I awoke for the first time, a blinding light shining in my eyes. In that instant I didn't know where I was, what I was doing strapped to a medical table or even who I myself was. All I knew was that I wanted out. I couldn't see straight with the light in my eyes but what I could hear terrified me, gun shots. It sounded like a war raging all around me and I didn't know who was shooting at who but I knew that they were shooting over me.
My head hurt. It was a funny thing to think about at a time like that but it was true. There were some sort of electrodes that were cutting into my temples. Maybe taking my vitals... or reading my mind, who was I to make assumptions. That's when I realized there was something cold, long and metallic in my left hand.
It wasn’t exactly a knife, more like those little butter knives that Doctors use, scalpels. It was sliced halfway through the cuff that held my left hand and I could feel from the crusty slick sensation on my wrist that however I had cut into the cuff before I hadn't been too careful. As soon as I realized the knife was there I started to saw at the cuff, over and over again, back and forth, back and forth. The scalpel slipped several times cutting my hand and wrist but I didn't care, as long as I got freedom.
The scalpel pushed through the cuff and I ripped it off with all the strength I could muster. I scrabbled at the cuff binding my other hand. It was like a belt buckle and I fumbled at it trying to get it off with one hand while bullets ricochet around me. I finally managed to uncuff myself then I set to work on the strap running over my breast and finally the ones cuffing my legs to the table, I ripped the electrodes from my temples.
I was free at last. This can't have come from nowhere; I must have wanted freedom for a long time before this. I ducked down taking cover behind the operating table that so recently had been my prison but I wasn't free yet. The table's overhead light shattered as bullets sliced through the air all around me. A computer system that had been linked to the electrodes on my temples was knocked to the ground by the lead flying through the air.
A boy of about sixteen slid to the floor next to me. He had black hair, and pale skin. He looked like he was born to be a star athlete but had been kept caged indoors all his life. He was wearing black body armor and had a pistol gripped in his hand. "This is it pipsqueak." He used the name pipsqueak like a friend might use an insult. No malice behind the words just a light smile. He ruffled my hair affectionately, like we were old friends.
"This is your chance to get out and we both know how much you want that." The smile had gone from his face now. He looked like he was losing something precious to him but at the same time he knew had to let it go. "I'm suck here now, tied down but you haven't been tagged yet. You can still get out."
I did want that, desperately but could I just leave him here. It was obvious that we were close, what was he to me, a brother? Friend? Boyfriend? Commanding Officer? I didn't know and I didn't have time to find out. I needed to leave and like he said, he couldn't come with. "Alright, how do I get out?"
The boy cocked his head to the side, clearly I was supposed to know this complex well. A sudden thought seemed to occurred to him and he looked suddenly at the high tech computer monitoring equipment that was laid out in pieces all over the concrete ground. He looked back at me. "Soldier?" He asked, concerned. "What's my name?"
He looked frightened for the first time. The boy was fine with flying bullets and even letting his... whatever I was to him go if it meant I'd get out but the thought that I didn't know him seemed to cut deeper than any wound ever could. I knew it would cut him to ribbons but I had no answer to his question. I shrugged foolishly.
He seemed to struggle with a decision before he continued to speak. "Alright it doesn't matter, you still need to get out of here. Go through those door." He pointed to two swinging doors ten feet from the other side of the table. "Run down that hall and go through the door marked imports. That's where they unload new supplies from overseas. I know you’re a good swimmer and I believe you can make it." He glanced at the other soldiers blocking way to the door with their guns. "I'll lay down cover fire. You just go."
This boy, whoever he was, was trying to help her. It was clear that he knew who she was and wanted her to be safe. Before I went I needed to know something. No matter how much it would hurt him. "Thank you so much, What's your name?"
He looked at her like he'd just been slugged over the head with his pistol. What he'd figured out earlier had clearly just become real. He knew that I should know his name but he didn't pause. "Lucas, now whatever happens you have to run. Faster and harder than you've ever run before and I know how much you like to run, no computer's gonna erase that. GO NOW!"
