Chapter Text
Blood stained your hands. You sigh rubbing them onto your worn down pants. There was a slight limp in your leg as you walked past the nurse. She looks up and looks back down at her documents. She never did give a shit. All liars. All of them.
Clenching your jaw, your determination only growing to get back to your shitty room. It was truly the only place you had in this facility of death. The stench of it stunk. It was a smell you could never fully get rid of. Like it sank into your bones and settled there.
The sleeproom was the only place were violence wasn’t approved or encouraged by the scientists. Other Reagants were everywhere. Some were sleeping, some eating in the cafeteria and some hiding underneath the staircase. Freaking out about going back in and trying to do anything to avoid the trials. Alas that wouldn’t work. You found that out the first day you woke up in that old creaky mattress. There was a certain quietness in the sleeproom you couldn’t remember anywhere else back in the real world. It sounded like dread. Like cattle quietly hunched together waiting to be slaughtered.
Although there were connections between the said cattle. Some Reagants would talk quietly in corners or they would play a game of chest. Murkoff always encouraged healthy mental activity. Or so the bastards claimed while throwing you into the jaws of death.
“Kid.”
You looked to your right. After managing climbing up the stairs with your injured legs you feel dizzy with fatigue. Dorris Ritter was waiting for you outside your room. Her arms were crossed and she looked relatively relaxed compared to her usual tense self. You appreciated her tools but if you heard ‘stay cool kid’ once more you might rip out your ESOP.
The ESOP was the device on your chest which was drilled into your ribcage. It’s impossible to take off. Even if you could, a scientist would notice and electrocute you through a panel. Like some misbehaving dog.
“Yeah.” You replied trying to focus on staying awake.
Dorris tsked. “You need to stay awake or you’ll get jumped.”
“Nobody is gonna jump me outside of the trials.” It was true. Nobody was excited to return back. The sleep room wasn’t a place you took the violence with you. You left it inside the trials along with your dignity and hope.
“Right. Is there a reason you’re outside my room or are you planning on keeping me company.” You spoke dryly.
“If something is gonna get you jumped it’s that damn attitude of yours.” She shook her head. “I need your stun rig. I have new update for it but it’ll take a day.”
Alerted you feel yourself becoming more awake. “Why? You never need it for that long.”
“Yeah I know. But this would expand the ratio of the blast. I figured you’d be interested.”
You were. A sudden jolt of anxiety leapt through your chest. “Wait. I need it for the trials tomorrow. It’s one of Franco’s. You know stun is my best chance against him.”
Dorris nodded. “I’m aware. But the next trial might be one of Coyle’s and you need your stun against him or you’ll be a fried corpse full of holes.”
The thought of being weaponless against Coyle’s cattle prod has you clenching your teeth. Franco wasn’t that hard. You could hear him from miles away with his frantic breathing. Fine.
“Alright. But don’t take too long.”
She raised her eyebrow. “And lose my favourite customer. Never. The other reagants are a bunch of newbies, always moaning and crying.”
You nodded in thanks and took out your rig handing it to her. “See you kid.” With that she was gone, taking your only defensive tool with her.
Slamming your door behind you as you entered the only sort of home you have. It was simple. A bed. A sink. And a few desks. With big windows of course, so that the freaky scientists could watch you jerk off. Whatever. You felt yourself drifting off as soon as you hit your mattress.
-
The sun hit your eyelids as you slowly woke up with a smile on your face. Wait. Wrong reality. You slowly blinked the dream away. There was a soldier standing outside your door. A baton was tapping on your window. Fuck. You must have slept right up to your trial.
Reagants used to be able to choose which trials they got every day. As long as they got enough A’s. Otherwise there would be consequences. The consequences being forcibly thrown into trials or in some cases they would disappear. Everybody knew what that meant. They got chosen as victims in the trials of other Reagants. Making them an example to everybody.
You could however choose if you entered a trial alone or with your fellow Reagants. A small gracious favour murkoff granted it’s little test rats.
“The shuttle leaves in 5 minutes.” The soldier ordered in front of your window. You lazily blinked at him. The urge to strangle him grew. Leaping out of bed you threw on some basic less bloody pants.
At least your leg felt better. You moved it gently. Much more walkable. You gaze into the mirror by your sink. Presentable. The trial you did yesterday wasn’t to bloody so that’s something at the very least. You check the cloth straps you tied around your chest. Still tight somehow. It made it hard to breath especially with all the extensive movement. But it was necessary. You didn’t just bind to be safer from sexual assault. It just felt right.
Sigh.
You worked your way downstairs. The sleeproom was full of Reagants anxiously waiting by the terminal. The smell of anxious mammals filling the air. You frowned and took your place at the computer. Soldiers were standing at the sides of the airlocks. This was a recent development which had more or less to do with an escape attempt made by a group of Reagants.
