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Through the Door star star star star emptystar


You approach the door and open it, finding it heavier than you expected. You step into a short, poorly lit hallway. On the other side is another door. The other two walls, as well as the floor and ceiling, are covered in vents. As you take this in, the door behind you slams shut, and you hear the squelch of an airtight seal. You try to force it back open, but to no avail. The opposite door is locked also. You hear a hissing noise, as the vents begin to billow a strange white gas. The smell is sickening, yet oddly enticing. As the plumes engulf your body, you drift into a deep, deep sleep...

 

You snap back to consciousness quickly, feeling quite out of sorts, and with no idea how much time has passed. You're lying on cold metal, and when you try to sit up, you find yourself immobile. Then, your eyes focus, and you see yourself in a mirror on the ceiling. The sight is unpleasant. Your clothes are gone, and you're lying on a steel contraption that resembles an operating table. Your wrists, ankles, chest, waist, and head are bound in what appeal to be bands of steel, although they fit you perfectly, as though the entire table had been made especially for you.

 

This seems unlikely, although your whole adventure has been made up of events you'd consider unlikely. You're also now female. Apparently a lot can happen in a drugged sleep.

 

You struggle against your bonds, which only serves to draw the attention of the two other people in the room, a frightening man in a lab coat and a younger man who you assume is some sort of assistant.

 

"Ah, good," the scientist says, "you're awake. We can begin. You have been given the honor of joining the ranks of the supersoldiers, an elite army of living weapons made from genetically manipulated humans."

 

"What?" you exclaim, "Who on Earth uses supersoldiers?"

 

"Oh, no one on EARTH." The scientist chuckles to himself, but you find none of this funny. You don't like the idea of being made into a "living weapon." Not that you have a choice, of course. "Lackey!"

 

Lackey mutters under his breath, "Charles. My name is Charles and you know that," then says in an audible tone, "Yes sir?"

 

The scientist either didn't hear Charles' first comment or doesn't care, and simply says, "Hand me serum number...



Written by Zodiac on 06 May 2007


Thirteen"
seven
twenty three

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