Radiance.
By
GhostNobody
Chapter 1:The Dust Settles.
The high pitched whine noise invaded the darkness of his dreams like an electric drill boring into his skull, as always it was followed by a voice that to him was the vocal equivalent of nails being dragged down a chalkboard and had the same effect of setting his teeth on edge.
"Rise and shine number seven its the start of a brand new day and we've got a whole series of new and exiting tests to get through, so up and at em!" the ever cheery and honey-sweet voice of Dr Rebecca Chalmers squealed through the speaker in the ceiling above his head.
Number Seven was the designation they had given him, he didn't know what his real name was, it had been stripped from him along with his memories which other than a few brief flashes of grey and yellow tunnels and people dressed in blue and gold with numbers written on their backs was an utterly blank slate, like an ink-filled void which every so often a bubble would rise and remind him that he wasn't always this way.
Slowly opening his eyes Number Seven looked about himself and his bleak little cell, other than a bed, a sink and a toilet the grey metal cell contained nothing of any merit, the only thing his captors allowed him to have in here other than the fore mentioned items was a single tennis ball which had once been bright and yellow and vibrant, but was now utterly bald and dull from the repeated bouncing against any and all surfaces during the many attempts to stave off the soul-crushing boredom and loneliness of the cell.
In the corner above the handless door a curved piece of black plastic sat behind which Number Seven knew there was a camera which they used to watch and observe him, some days he likes to bounce his ball off the camera in the vain hope that it would annoy the ever-loving shit out of the person who had drawn the short straw and was appointed his watcher for that day, why should he be the only one to suffer for this right?
Sitting up on the bed he stretched his aching muscles and felt his joints pop back into place as his muscles drew taught around them, after he was done he looked down his body at the many scars he had collected from both his time here and his vacant past, each time he ran his fingers over one of the raised puckered pink and white lines that crisscrossed him he felt like a memory was just below the surface reaching up with both hands for him to pull it from the inky blackness, but he could just never locate it in time to pull it free before it sank back unseen into the depths.
His skin was white with a hint of a golden tan though that was because of the UV baths they subjected him to rather than any sunbathing sessions, he was made to stand in a booth once a week for an hour while he was bombarded with the harsh blue light, he'd overheard the doctors joking about how his complexion was more sun-kissed than their own and that they were more likely to develop a problem from lack of vitamin D than him.
His chest was bare but his lower half was hidden behind a wrinkled pair of blue jogging style bottoms, they gave him a freshly laundered set each and every week, a vest, a jumper, tracksuit bottoms, seven sets of socks and boxers and even a pair of slippers, all in dark navy blue.
Lifting himself from the bed he further stretched and glared at the camera he knew the good doctors were staring at him through, he could practically feel her eyes on his bare body and it made his skin crawl, the very thought of the woman made bile rise in the pit of his stomach, he was sure if she hadn't been a doctor here she would have had a very promising career as either a molester or maybe even a dominatrix, she did seem to take a great deal of sick enjoyment out of the harm and pain she caused others, that's when an odd thought occurred to him, how in the name f hell did he know what a dominatrix was but he couldn't remember his fucking name?
Before he could really set to pondering the question in great detail the speaker crackled to life again, "Glad to see you're putting on a show for me there Number Seven its much appreciated, but if you could hurry up and get dressed we have work to do, unless you want me to flood the cell with gas and then come in there and dress you myself again of course? I did so enjoy the last time I got to test this new paralytic agent on you" Doctor Chalmers said with a high pitched laugh.
Number Seven ground his teeth together and turned towards the pile of clothes on the floor next to the head of his very uncomfortable bed, they didn't even allow him a single cupboard or drawers to stow his clothes in here, probably worried he was going to stash a Fatman inside it or something.
As he stripped off he could actually feel her leering at him through the camera again making his skin crawl as he shed both the tracksuit bottoms and his boxers before exchanging them for a new set and replacing the bottoms back on along with fresh socks his vest and the jumper, the last thing to go on were the thin slippers which did barely anything to protect his feet from the cold metal floor.
"Aww shame I was hoping to use the gas, you're always such a spoilsport Number Seven" Doctor Chalmers voice said in mock sadness, though with her it might actually not be mocking at all, fucking sadist.
As he turned back around to the door it hissed open and outside two hulking figures stood waiting, Number Seven knew the drill already so without a fight or resistance he stepped out into the white corridor glancing at both the Power Armored figures to his left and right, both were equipped with shock batons ready to bring him down without warning or notice if he so much as set a single toe out of the designated line he was to walk, it sometimes made him smile to himself that they considered him that much of a threat that they felt they needed to wear those colossal armoured suits just to be in the same space as him, especially as the fucking collar around his neck made sure he couldn't do anything anyway.
"Turn right," the figure on his left said his voice being modulated through the suit's speakers and it was so artificial in its tone that Number Seven couldn't even tell if it was a man or a woman wearing it, he did as he was told and turned to face the second person.