ooc: dream
He walked into an empty room filled with various medical or possibly scientific equipment. In the center there was a glass case, and as he got closer, he saw a little girl inside. She looked paralyzed, not even her eyes blinking.
"You need a name, don't you?" He heard a voice in his head, and he climbed up onto a platform to get a better look at her. She made him feel defensive, unsettled.
He could see his reflection in the glass, and he looked like a young child, his one gold eye shining back at him. "I don't need anything from you." He growled back, annoyance in his voice. "I'm not like him."
"The other you, he-" He cut her off, slamming a fist into the glass.
"Shut up!" His fist broke through the glass, but there was no blood, and the girl that was once lying there was gone.
He looked down, and there was a gun in his hand. A siren was going off, and he quickly ran out of the room into a hallway. There were other children, wearing similar outfits running down the hall with him. He wasn't sure what was going on, but he knew he had to keep running. Eventually the hallway got dimmer, and he reached a blood soaked area of the hallway.
"Why?" He heard a whimper coming from down the hall. "Why did this have to happen?" He lifted his gun, scanning the area.
He kept walking down the hallway, blood getting on his shoes and pants. He then saw a boy sitting on his knees, looking at the dead bodies around him. He looked almost exactly himself, but he had a silver eye showing.
"You didn't want to die." He told the boy, noticing he also had a gun.
He raised his own gun, cautious of the other child, who now had tears in his eyes. "Are you going to pull the trigger and stay alive?"
The boy was skittish, and it didn’t help they were both pointing their guns at each other. “I, I don’t know. I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die like this!” The other boy sounded so desperate.
He lowered his own gun down. “Pull the trigger, then.”
The boy closed his eyes, tears going down his face. He yelled, firing his gun in anguish at him. He fell to the ground, but there was no pain. He closed his eyes, waiting to die, but nothing happened.
When he opened his eyes, he was in a bed. He got up, fully dressed with jacket on and everything. Under the bed he pulled two knives out, not even wondering why they were there. The room he was in looked like it was from an abandoned house. The house looked like it was going to fall apart anytime, but that didn’t matter to him. As he was leaving the house, there was a mirror, and he saw his reflection. He was no longer a child, but he was still young.
“You’ll thank me later.” He muttered to himself.
He walked down the alley, the knives still in his hands. At the end of the alley was a small, blond boy. He looked frail and way too young to be out at night, but he still kept his guard up.
“Does he know you do these things?” For a young child, his voice was way too jaded. “I can bring him here; what would he think of this?” The boy stepped closer. “I don’t think he would like this.”
He dropped his knives, snarling. “Leave him out of this.” He showed the boy his knives. “This is between us.”
The boy shook his head. “I’m not afraid to die, it is why I was made.”
He laughed. “Maybe if he thought like that, we wouldn’t be in this mess, but what a shitty life that would be.” He dropped his knives, walking away from the blond boy.
“You are a strange creation.” He turned his head to respond to the other boy, but he was gone.
When he looked forward, he saw the night sky. Well, he thought it was the night sky. He soon realized he was drifting in space. His body felt light headed, weaker than before. He saw another body floating near him, reaching a hand out. He reached out his, but he couldn’t grasp the other hand.
He realized the other man was an older version of the boy he saw with the silver eye. His face was bloody, and he looked rather weak too.
“This is, I don’t think I can make it.” His voice was weak.
“We’ll survive, they’ll come for us. Shut up.” He growled, finally grasping the other man’s hand firmly.
“I don’t want to live like this, be like this.” It was too late, and the other man pulled his hand away from his grasp. “Forgive me for my weaknesses.”
“This isn’t how it’s supposed to be!” He tried again to grasp the other man’s hand, but it was like his hand was just some sort of projection, a figment of his imagination. “We’re alive, live!” He yelled again, but now the hand was gone. The fatigue soon set in, forcing him to close his eyes.
“Stay alive for me.”