I looked at Lucas my worries and fears and sorrow etched into my face. Then I ran for the door. He was right. I could feel it in my bones, the urge to run. It was the most magnificent sensation I'd ever felt and If I'd been raised here I suppose it was the closest thing to freedom I ever knew. I could hear Lucas start to fire behind me, feel the bullets flying so close to my skin but I never stopped running. Not when I heard Lucas hit the ground behind me, not even when a bullet grazed my arm. I stumbled and clamped my hand over the wound. It burned like the setting sun but I just kept running, pushing through the swinging doors at full force and I kept moving.
The corridor I entered was white, empty and pristine. I didn't let anything distract me. I kept running reading the doors as I passed. “Testing" "Trials" "Storage" "Imports". I skidded to a stop sliding several feet past the door. Recovering I pushed through hard as I could.
Clearly with soldiers storming the compound no one had time to man the import/export room. There was a huge square section of water that must have been ten or fifteen meters across either way. Without thinking, I jumped in.
The water was cold and it burned against my wound as it stained a path through the water red. The tunnel I was swimming through led down, down, down so far the light all but faded from my sight. Finally it leveled off. My lungs were burning, about to burst but I just kept pushing and pushing till the tunnel finally curved upward. I could see day light so far up. My chest started heaving, trying to grab at oxygen that wasn't available.
I fought to keep the sensation down as I pushed and pushed and pushed my way to the surface. My head was pounding and my chest aching when I finally breached the surface of the water. I pulled myself up onto a dock heaving over and over again trying to satisfy the demands for air that my lungs were making. My breathing started to normalize somewhat and I puked into the water bellow me.
My joints ached, my chest hurt, and my head throbbed but I managed to muster the strength to sit up and look at my surroundings. Whatever town, city, or country I was in I appeared to be in the waterfront warehouse district. Judging from the length of the tunnel I had to guess that the compound I was in was located underneath the giant warehouse to my left.
I could hardly breathe but I knew that I needed to get away from that building as quick as I could before either the invading soldiers or the native ones caught me. I didn't want to end up in either of their hands. I stood up quickly the fear of recapture pumping adrenaline into my blood, the aches and pains clearing away from my joints.
I stood unsteadily looking around myself. Then I ran, ran for all I was worth. I couldn't tell you how far I ran but when I finally stopped I was far away from the warehouse district, somewhere down town. I kept going at a slower pace. I got several looks from passersby. I must have looked very suspicious. A white, blond girl, soaked to the skin, bloood staining one arm, alone in a bad part of town. Nobody stopped me though which was a blessing.
As I was walking I caught my reflection in a shop window and I examined it. As far as I knew this was the first time I'd seen myself. Apart from looking dead beat tired I did look very out of place. My hair was blonde, disheveled and wet, clinging to my face like a bug on flypaper. There was blood drying on my arm and my clothes also didn't look normal. I was wearing a blue tank top that would breathe well in hot environments and a pair of pale green pants that would blend into most terrains well.
The pants were loose fitting enough so that I could be very flexible but tight enough that they wouldn't get in my way or chaff. Just like the shirt they breathed well and strapped to my left leg was what looked like a holster for the type of pistol that Lucas was carrying. Who was I? What the hell was going on?
A smell hit my nose, something warm and gooey. Something I'd eaten before. It was then that I realized I couldn't remember the last time I'd eaten (which wasn't saying much) but given the growling snarls my stomach was giving it must have been at least twelve hours. I needed food badly. I followed the aroma to a breakfast diner called "Grandma's Kitchen". I sat down at one of the booths and it wasn't long before a waitress dropped off a menu. I could tell from the pictures that the dish that I smelled from the streets was the "Waffle House Special" I vaguely remembered an elderly woman serving me a similar dish. We were happy then, content. I wondered how long ago that was.
The waitress came back five minutes later. It felt like an eternity. She set the Waffle House Special down in front of me and walked away. I smiled like a wolf about to devour its prey. It was two waffles stacked on top of each other. There was a mountain of whipped cream topped off with straw and blue berries and a little pitcher of syrup set next to it.
