A Modern Myth

Chapter 9

Withered, tormenting, challenging and traumatizing years passed. Eight to be precise.

Day in and out, dealing with constant pressure and abuse; both physically and mentally. Trained until their bodies couldn't take anymore; for a cause, they knew nothing about for reasons untold. Still locked in the dark, and blind of the motives behind the excessive and extreme measures to drill into their minds.

Now young men, of the other squads were found hung in their own rooms, no note. Nothing. Others, attempt to escape only to be shot on sight. Then, there are others who took their razor blades to their throat, or wrists. Anything to end the excruciating plague of torment they called their lives. They couldn't live a life of despair and anguish, never knowing if there was something else out there. If there was no way out.

These young men and women are led to believe, there was nowhere else, and no one else out there for them. They were alone, and this was their only sanctuary. Where they call home.

Most dealt with everything that was thrown at them. Never questioning The Governor's motion. Obeying the orders, like drones. Brainless, mechanical beings. Listening and quick to respond to any request or demand. If they received food, water, and shelter, even a bed. They didn't complain. As some shouldn't, they could be worse off - Dead, but that option clearly, was a better one for some.

Eight years on, and Earth still treated Nickolai like the outcast. Even during life-threatening missions, scoping restricted and dangerous grounds for equipment; they didn't bat an eyelash if it concerned his safety. Luckily for him, he didn't need their help.

Nickolai never relied on anyone, but himself.

The once young, timid and broken half-elf was now, a strong, determined and treacherous young man. Standing tall, six feet and five inches. His vibrant crimson hair, naturally spiked and of course, the left side is heavier than the right. A thick, fringe falling over the left side of his face. Almost hiding his cyan shade eye. He spoke with a soft and soothing tone, yet it held anger deep within. His ears, longer, almost the length of his hair. There's no hiding them anymore. He was fit, athletic and built. Agile, and strong. He was the most defined out of his squad since the others became lazy and cheated their way out of training.

While he may be a very vigorous young man. He held not a single inch or thread of trust towards anyone but Jake. Scars embedded across his entire body, like a map. From head to toe; Reminding him of the past – it was real – constantly retaining him on why he was there. Anger still resides so heavily inside of him, and questions screamed in his mind, desperate for answers – to seek the truth. He was curious, dead inquisitive when it came to this place.

Nickolai wasn't subject to the brainwashing that went on. He knew better. He knew there was something filled with dread going on in this place, behind closed doors. Behind the thick walls. Lies and tales spread across the field, and there was nothing he could do about it.

He couldn't ask around if he were to voice any objection or subject of inquisitiveness he'd be thrown into The Chamber, and forgotten about. There was never a time, or space to question their motive, and role. Those who did were never heard from again. Gone in the thick mist of the night, vanished.

This didn't stop Nickolai, from pursuing a quest on his own. In the shadows, and silently digging for anything he could find, or see – any form of proof. Anything to link them to something. Anything insidious.

He knew he'd find something, because unlike the majority – if not all of them – He knew something wasn't right. Even though he didn't know of a life outside of these walls, only what he saw on his first mission outside, and that itself was a very small glimmer at such a young age.