Outsiders

A group of gentically modified misfits (all with great hair) band together to defeat a scared, lovesick man intent on killing them, bring down a company designing human babies and find out their past all from within several nuclear bomb bunkers which they're not allowed to leave.

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6. Hopsital Honey

My mouth is open so wide with shock that people on the Surface can probably see what I had for breakfast. The name on the top of the file.... No, it has to be wrong. Luke Tyler Brace stands out like a red pimple on the file. That's my birth name. The file falls onto the desk in shock. My hands, even my prosthetic, are shaking like I've just chugged several galleons of coffee. This can't be right. There's absolutely no way that can be right. I'm my parents children, not some sort of freakish test tube kid. No, that's not me. No way. My breathing increases to the point were I can't breathe at all, my chest on fire. No, no, no. They've got this wrong. Somehow my hands sift through the files and I fish out four more subject files. Eliza Alison Brace, Taylor Elizabeth Brace, Charlotte Louise Raven and Liam Harry Raven. I'm guessing they were all born/made in pairs then. So what happened to mine? No, not mine. I'm not one of these, these.. freaks.

"Who's there?"

A voice rips through the silence and I jerk up like a puppet. Oh no.

"Come out where I can see you. I'm warning you, I am armed!"

Fuck. My mind whirling with hundred different thoughts, I shove all the Yoso files into my backpack and crouch under the desk, my heart going a million miles an hour in my chest. The last time the situation got like this I lost an arm. A cool wind rustles my hair, some papers flying from the table. Focus, Sky, focus. My mind focuses in on my breathing, counting the seconds between each breath until my panic subsides. Damn my proneness to panic attacks. They're so fucking horrible I can't even explain it.

"Come out now and we can talk this out!" The voice calls out again. Male, I think. Not much that older than me by the sound of it. I squeeze my left hand together and off goes the LED light. In its place, a large metal claw comes sliding out of the top of my wrist like a massive hook blade, curving way from my arm. Silencing my breathing yet again, I focus my hearing on the mans footsteps getting slowly closer to me. I flick my hood up and get into a crouching position, ready to jump the guy. Thank God for my Zone 3 upbringing. The guys feet creep slowly into my view. Jesus this guy has terrible fashion taste.

"Where are you?"

I jerk my hand out and swipe his feet from under him. He falls to the floor with a yelp and I bolt up and leg it out of the lab.

"Hey, come back!"

I keep running, my head down. He can't catch me. Not now, not like this. It would be the Surface for sure this time. I pelt through the corridors and into the reception area I passed through earlier. Except this time it isn't deserted. What looks like half a dozen security guards are potted around the place, all with ray guns. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck. The big oafs start running at me, drawing their weapons. Somehow I manage to dart around them, stab a few of them for good measure, jump over the receptionists desk and through the door behind it. Footsteps follow close behind me and I run even faster, ignoring my burning chest. God I am not built for running. The hallway leads me to a flight of metal stairs and I sprint up them, my boots clunking against the metal. So much for secrecy. I get about halfway up before I hear my chasers footsteps hitting the metal. Gulping for air, I keep running until I reach the top floor. Pushing my way through a set of double doors, I bolt through yet another lab, only this time this ones full of people. Men and women in white coats stand in shock as I barge through the lab, my assailants getting closer by the second. Papers fly everywhere as I run and run. Daring to look back for just a second, I crash into something hard. Very hard. Looking in front of me, I groan.

 

I've hit a wall.

 

Turning to face my chasers, I gulp for air and look around frantically. There has to be a way out. There just has to be. The guards are getting closer and closer. Looking to my left, I smile widely. A window! But it has to be a fifty foot drop from here. There's no way I can make that unscathed. Absolutely no fucking way. My eyes snap back to ever closer guards. Maybe that's just the price I'll have to pay. Taking a deep breath, I run full pelt at the window. I cover my face with my hands as I crash sideways into the window. So long fuckers. Air rushes past me as I fall, the window fading above me. Curling my body up into a ball, I hit the ground with a loud thump. Shattered glass comes down around me, some of the pieces wedging themselves into my skin. I scream out in pain, but not from the glass. Pain is rushing through my leg like a bitch, so painful tears forming in my eyes. Looking down, I have to bite my lip so hard to bleeds to stop myself from screaming. Blood is gushing freely from my lower left leg, the bone sticking out like a massive ass pimple. Shit shit shit.

 

I glance back up at the window and see what looks like the whole lab staring back down at me in horror. I don't even have to see it to know the guards are already on their way down here right now. I need to go, now. Somehow I pull myself up using the wall for support and try to walk. Pain shoots through my leg with such force I nearly scream again. I've got to do this. I need to get out of here or I'm screwed. Completely and utterly screwed. I try to walk again and grimace as the pain takes over my leg. Somehow I keep moving, slowly but surely. Carreua fades into darkness behind me as I keep hobbling down the alleyways. I don't know how far I get before I slump against a wall, breathing heavily. If they find me I'm dead. Stretching my leg put in front of me, my vision blurring. God knows how long I can keep consciousness. My mind starts whirling again, this time with pain added to the mix. I can't make sense of any of this. If the files are right, why the hell have I never been told? Who really are the people I call my parents? Who actually am I? My eyelids droop and my breathing gets heavy. No, I need to stay awake. The darkness overcomes me with annoying ease and my eyes close.