I dumped the syrup all over the dish and I took one bite... It was like heaven. All the flavors clashed violently in my mouth and my stomach demanded more. I deconstructed the entire dish in a matter of minutes. Scrapping the last vestiges of syrup and whipped cream off the plate.
I smiled contentedly, full and happy for just a moment before the waitress set something else down in front of me. It was a little black tray with a recipe on top of it. "Whenever you’re ready." She said sweetly. Money, this hadn't even occurred to me when I'd walked in. I understood the underlying principle of course. Several different objects assigned various values designed to equalize the worth of products for a more efficient exchange system.
The problem was I didn't have any. I'd just escaped from a secret facility buried under the warehouse district while it was under siege. Where was I supposed to get money from? I glanced towards the door. That was always an option. Just run, it was after all something I was good at. The owner would just think I was another free loading degenerate, no harm done.
I got up slowly walking to the door. Step by step I got closer to freedom. I'd escape a guarded facility, this couldn't be any harder. A man stepped in my way, just in front of the door. He was wearing an apron and a chef's hat. "Did you enjoy your meal?" He asked as though we were having a casual conversation. I was trapped; this was clearly either the owner or the chef, maybe even both. I had no way to get out without attracting far more attention than I needed. "Yes it was quiet good, the addition of the berries added to it." I said, playing along. I couldn't pay him, didn't have the means to pay him. I wouldn't even know where to get money.
"You reckon it was good enough, I don't know, to pay for?" He was getting to the point now. What would he do if I told him outright that I didn't have any money? Would he hall me down to the police station, they might give me back to that facility. I couldn't go back, not ever. "Yeah, I guess so. If I had the money I'm sure I would have paid with a generous tip."
He sighed looking annoyed; this was clearly not the first time this had happened. "Look girl, what's your name?" Name? Name! Why was I drawing a blank? I had to have a name. Everyone had a name. But I couldn't find mine amidst all the turmoil of my mind. I couldn't tell him that though. He'd drag me down to a psych center.
I glanced around and my eyes locked on a comic book some kid was reading at the counter. It was a Batman Comic, about some clown in white face paint. There was a girl on the page too that was dressed like the clown. Her name came to me and I sliced it up and presented it to the cook. "Quinn, My name's Quinn."
He continued his sentence. "Look Quinn," He could tell I was lying about my name. "You’re not the only one with problems. I got a wife, a mortgage and three kids to look after." How was I supposed to answer to that? In the grand scheme of things my one little meal wouldn't empty his pocket but I knew that if word got round that he let me go without paying then this place would become central to every man, woman, and child without the money to feed themselves and he would likely go out of business.
Still how could I respond to that? The guy was clearly nice but I didn't have the money to pay for the delicious meal he'd made for me. I supposed that I could just tell him that. "I'm sorry I tried to cheat you but I don't have the money to pay for my meal. I just... really needed something to eat." He sighed again, a bit more sympathetic this time. "Alright, if I let you leave will you promise to come back with the money you owe me?"
"No." The word just sort of slipped out and I wished to high heaven that I could take it back. It would have been so easy. Say that I'd come back with the money and disappear into the wind. But he seemed like a nice guy and I knew that what I told him was the truth. He couldn't trust me to come back. "No?" He asked dumbfounded. "What do you mean no? Are you saying you can't be trusted?"
Clearly the few people he'd taken pity on whether they'd come back with the money or not had always taken the option to leave. Hearing someone say they were untrustworthy, well, ever must have been a bit of a shock. "Is there a problem here Sal?" Asked a man turned from his seat. I could see a police badge hooked to the pocket of his jeans and the bulge in his jacket said that he was armed. "I'll let you know Jack."
Then his eyes turned back to me, searching for an answer. "If you seriously want the truth then, I don't know." What was I doing, I couldn't tell him about the lab or the facility and he'd just think I was insane if I pulled the amnesia card, just the basics then. "I woke up this morning in an alley, drenched to the skin, cold, tired and hungry and drawn to the aroma of the Waffle House Special." I couldn't let this go any further. He was a nice man and he didn't deserve the misfortune of meeting me but he had and I needed to end it now.