All were caught. All dead. You would hear rumours of the trials of other Reagants, were they described horrible details of how the ex-Reagants, now victims were murdered. One was drowned in blood, the other burnt to death. You didn’t understand why people would try to escape. It was hopeless. Otherwise you would have heard it before. The only way to see the real world and the sun was in your dreams.
“You. Step into the shuttle.” The same soldier as earlier urged on.
Like an obedient little rat you do as he says. God forbid you spoke out of turn against one of them. The shuttle stunk extra ripe today. It smelled like rot. Yuck. You dropped yourself into a chair. The bindings shutting over your arms.
Right. Now time to hallucinate. The gas filled the shuttle. The hallucinations differed every time. Every Reagants had their own story of what they’d witness. Although it was over quickly. You get used to it so quickly that it slips your mind after the horrors you witness in the trial.
You breath in and out. Downtown. This wasn’t the first time you’ve been here. Familiarity with the map got your chance of survival looking better. Especially since you didn’t have your rig. Shit. You completely forgot about that. Time to hoard bricks like no other.
The shuttle arrives. You step through the airlocks.
“Let’s get to work.” You grumble.
This wasn’t your first rodeo. Kidnap the mistress wasn’t hard. All you had to do was match the frequencies. After finding the little radio boxes of course. Most of them were in the sewers. You started running.
It was quiet. Which meant no grunts had been released yet. Franco wouldn’t be a problem until later. You ran down the stairs into the sewers. The air was thick with moisture and was a little claustrophobic in a way. The filthy water slushed underneath your feet. They wouldn’t use real shit right?
It wouldn’t be above murkoff unfortunately. You leaped right, slowly opening the metal door. No sounds. Except…. Ah! A radio. Perfect. You leaped onto the device, tuning it accordingly. This could go quite smoothly. You twist the buttons. There. That’s one down.
Then the fucking alarms goes off above ground. You freeze and try to listen to any potential sounds. There’s nothing. Which meant you had no idea who was roaming the area with you.
‘I just have to be more quiet.’ You think to yourself.
You find the other radios with ease. Each one giving you a hint over which over sexualised mannequin you had to take with you. Grunts were released into the area but they didn’t have night vision. The big lump with the weapon could see fuck all. You slowly make your way past him. The stairs were right there. He doesn’t notice you.
The mannequin in your arms, you leap up the stairs. Fucking hell. It was heavier than it looked. It had perky breasts and a mustache? Huh. Well there’s somebody for everybody you guess. You knew prime assets would get up to all kinds of filth with these dolls. That was their only comfort to release sexual frustration onto. You’d notice it by how some mannequins had bite marks on suspicious body parts. God forbid the kind of shit you’d find in Coyles trials. Burn marks on genitals and all.
You step up onto the ground adjusting to the light. You freeze. Why was it so quiet above ground? You realise you hadn’t seen Franco in the sewers which meant he had to be skulking around this area. Somewhere.
Holding the mannequin tightly to your chest. You look around to see if you saw anything moving behind the cars of for shadows moving in the buildings.
Nothing. Not a sound or a shadow. Your body feels tight at the tense atmosphere. You still needed to complete your objective AND escape. That’s one of the risks of these trials. Some Reagants get confident and they make mistakes. Mistakes get you shot in the dick.
You decide to keep going. Otherwise they’ll send the Jaeger up to make you move faster.
The building was right there! You lock the door behind you and throw the mannequin into the car. You notice the other mannequins in the car. One being the driver. How the fuck would you even explain this in the real world? If you ever managed to get out that was. You had 59 rebirth tokens. That was more than Dorris ever had before she turned away from Rebirthing completely.
She still wouldn’t give you the entire story. But every time you brought up Rebirth she’d get this haunted and sad look in her eyes. As if she’s given up. Then she’d warn you to watch your back like she always does. You could tell she doesn’t believe in the Rebirth system. Her doubt was infectious but what other choice do you have? There was no way you’d stay there like her. You had to get out.
With some new found determination you slam your hand down onto the button. Sirens go off. You pick up the bricks you gathered earlier. Time to get the fuck out.
Slowly opening the door with a creak, you step outside. You decide to make a run for it.
BANG. Fuck. You dive behind a car. The shuttle was so close. All you had to do was hit the button and survive long enough to escape.
“Look what the fuckin’ cat dragged in!”
You almost roll your eyes. This fucking prick. “You missed. Maybe it’s time to put down the gun and pick up some glasses.” You bite back.
“Who says that wasn’t a fuckin’ warning shot. I’ve got manners as well!”
You tighten your hand on the car as you try to pin down his location. A hard thing to do considering he might blast your skull right open. “Is that what they call manners these days? I’d hate to see you on a first date.”
BANG. Another shot fired blasting the mirror on the other side of the car.