*******************

Light is painful. My eyes to flutter open, but the sharp light blinds me. Ah, light, can you not? Groaning, I force my eyes open and blink rapidly, nearly choking on my dead throat. The ceiling above me is plain white, the lights sterile. Where the hell am I? Somehow I manage to push myself up in the comfy bed and look around. Vases of what look like flowers- most of them roses, which I recongise since they're Caras favourite- are scattered around the room, perched on ornate glass table things. A gold, curved sofa is pushed up against the furthest metallic wall, covered in purple cushions. A masive looking window covered with floral printed red curtains takes up the whole of the right wall. The strong smell of incense in the room is overpowering.  On the dresser next to my bed sits a stand of what look like small, colourless cakes. My stomach growls with hunger. What harm can it do? I take the smallest cake thing and niddle at the side. It tastes like honey, the really sweet, really expensive stuff I can only get at Christmas. I bolt the rest and take in my surroundings. Where the fuck am I? Swinging my legs out of the bed, my bare feet retract in shock from the cold wood floor. Couldn't they have made skipped a couple of cushions and gotten a carpet instead? I try to stand but fall back on to the bed in agony. Damn my leg. I'm guessing my fall was louder than I thought as not a moment later, a kinda scary nurse rushes in. Massive false lashes flutter like spiders over her eyes, her lips painted a ugly bright green. The uniform is so tight and low cut her boobs are pratically spilling out. I have no issue with girls showing off their boobs (it's not our fault some people see them as this massively sexualized thing that we need to cover) but seriously, the girls about one false move away from a nip slip.

"Miss, please sit down. Your leg needs time to recover from the first bout of surgery," she says in her sharply clipped Zone 1 voice, pushing me down and handing me a glass of water. I down the whole thing and pass it back to her.

"Where am I?"

"DECOM, miss. We treat everyone deserving of our treatment, be it a hangover or a serious injury like yours."

"What do you mean, 'everyone deserving'?"

"We treat only those from Zone 1 and occansionally those from Zone 2, if they can afford our prices. Can't have any of those dirty flea bags from Zone 3 soiling up our lovely clean hospital can we?" The redhead laughs, pulling open the curtains. I have to squinted to avoid being blinded again.

"How did I get here?" I ask, turning my attention back to the nurse.

"We do nightly patrols around the back areas of Zone 1. You'd be surprised at how many people we find passed out or injuried behind the clubs. Anyway, one of our patrols found you passed out behind the Enzymion and brought here for medical attention. We operated straight away and healed the bone. You're scheduled in for the surgery that will fix your skin and erase any skins later today. However, if you need to use the toilet or something like that, there is a pair of crutches in the corner to help you get there without too much pain."

"Then why can't I walk yet if you've healed the bone or whatever?"

"Your body needs time to recover from the laser surgery and repair itself. We're good at what we do, but we can't create DNA. Change it, sure, but not create it," she hums, turning to face me with a confused look on her face, "Where are you from?"

"What do you mean?" If she realises I'm actually from Zone 3...

"You don't sound, act or even look like you're from around here," the nurse muses, her brows furrowing. My left hand squeezes and my blade comes slithering out. Better safe than sorry right? The redhead takes a few steps towards me, her face still squeezing into thinking mood.

"Nurse!" A burnette head pops in through the doorway, "You're needed in theatre straight away."

The nurse turns to the voice with a smile and nods. She throws me one last, omnious glance before strutting out of the room. Christ on a bike, that was close. I really don't want to think about what would happen if she found out I'm from Zone 3.

 

Leaning over to the otherside of the bed, I grab my stuff and pull off my hospital gowny thing. Once I'm back in my familiar, grease stained dress, I yank on my hoodie and sling my backpack over my shoudler. Now for the hard part. Using the honey cake table as support, I push myself up and take a step forwards. My leg hurts like a bitch and I have to bite my lip to keep from screaming. Looking down at the ugly red mark just below my kneecap, I take another step forwards, this one less painful than the last. Maybe there's something in this goddamn hospital thing that would make this whole walking thing a little less painful. Glancing around the room, my eyes settle on a pair of shiny metal crutches with DECOM written on the side. Crutches! Hobbling over to them, I slip my arms through the arm holey things and swing them infront of me, putting all my weight on these spindly metal sticks as I move forwards. Yay, less pain! I walk/hobble/swing like Tarzan my way through DECOM with suprising ease- I guess they're used to people leaving in a hurry looking a less- and out into the streets of Zone 3. I keep my head down and move as fast as I can through the back streets. After last night, God knows whose out to get me. Carreuas going to be massively pissed that I managed to get into the building, but when they find out I stole the files... If they find me, I'm a dead girl. To top it all off, I didn't even manage to get the goddamn transmitter. I'll have to ask Josh to send someone else in. But firstly, why the hell is my birth name on Carreua files dating back to when I was born? What was Project Yoso? Who are the others and where are they now? Most importantly though- Who am I?

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