"I just want you to know that I'm really sorry and if I ever have the chance, I'll pay you back some day." With lightning quick reflexes I grabbed his arm, twisting it around his back slamming his head into the nearest table. "I'm sorry." I said though I knew there was no way he'd accept it. There was a click behind me. "Let him go and put your hands on your head!" It was the cop, Jack. He was clearly a friend of Sal's and probably a regular at the diner.
"I'm so sorry, I-I just wanted something to eat." I spun fast grabbed the end of the gun and pushed it skyward. It went off once into the ceiling showering plaster over us. I cracked it one way out of Jack's hand with a sickening crack that said I'd broken his trigger finger. I moved the gun behind me and hit Sal in the middle of the back with the butt. Then I kicked Jack hard in the stomach so that he fell back into the counter. The entire fight couldn't have taken more than a twenty seconds. I held up the gun clicking the safety off, my finger on the trigger, aimed with pinpoint accuracy at Jack's forehead. "Don't try to follow me or I swear I'll shoot you." I turned and ran shoving the gun into the holster on my leg. It didn't fit quite right, it wasn't the right make of firearm for the gun but it would do well enough. I ran and kept running and running till my legs threatened to give out. Then I collapsed in an alleyway tears streaming down my face.
What was I doing, stealing food, attacking chiefs, stealing police firearms? And where had I learned fight like that or gained that much strength, or learning to aim a gun. It hadn't occurred to me before that it might be abnormal for normal people to have not drowned getting out of that tunnel or not been able to go as far as I did afterwards. What had I done in my past? Who that had a good place in the world would know those moves or have that endurance or have a pistol strapped to their leg.
I thought about it, curled into a ball, my face pressed into my legs, tears running down my face till I fell asleep there in the middle of the day, in an alley way. No protection, no friends, no backup, no plan. I just slept.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Being honest here this started out as a Role Play but now I just want to write the story. If anyone has an suggestions I'd be glad to take them and I suppose if there was enough interest I'd think about turning it back into a role play.
My head hurt. It was a funny thing to think about at a time like that but it was true. There were some sort of electrodes that were cutting into my temples. Maybe taking my vitals... or reading my mind, who was I to make assumptions. That's when I realized there was something cold, long and metallic in my left hand.
It wasn’t exactly a knife, more like those little butter knives that Doctors use, scalpels. It was sliced halfway through the cuff that held my left hand and I could feel from the crusty slick sensation on my wrist that however I had cut into the cuff before I hadn't been too careful. As soon as I realized the knife was there I started to saw at the cuff, over and over again, back and forth, back and forth. The scalpel slipped several times cutting my hand and wrist but I didn't care, as long as I got freedom.
The scalpel pushed through the cuff and I ripped it off with all the strength I could muster. I scrabbled at the cuff binding my other hand. It was like a belt buckle and I fumbled at it trying to get it off with one hand while bullets ricochet around me. I finally managed to uncuff myself then I set to work on the strap running over my breast and finally the ones cuffing my legs to the table, I ripped the electrodes from my temples.
I was free at last. This can't have come from nowhere; I must have wanted freedom for a long time before this. I ducked down taking cover behind the operating table that so recently had been my prison but I wasn't free yet. The table's overhead light shattered as bullets sliced through the air all around me. A computer system that had been linked to the electrodes on my temples was knocked to the ground by the lead flying through the air.
A boy of about sixteen slid to the floor next to me. He had black hair, and pale skin. He looked like he was born to be a star athlete but had been kept caged indoors all his life. He was wearing black body armor and had a pistol gripped in his hand. "This is it pipsqueak." He used the name pipsqueak like a friend might use an insult. No malice behind the words just a light smile. He ruffled my hair affectionately, like we were old friends.
