Author Note: More Original Stuff! A continuation of this story: http://www.comicvine.com/forums/fan-fic/8/a-puppet-masters-lament/683791/#
On an island in the south, pacific a people are locked up for the abilities they were born with; some by choice others for no reason other than the fear of others. They are walled in, watched for their own protection. The large harbor and a massive ocean seemed a lifetime away. The roads were dirt; many lived in crude huts made from whatever could be spared.
“Can we get out of this place, mommy?” A little boy asked his mother. It was his time for the shots. He hated them. They made him sleepy and it made him feel weak. Something about it wasn’t right, but the soldiers patrolling the island never cared and the doctors seemed unconcerned.
“No.” She said.
They room they were in was full. A long ling behind them had stopped moving. They were headed for a large white tent. Ahead of them were coughing and irritated people. “If we don’t come in for the shot we get collared you understand?” She said in a strict voice.
The boy’s face sagged and he hung his head. He understood perfectly well. Just the other day somebody his age was collard. He didn’t know how it worked but when used it meant being taken away to the northern half of the island were you didn’t come back from. “Yes.”
Soldiers in blue helmets and dark uniforms patrolled the area. Reporting and doing a daily count of inhabitance. They walked with scorn in their being, hiding contempt with promises of protection. “I hate this place, man. These freaks. They look like us, they might even bleed like we do, but they ain’t human.”
“Heard about the last shipment?” He asked his comrade. “It was dry docked at the pier fifty two. Thirty dead. The only survivor is this teenaged powered. She had a “headache”I heard. One of those tele— whatevers.”
The other said nothing as they walked passed a hut made from sheet metal and rotten wood. “Hold up a second.” He stopped at the huts entrance and armed himself with the automatic rifle slung over his shoulder. The soldier kicked the door open and readied his rifle.
His partner didn’t stop him. He watched and waited. He heard shouting on the inside, then a loud crack followed by a blood curdling shriek. Pleading followed and then silenced by a flash of light and a loud rapid popping noise. “All clear.” His partner said as he strode out of the hut.
“Was that necessary?” He asked. He often asked that question. Did they have to do this? He thought to himself. This was the fourth house his partner has raided. Yet the soldier never filed a report, never confronted his partner or even attempted to stop him.
“Who cares? They were only powered.” The other soldier said, slinging his automatic rifle over his shoulder.
The tent was full and the cots stood vacated. Under them was a dirt floor. People coughed a patience dimmed. “We’ve been standing here for six hours and we still haven’t seen a doctor!” She yelled, holding her son in one arm.
A group of officials wearing white coats sat in front of her behind a long table. “Ma’am you’re papers indicate your child’s conditionrequires it to be treated with a base one dampening solution.” The official pulled out a handheld device and grabbed the boy’s hand. The device pricked his thumb and ringed.
“The gene scan is picking up a variation in his blood.” The official said, gesturing to a group of blue helmeted soldiers pushing their way through the line. “They will take him to the northern R&D facility for a more precise screening.”
“Then what? He comes back not remembering his name? Or not at all?” The mother snapped glaring at the official.
“I have heard the rumors ma’am,” The official replied in a calm voice. “but I assure you that he will be brought back to your loving care in a few hours.”
She felt a cold hand on her shoulder and a chill went down her spine. “Ma’am.” A gruff voice said behind her.
Outside the walls that surround the encampments, the ever watching towers and the patrolling guards is the ocean. Cargo ships from countries distant from here are dry docked on the island and processed. Passengers tired and hungry walk through the processing centers in large lines from the pier to several cramped four story buildings. A band would play as new arrivals came in and other recent arrivals waved and cheered the newcomers along.
The sun baked the new arrivals and hope for the future was in sight. Passed the processing building was a large court yard were they would be assigned their sector of residency. With most of them having nothing back home and others having no choice this was a fresh start. “Hey I heard they have these huge lofts and job for everyone.”
“We’ve all seen the commercials.” Someone said.
“Yeah but this isn’t just on TV anymore. It’s real. It’s right in front of us.”
“I’ll just be glade when this is all done. I’ve got family here. A little boy and my wife. I haven’t heard from them for weeks.”
“Just think this is a fresh start for us all. No more hiding.”
“Yes. No more hiding.”
At the northern R&D facility scientists worked on everything from medicinal and synthetic means to dampen the abilities of powered humans. They had free reign in every area of the lives of the islands inhabitants. Where else could they go? This island was founded on the idea that for the protection of both normal humans and powered humans that the powered be given a home land. The United Nations makes sure the researchers have all the money and equipment they need, while NATO provides security.
The little boy who had been taken to the northern half of the island was alone in a dark room. They put him to sleep with a needle when they took him from the tent. He was scared. When people came here they never came back or weren’t the same again. He was naked and cold, he felt like he was lying on a large piece of metal and his body hurt. “Room is clear. Subject is prepped for operation.” He heard over the loud speaker.
The lights flashed on and he was blinded. He couldn’t move his body but he could move his head. He looked down, white tubes were coming from the ceiling and imbedded between his ribs. The same tubes went through his arms and seemed to pump a dark red liquid inside him. “Damn the kid is awake!” He heard from somewhere but couldn’t see.
He wanted to scream, but his voice wouldn’t work. He opened his mouth but sounds wouldn’t form. His body wouldn’t move so he couldn’t run. He started to feel hot and something in his chest was pounding. His head felt like it was splitting. “Shut it down!”
“Something’s wrong. His body won’t accept the solution. Is it the mutagen?”
They boy’s body heaved, he didn’t know why. The tubes inside him stopped pumping. The burning feeling he had grew more and more intense and the pain in his head was like nothing he ever felt. He cried out but he couldn’t hear is own voice. He was never leaving here. Like the others.
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