Activity

“You know that is an interesting accusation, which I would dispute, except for the fact I literally have a smoking gun in my hands.”

Scarlet glanced at the three Ministry soldiers, their sights lowered on him. Amazing really that these three had managed to find his sniper post. Maybe the Ministry did hire people with brains wired for strategy. Or maybe not.

“Unfortunately, for you of course, I’m not coming with you.” Scarlet waved. “Race you to the bottom.”

Before they could pull their triggers, he stepped backwards off the ledge of the building, slinging his bag over his head at the same time. One moment he was falling through the air at an alarming rate, the next he was catching himself on the window garden ledge and flinging himself through the window below.

“Ha!” he yelled triumphantly. Picking himself up off the carpet he waved to the startled elderly lady sitting in her chair before dashing out her door. He could hear yelling from upstairs. They made it so easy. He grabbed the railing of the stairs, swinging over and dropping to the next floor, repeating this pattern until he was on the ground floor. Pushing his way through the door, he made a dash for the alleyways.

Something slammed into his stomach and he was halted, crashing into the wall before sinking to the pavement. They were better than he was expecting. Saints, that had hurt. He tried to push himself up but a boot slammed into the tender area where he had been hit before. The last thing he remembered was a needle threading its way into his arm.

~~~

Oh boy, a cage. Not only that but he had a headache that would put the roaring Mestha River to shame. Also his gun was gone, not to mention a few other possessions. Like his goggles…and his medication…and the block of cheese he had stashed in his jacket pocket for lunch. The jacket was gone as well. But, back to the cage, which despite everything else, was the absolute worse. Cages meant the Ministry had succeeded in snagging him. They probably had already done a blood test and who knows what type of hands he would fall into once the results came back with impossibly high amounts of radiation. Everything was going just fine.

Scarlet forced himself not to bang his already aching head against the bars in utter frustration. “You know, you could have been anything in the world but you chose rebel. Right now being a math tutor is sounding so much more appealing. Shouldn’t have dropped out of university,” he said to himself, banging a foot against the door. “Saints,” he cursed, the action causing him more pain than relief. “I’m going crazy, talking to myself. Who am I kidding? I hate teaching math.”

~~~~~~~

“Yes, I did snap his neck. Am I supposed to apologize or…I thought this was a good thing.”

Matz Thayer trailed off, fingering a worn copy of Faust he had found on the bookshelf. Did he want this or perhaps that very enticing book by Robespierre. A hard decision, and perhaps he would have time for both. His shoulders slumped. Or neither. That was always an option. It was the story of the girl who was told to pick one doll when fleeing her home, but could pick none as her favorite so she left all. This wouldn’t be his last trip to M.O.T.H.E.R.’s doctors.

“Of course but…” the voice behind him trailed off.

“Was this life of his valuable?” he asked with a sigh, not bothering to turn around. “Did I make a mistake? If so I must learn from it, for that is the way to successes. It is a way of life…”

He trailed off, wincing slightly as a needle was injected into him. More testing. He heaved a sigh, this was a pain.

~~~

A cage, that was new. It was a reflection of the cage of the mind, barring intellectual thoughts and the freeing of the mind. How one could never escape some things ingrained into them. Matz scooted back. This was comfortable, though boring without a book. Perhaps he would take this time to reflect on the purpose in humanity’s role in the day to day struggle.

He suddenly became aware of voices. Particularly ones about escape. Didn’t they know it was impossible to escape from the M.O.T.H.E.R.’s facilities? Oh well, perhaps he should enlighten them. He leaned forward, hair falling into his face as he peeked through the bars.