“Fuck you, you sniveling little rat. I’ll blast a fuckin’ hole where your brain is supposed to be.”
He was behind the car. Probably around 10 feet away. The shuttle was on your left, 15 feet away. You grit your teeth. How the hell were you gonna get away from without getting shot at. And now that you’ve riled him up, those chances were only rising.
“You have to find it first. And considering your last shot it might be hard for you!”
You hear him growl and stomping closer. He knew exactly were you were. Your heart was thumping wildly in your chest. How the fuck do you get to the damn shuttle with Franco on your dick. At least it wasn’t Coyle. He’d stick that cattle prod so far they wouldn’t be able to retrieve it.
Franco was moving closer. You could hear it by his frantic breathing and rotten curses that flew out of his mouth. He was moving to your right! This was good. This meant you could run towards the shuttle, press the button and hopefully survive. You had three bricks with you. Time to use them.
“Big talk for a fuckin’ vermin hiding behind a car. Are you scared?” Franco sneers. You hear him spit on the ground.
You could throw one of the bricks at him. But it had to a good shot. Preferably in the face. Daze him and then run for your life.
“Not scared Franco.” Using his name like it’s no big deal. “Just pacing myself with this hot weather.”
The shovelling feet on the other side of the car stop. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about.”
You frown. Caught of guard. Is this guy brain dead?
“What? You mean about the weather?”
You hear him putting his weight into a step. Then stopping. “Hot? It’s cold as shit here. Are you sure I didn’t hit you, you fuckin’ idiot.”
Cold? You frown, caught off guard. While it wasn’t hot enough for you to sweat. It definitely wasn’t cold either. You knew he always wore his dirty white suit. Which meant he had plenty of protection if it was chilly. He must be delusional somehow. All of them were.
Whatever.
“Oh, my bad.” You call out, your voice dripping with automatic sarcasm as you quietly drop your gaze to his dirty boots under the car. “I forgot you were wearing three layers of cheap polyester. Maybe you could ask for a jacket next time?”
That did it. Franco lets out a harsh, offended bark from the other side. “Cheap?! This is tailored, you piece of fuckin’ shit. You wouldn’t know quality if it were standing right in front of your fuckin’ face.”
You roll your eyes, completely numb to his sudden outrage. You don’t even realise how ridiculous it is that you’re arguing fashion with a mass murderer. You just need him to keep talking.
There.
Right next to your left foot, a heavy jagged piece of broken brick is half buried in the dirt. You pull it out. It’s solid, which means it will do the job well.
You grip the rough edges, shifting your weight onto the balls of your feet. Preparing yourself for the frantic run.
“Oh, I can see quality just fine, Franco.” You call out, standing up fully from behind the car. “I just think it looks better with this!”
Before he can even process the words or your sudden standing presence, you launch the brick with everything you’ve got in you.
CRACK.
The brick connects directly into the center of Franco’s face. He lets out a pathetic, high-pitched screech, stumbling backward as his hands fly up to clutch his bleeding nose. His sawed-off shotgun falls to the ground.
You don’t waste a single millisecond to admire your handiwork.
Turning on your heel, you bolt. You boots made loud contact with the concrete floor in a desperate, adrenaline-fueled sprint toward the shuttle doors. You make it and slam your hand down on the button. Alerted, you turn around and watch for any kind of movement.
Franco is still lying on the ground. His choked screams of pure fury echo across the trial. He slowly gets up, making you freeze.
Five seconds. Just 5 more seconds.
Franco’s on his feet, one hand holding his face, the other reaching for his shotgun. The doors open. You turn around and dive into one of the airlocks. It closes behind you.
You practically fall into the shuttle, chest heaving and hands shaking with adrenaline. Fucking hell.
The shuttle ride back is a blur of focusing on catching your breath and the mechanical hum of Murkoff’s transit system. By the time the airlocks open to let you back into the facility, the adrenaline has faded, leaving your legs aching and your mind completely drained.
You stumble your way upstairs, just like yesterday. This time you head toward the cafeteria, your stomach growling. You need something to keep going. Reagants who have also gotten back stare at you with a frown. You must be quite a sight.
You look towards your left. Dorris looks up from her table, her sharp eyes taking in your wild appearance and lingering manic look in your faces. She purses her lips and frowns.
“What the fuck happened to you out there?” She asks, her raspy voice a mix of amusement and genuine curiosity. “You look like you got fucked by a meat grinder.”
You don’t even have the energy to explain. You just raise a trembling hand, waving her off with an exhausted sigh, as you sit at the table next to her.
“Don’t even ask.” You mutter, rubbing your temples. “I don’t even know.”
Dorris raises an amused eyebrow and turns around, focusing back on whatever she’s doing.
Because honestly? You didn’t even know what the fuck just happened yourself.