"This is your chance to get out and we both know how much you want that." The smile had gone from his face now. He looked like he was losing something precious to him but at the same time he knew had to let it go. "I'm suck here now, tied down but you haven't been tagged yet. You can still get out."
I did want that, desperately but could I just leave him here. It was obvious that we were close, what was he to me, a brother? Friend? Boyfriend? Commanding Officer? I didn't know and I didn't have time to find out. I needed to leave and like he said, he couldn't come with. "Alright, how do I get out?"
The boy cocked his head to the side, clearly I was supposed to know this complex well. A sudden thought seemed to occurred to him and he looked suddenly at the high tech computer monitoring equipment that was laid out in pieces all over the concrete ground. He looked back at me. "Soldier?" He asked, concerned. "What's my name?"
He looked frightened for the first time. The boy was fine with flying bullets and even letting his... whatever I was to him go if it meant I'd get out but the thought that I didn't know him seemed to cut deeper than any wound ever could. I knew it would cut him to ribbons but I had no answer to his question. I shrugged foolishly.
He seemed to struggle with a decision before he continued to speak. "Alright it doesn't matter, you still need to get out of here. Go through those door." He pointed to two swinging doors ten feet from the other side of the table. "Run down that hall and go through the door marked imports. That's where they unload new supplies from overseas. I know you’re a good swimmer and I believe you can make it." He glanced at the other soldiers blocking way to the door with their guns. "I'll lay down cover fire. You just go."
This boy, whoever he was, was trying to help her. It was clear that he knew who she was and wanted her to be safe. Before I went I needed to know something. No matter how much it would hurt him. "Thank you so much, What's your name?"
He looked at her like he'd just been slugged over the head with his pistol. What he'd figured out earlier had clearly just become real. He knew that I should know his name but he didn't pause. "Lucas, now whatever happens you have to run. Faster and harder than you've ever run before and I know how much you like to run, no computer's gonna erase that. GO NOW!"
I looked at Lucas my worries and fears and sorrow etched into my face. Then I ran for the door. He was right. I could feel it in my bones, the urge to run. It was the most magnificent sensation I'd ever felt and If I'd been raised here I suppose it was the closest thing to freedom I ever knew. I could hear Lucas start to fire behind me, feel the bullets flying so close to my skin but I never stopped running. Not when I heard Lucas hit the ground behind me, not even when a bullet grazed my arm. I stumbled and clamped my hand over the wound. It burned like the setting sun but I just kept running, pushing through the swinging doors at full force and I kept moving.
The corridor I entered was white, empty and pristine. I didn't let anything distract me. I kept running reading the doors as I passed. “Testing" "Trials" "Storage" "Imports". I skidded to a stop sliding several feet past the door. Recovering I pushed through hard as I could.
Clearly with soldiers storming the compound no one had time to man the import/export room. There was a huge square section of water that must have been ten or fifteen meters across either way. Without thinking, I jumped in.
The water was cold and it burned against my wound as it stained a path through the water red. The tunnel I was swimming through led down, down, down so far the light all but faded from my sight. Finally it leveled off. My lungs were burning, about to burst but I just kept pushing and pushing till the tunnel finally curved upward. I could see day light so far up. My chest started heaving, trying to grab at oxygen that wasn't available.
I fought to keep the sensation down as I pushed and pushed and pushed my way to the surface. My head was pounding and my chest aching when I finally breached the surface of the water. I pulled myself up onto a dock heaving over and over again trying to satisfy the demands for air that my lungs were making. My breathing started to normalize somewhat and I puked into the water bellow me.
My joints ached, my chest hurt, and my head throbbed but I managed to muster the strength to sit up and look at my surroundings. Whatever town, city, or country I was in I appeared to be in the waterfront warehouse district. Judging from the length of the tunnel I had to guess that the compound I was in was located underneath the giant warehouse to my left.
I could hardly breathe but I knew that I needed to get away from that building as quick as I could before either the invading soldiers or the native ones caught me. I didn't want to end up in either of their hands. I stood up quickly the fear of recapture pumping adrenaline into my blood, the aches and pains clearing away from my joints.
