Survival Instincts

Chapter 2 - Escape Pt.1

Over a week had been spent studying the layout of the GIW facility. Vlad focused on memorizing each and every level and hallway, while Tucker studied their security. Sam had been training intensely for the entire week, fueled by anger and disgust at the organization.

They were finally prepared. The three met in the lab, each equipping themselves with their respective tools. Tucker had a visor over his head that allowed him to detect ecto-energy as well as heat signatures. Vlad held a laptop and a large ecto-cannon was strapped to his back. Sam was supplied with several ecto-blasters and a staff. 

The three each had custom suits, Vlad's seeming more like a suit of armor, whereas Tucker had a thicker, sturdier set to keep him safe if he was stuck in the middle of hacking. Sam's was lithe and skin-tight so she could move swiftly.

"Are we all clear on the plan?" Vlad asked, voice cold and stern. The two teens nodded firmly.

"I'm in charge of defense. I'll sneak in and take down as many guards as possible." Sam stated. She shifted her weight to one leg and crossed her arms.

"I'll hack the systems in order to scramble the cameras, release the doors, and free the ghosts!" Tucker added, giving a thumbs up.

"And I will work on destroying their defenses." Vlad nodded. "I'll take down the ghost shield. Are you all prepared? We leave tonight. Make sure you have your night-vision goggles. Remember, the child is our first priority." He clenched his fists. Hold on just a little longer, he thought about the ghosts. We'll be there soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The boy coughed, seeing the blood spatter the floor of his cell. The fluoroantimonic acid had destroyed everything on the path from his mouth to his stomach. Even after a week had passed, his throat was still torn and burned. Breathing was excruciating, and he knew talking would be impossible. He leaned against the wall of his tiny six by six cell.

There was nothing in the cell with him except links on the wall to chain him to and a small cloth. The cloth was filthy, covered in blood, ectoplasm, and vomit, similar to the surrounding walls. It was the only thing he could use to try and wipe his wounds.

He stared up at the ceiling vacantly. He felt utterly numb. At least he hadn't been punished for several days. He experienced another lashing session after his experience with the acid. The scientists insisted that it wasn't enough of a punishment; he needed to be shown how 'pitiful' and 'disgusting' he was. So they resorted to the classic: their ectoranium enhanced whip.

He laid down in the corner, trying not to let a sob wrack his body. If he cried, he would be in even more pain than he was already. His chest heaved as he tried desperately to calm his breathing. The pain was unbearable. He didn't need to make it worse.

He closed his eyes, steadying himself. He let his mind drift to Wulf, wondering how he was doing. Hopefully he hadn't been punished similarly to the boy. He was the only friend he had. He was the ghost who helped him learn to fight, how to speak, and tried to help him write. Wulf, though powerful, was not the smartest. The boy was thinking about when the canine ghost fumbled with a pen that one of the agents had dropped. 

He would have smiled if his mouth wasn't ragged flaps of torn flesh. 

He gently touched his throat, trying to assess the damage. His lower jaw was still burned through, causing him to occasionally drool accidentally. His throat was slowly healing. The skin was gradually stretching back over the gaping wound. The perforation in his stomach had fortunately reformed so the acid would stop seeping into his abdominal cavity.