle, sheathed at my waist. "I can cut away the fabric."

"Go ahead." I grabbed Icicle and cut the fabric. More sand spilled out. I was able to see my arm. I was shocked and worried when I saw my arm surrounded by glass. "What the fuck?!" Brock released my arm as I removed it from the bag, the glass clinging to it. I sheathed Icicle and knocked on the glass, feeling it vibrate against my arm. I waved my arm up and down, the glass not moving an inch. I sighed and turned to the wall. I slammed my arm up against the wall, shattering on impact. Brock backed up as the glass rained down. I examined my arm, seeing nothing. I sighed, relieved. Than I remembered Brock, who was strong down at the glass on the floor.

"What the fuck was that noise?" Wildcat called from the shooting range. I was about to say something, but Brock beat me to it.

"Nothing. Hound just dropped her knife." Brock yelled, quickly turning to the shooting range before turning back to me. "Okay, what the hell was that. A human being cannot create glass by punching sand. You better tell me what's going on before the others find out and take things into their own hands." I looked at Brock, than the pieces of glass on the floor, than to the punching bag. "Well?" I whirled my head back to him, the heat pulsing under my skin. I was about to growl a retort, but when I looked at him, I saw actual worry on his face. I clamped down on my tongue, sighing through my nose. I shook my head.

"There's nothing going on." I mumbled, turning from Brock. I walked towards another punching bag and heard footsteps following me. I stopped in front of another bag and took up a challenging stance, raising my fists in front of my face. I threw two punches at the bag, continuing this pattern as I watched Brock lean up against the wall to my right. I ignored Brock, continuing to give my full attention to me beating the shit out of this new bag.

"Hound, what's going on?" I ground my teeth together.

"Again, there's nothing." I kicked at the punching bag, making it swing again. Not wanting my arm to get stuck again, I caught the bag, stopping its swing. I watched out of the corner of my eye as Brock pushed off the wall, walking up to me. I stepped back from the punching bag, bringing my fists up again, preparing to swing at it again, when Brock grabbed my wrist, pulling on my jackets sleeve. His hand went to the cut in the fabric of the jacket, opening the slit. He studied my arm, the area where the cut should of been. I forgot to wrap the bandages around it again, to try and avert any suspicion. I watched him, as he studied my arm before looking back up at me.

"And are you going to tell me that a cut managed to heal a day after you got it, is nothing as well." I pulled my arm from his grip, just as the heat centred at where Brock's hand was. To close. That was to close. I shook my head, turning back to the punching bag, just for Brock to step in front of me. "Hound, your hiding something. What are you hiding?" I looked at Brock's face, studying him. I could tell he wouldn't let this go, but I wasn't going to let all my secrets spill. I bared my fangs at him, then turned away.

"How many times do I have to say it! There's nothing going on. And I am not hiding anything!" I growled, walking towards another punching bag. This time, Brock didn't follow, thankfully. I ran a hand over my face. I didn't want to deal with people questioning me. To be honest, even if I wanted to tell them about what happened to me, I couldn't. I can't remember anything that happened when I was a subject to the scientists. I'm certain I would get some of the memories back with time, but I'm not certain how long it will take. I'm not certain how I will react to gaining my memories. Right now, I just needed to get my mind off it. I put a hand on the new punching bag, looking around the warehouse. Was joining the BBS crew really a good idea? If it meant stressing out about my secrets, then maybe I should of just burnt them all to a crisp. Then I wouldn't have had to deal with this shit. I spun and round house kicked the punching bag, changing from left to right and continuously switching between them. The bag was swinging furiously. My feet were creating tears in the fabric, the more I kicked, the bigger they became. Right now, anger was controlling my movements. I switched back to punching at the bag. I left hooked the bag, then brought my elbow across it, tearing more of the fabric. Everything was a blur, all my motions one big movement. I couldn't hear anything, the only sound crackling fire in my ears. My breathing got heavier. I don't know what was happening. I couldn't make sense of what I was seeing, of what I was hearing. Something landed on my shoulder, snapping me from whatever trance I was in. Whatever had been on my shoulder quickly pulled away from me, and I heard someone curse under their breath, and I just realized that my body had started heating again. I whipped around to find Delirious behind me, shaking out his hand.

"Holy shit! Why is your shoulder so fucking hot?!" He whisper yelled. I growled at him.

"What do you want."

"I was calling your name for five minutes. We're leaving." He turned and walked towards the door. I blinked, watching his back. I quickly looked around the warehouse and saw that everyone else was already gone. I slowly followed Delirious out and to the cars. He got in, and Brock was the only one who was outside the car waiting for me. He had sympathy on his face, and concern. I hated it, the pity that he was showing. I slipped into the car, and Brock came in after me. I tried to rein in the heat radiating off my body. I really would need to take a cold shower once we got back to the base. I remained silent as the others started talking as Vanoss drove away from the warehouse. Not realizing it, I zoned out, my thoughts drifting back to what had happened to me while I was a subject. What exactly had they done to me? And, mainly, what was the name of their corporation?

"Hound?" My head snapped up at Vanoss' voice. "I need to know. How did you throw Wildcat like that?" I stared at the back of his head as Delirious and Brock went quiet. I remained quiet, not certain how I actually threw him. "Hound?"

"I don't know. I just, did." I mumbled. Vanoss sighed, but remained quiet. Nobody talked the rest of the way to the base.