I stood unsteadily looking around myself. Then I ran, ran for all I was worth. I couldn't tell you how far I ran but when I finally stopped I was far away from the warehouse district, somewhere down town. I kept going at a slower pace. I got several looks from passersby. I must have looked very suspicious. A white, blond girl, soaked to the skin, bloood staining one arm, alone in a bad part of town. Nobody stopped me though which was a blessing.
As I was walking I caught my reflection in a shop window and I examined it. As far as I knew this was the first time I'd seen myself. Apart from looking dead beat tired I did look very out of place. My hair was blonde, disheveled and wet, clinging to my face like a bug on flypaper. There was blood drying on my arm and my clothes also didn't look normal. I was wearing a blue tank top that would breathe well in hot environments and a pair of pale green pants that would blend into most terrains well.
The pants were loose fitting enough so that I could be very flexible but tight enough that they wouldn't get in my way or chaff. Just like the shirt they breathed well and strapped to my left leg was what looked like a holster for the type of pistol that Lucas was carrying. Who was I? What the hell was going on?
A smell hit my nose, something warm and gooey. Something I'd eaten before. It was then that I realized I couldn't remember the last time I'd eaten (which wasn't saying much) but given the growling snarls my stomach was giving it must have been at least twelve hours. I needed food badly. I followed the aroma to a breakfast diner called "Grandma's Kitchen". I sat down at one of the booths and it wasn't long before a waitress dropped off a menu. I could tell from the pictures that the dish that I smelled from the streets was the "Waffle House Special" I vaguely remembered an elderly woman serving me a similar dish. We were happy then, content. I wondered how long ago that was.
The waitress came back five minutes later. It felt like an eternity. She set the Waffle House Special down in front of me and walked away. I smiled like a wolf about to devour its prey. It was two waffles stacked on top of each other. There was a mountain of whipped cream topped off with straw and blue berries and a little pitcher of syrup set next to it.
I dumped the syrup all over the dish and I took one bite... It was like heaven. All the flavors clashed violently in my mouth and my stomach demanded more. I deconstructed the entire dish in a matter of minutes. Scrapping the last vestiges of syrup and whipped cream off the plate.
I smiled contentedly, full and happy for just a moment before the waitress set something else down in front of me. It was a little black tray with a recipe on top of it. "Whenever you’re ready." She said sweetly. Money, this hadn't even occurred to me when I'd walked in. I understood the underlying principle of course. Several different objects assigned various values designed to equalize the worth of products for a more efficient exchange system.
The problem was I didn't have any. I'd just escaped from a secret facility buried under the warehouse district while it was under siege. Where was I supposed to get money from? I glanced towards the door. That was always an option. Just run, it was after all something I was good at. The owner would just think I was another free loading degenerate, no harm done.
I got up slowly walking to the door. Step by step I got closer to freedom. I'd escape a guarded facility, this couldn't be any harder. A man stepped in my way, just in front of the door. He was wearing an apron and a chef's hat. "Did you enjoy your meal?" He asked as though we were having a casual conversation. I was trapped; this was clearly either the owner or the chef, maybe even both. I had no way to get out without attracting far more attention than I needed. "Yes it was quiet good, the addition of the berries added to it." I said, playing along. I couldn't pay him, didn't have the means to pay him. I wouldn't even know where to get money.
"You reckon it was good enough, I don't know, to pay for?" He was getting to the point now. What would he do if I told him outright that I didn't have any money? Would he hall me down to the police station, they might give me back to that facility. I couldn't go back, not ever. "Yeah, I guess so. If I had the money I'm sure I would have paid with a generous tip."
He sighed looking annoyed; this was clearly not the first time this had happened. "Look girl, what's your name?" Name? Name! Why was I drawing a blank? I had to have a name. Everyone had a name. But I couldn't find mine amidst all the turmoil of my mind. I couldn't tell him that though. He'd drag me down to a psych center.
