This story is written for the Open Novella Contest III, using Mystery/Thriller prompt number 56. Hope you enjoy. And to whoever else is entering, good luck!
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The last thing 05 remembered was crashing his spaceship.
The second-last thing 05 remembered was surpassing Saturn's speed limit, so he'd probably deserved to crash his spaceship.
He opened his eyes, then immediately wished he'd kept them shut when an onslaught of light blinded him. Something was pressing against his temple; it wasn't painful, exactly, just rather unpleasant.
Once the bright spots faded from his vision, his gaze darted around the room. He was lying on a bed---albeit a terribly uncomfortable one. Next to him was a strange pole, a bag filled with some sort of liquid attached to it. A few feet away from him was an exact duplicate of the bed-and-pole, a pale lump huddled up on it.
Other than that, the room was empty.
05's stomach tilted. He tried to leap from the mattress, but something tugged at his limbs---and at the throbbing item against his forehead. A quick look down at himself revealed tubes and wires criss-crossing his entire midsection, worming themselves underneath the odd white robe he wore. And his body...what the hell was that thing?
05 stared in horror. Where was his tail, his tough, scaly skin? Where were his strong arms and stout legs? Where were his flippers? Instead, his entire form looked like a mess of knobbly, pale sticks capable of being snapped in one twist.
When he tried to turn in an attempt to dislodge his restraints, something dug into his tender side. 05 grabbed it, not knowing what else to do. It was a thick, white envelope. His nails---short, stubby things, useless compared to his former long claws---tore at the flap and pulled it open. A sheet of paper lay inside, horribly thin in contrast to its outer layer.
05 found it a waste of a good envelope.
Still, he flipped it open, his eyes frantically scanning the small, cramped print. It took some effort to read the handwriting, but he managed---somehow.
To whoever's lying all doped up in the bed right now, probably being strangled by those unnecessary tubes...the body you're wearing used to be mine. I'm writing this letter to you for your survival. The rest is...complicated.
I'm Maverick Harris, but people call me Red. Long story involving a dare and a bottle of ketchup. You don't want to know, really. Anyway, I was the previous occupant of this body, but the government killed me and somehow managed to shift you in. The only reason I'm able to write this is because I know someone high up in the ranks.
Basically, you've been thrown into a living hell. (Really sorry about that, but it's not my fault!) So, the very same government that sadly eradicated me is going to chuck you into a giant steel maze and make you play their sick, twisted game full of traps and death. There are other players, too. My advice to you is to find them. Just like you, well, me, they've been handpicked by the government, so they must be good for something.
I can't help you much, as I've got, like, two minutes more before I die, but just know that I wish you good luck, new Red. I'm rooting for you. To help you along, this letter is connected to my memories. The moment it's destroyed, you'll get all of them. This is so you'll find it easier to live as me.
This letter will self-destruct in five, four, three, two...
The paper exploded in 05's hands.
And his head instantly erupted in unimaginable pain.
He curled up into a ball as spots flashed before his eyes and images ran through his head. His fragile body shuddered in agony as the memories 'Red' had mentioned flooded into his mind. 05 couldn't help the low whimper that escaped him as his frame shook until a few tubes popped right off.
And then it was all over.
05 gently touched the side of his head, wincing. He knew what he was now: a boy. A mere human boy leading a mere human life. He knew where he was now: a hospital in a research facility, and judging by the way it had water, he was on Earth. He knew who he was now: Red Harris, eighteen years old, 6'1, weighing 123 lbs with an IQ of 110.
It felt so wrong.
"You're awake," a new voice rasped. Red swivelled around. The lump in the other bed was sitting up, revealing itself to be another boy. He was skinny and short, seemingly unrestrained. A thin sheen of peachy fuzz covered his head, only a shade or two darker than his skin. But it was his eyes that made Red shudder---unnaturally large and blue and so, so, dead.
He'd never seen such lifeless pupils before.
The strange boy grinned, his empty eyes making his smile almost creepy. "I'm Ari, and we're both going to die."
"What...what are we doing here?" Red asked, not daring to raise his voice above a whisper.
Ari's smile remained affixed upon his face. "We're Vanguard's new players."
Red's new brain pushed a memory out---Vanguard, the maze they were going to be thrown into, and therefore the game they were going to play. As the previous Red had mentioned in his letter, it was full of traps and death.
Red leaned over the side of the bed and puked on the floor. A tiny stream of bile dribbled from his lips, his empty stomach whining in protest. "Oh my god," he moaned. "This has to be some kind of nightmare."
Ari's grin was unnerving. "Oh no, this is all real."
The doors flew open.
A tall, sharp-nosed man in black strolled in, the glare of the lights reflecting off his bald head. Flanking him were three others, clad in the same black suits but with guns hanging at their sides. Red involuntarily shuddered. These men radiated power and intimidation.
The leader casually walked up to his bedside, leering down at him. "Hello, Red," he cooed, his voice a practiced purr. "We thought you'd never wake up. You've been in a coma for days. Weeks, even."
Something snapped. Maybe Red's will to live had finally kicked in, maybe the man's aura had sparked enough fear in him for him to function, maybe he realised he wasn't Red, but 05. He scurried back, throwing a hand out in a sad attempt to keep the man at bay. "Go away!" he cried. "I'm...I'm not Red! My name is 05. I'm an ambassador of planet X9-7, son of the king's chief advisor...please let me go! I'm not from here! I'm not an Earthling!"
The man's sneer widened. "Oh, really? Then how come I can understand you?"
"We speak English too," the boy managed, his voice a shaky mumble.
The man threw his head back and laughed. "Look at him," he chuckled, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. "The poor little boy thinks that pretending to be an alien will save him." His teeth were like knives, gleaming, piercing, speaking of the death that lay ahead.
He quickly sobered up, though, his malicious grin fading away. Straightening his back, he pointed to Ari. "Shoot him," he ordered.
Before Red's eyes, the armed men turned all at once, bullets pinging from their guns and embedding themselves into Ari's chest in one fluid movement. Ari didn't even blink. He sat there, those dead eyes staring into space, his lips still curled in a smile. It was almost like he had been expecting it. When his body finally fell, slumping off the bed and to the ground, his lifeless gaze looked the same as before.
Red let out a sob.
The leader came even closer, leaning down so he was eye-to-eye with his prey. His breath reeked of onions. "So, Red Harris, choose your poison. Either you cooperate with us..."
He slid his fingers across his throat. "Or you meet the same fate."