I glanced around and my eyes locked on a comic book some kid was reading at the counter. It was a Batman Comic, about some clown in white face paint. There was a girl on the page too that was dressed like the clown. Her name came to me and I sliced it up and presented it to the cook. "Quinn, My name's Quinn."
He continued his sentence. "Look Quinn," He could tell I was lying about my name. "You’re not the only one with problems. I got a wife, a mortgage and three kids to look after." How was I supposed to answer to that? In the grand scheme of things my one little meal wouldn't empty his pocket but I knew that if word got round that he let me go without paying then this place would become central to every man, woman, and child without the money to feed themselves and he would likely go out of business.
Still how could I respond to that? The guy was clearly nice but I didn't have the money to pay for the delicious meal he'd made for me. I supposed that I could just tell him that. "I'm sorry I tried to cheat you but I don't have the money to pay for my meal. I just... really needed something to eat." He sighed again, a bit more sympathetic this time. "Alright, if I let you leave will you promise to come back with the money you owe me?"
"No." The word just sort of slipped out and I wished to high heaven that I could take it back. It would have been so easy. Say that I'd come back with the money and disappear into the wind. But he seemed like a nice guy and I knew that what I told him was the truth. He couldn't trust me to come back. "No?" He asked dumbfounded. "What do you mean no? Are you saying you can't be trusted?"
Clearly the few people he'd taken pity on whether they'd come back with the money or not had always taken the option to leave. Hearing someone say they were untrustworthy, well, ever must have been a bit of a shock. "Is there a problem here Sal?" Asked a man turned from his seat. I could see a police badge hooked to the pocket of his jeans and the bulge in his jacket said that he was armed. "I'll let you know Jack."
Then his eyes turned back to me, searching for an answer. "If you seriously want the truth then, I don't know." What was I doing, I couldn't tell him about the lab or the facility and he'd just think I was insane if I pulled the amnesia card, just the basics then. "I woke up this morning in an alley, drenched to the skin, cold, tired and hungry and drawn to the aroma of the Waffle House Special." I couldn't let this go any further. He was a nice man and he didn't deserve the misfortune of meeting me but he had and I needed to end it now.
"I just want you to know that I'm really sorry and if I ever have the chance, I'll pay you back some day." With lightning quick reflexes I grabbed his arm, twisting it around his back slamming his head into the nearest table. "I'm sorry." I said though I knew there was no way he'd accept it. There was a click behind me. "Let him go and put your hands on your head!" It was the cop, Jack. He was clearly a friend of Sal's and probably a regular at the diner.
"I'm so sorry, I-I just wanted something to eat." I spun fast grabbed the end of the gun and pushed it skyward. It went off once into the ceiling showering plaster over us. I cracked it one way out of Jack's hand with a sickening crack that said I'd broken his trigger finger. I moved the gun behind me and hit Sal in the middle of the back with the butt. Then I kicked Jack hard in the stomach so that he fell back into the counter. The entire fight couldn't have taken more than a twenty seconds. I held up the gun clicking the safety off, my finger on the trigger, aimed with pinpoint accuracy at Jack's forehead. "Don't try to follow me or I swear I'll shoot you." I turned and ran shoving the gun into the holster on my leg. It didn't fit quite right, it wasn't the right make of firearm for the gun but it would do well enough. I ran and kept running and running till my legs threatened to give out. Then I collapsed in an alleyway tears streaming down my face.
What was I doing, stealing food, attacking chiefs, stealing police firearms? And where had I learned fight like that or gained that much strength, or learning to aim a gun. It hadn't occurred to me before that it might be abnormal for normal people to have not drowned getting out of that tunnel or not been able to go as far as I did afterwards. What had I done in my past? Who that had a good place in the world would know those moves or have that endurance or have a pistol strapped to their leg.
I thought about it, curled into a ball, my face pressed into my legs, tears running down my face till I fell asleep there in the middle of the day, in an alley way. No protection, no friends, no backup, no plan. I just slept.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Being honest here this started out as a Role Play but now I just want to write the story. If anyone has an suggestions I'd be glad to take them and I suppose if there was enough interest I'd think about turning it back into a role play.