Written By: Dracnea

Help From: Pevocs and Bohemian Blasphemy

Part 1: The Room

          He sat in his chair. In the large white room, the only thing he had known for so long. The room was nothing too extravagant; his chair, his bed, some other furniture, all of the typical things that a room should have. It was not something that would give someone claustrophobia; it was large and decent enough to live in.  To one the room would appear completely normal, if it was not for a few strange facts. This fact being that not just the room, but everything was white, as if a paint can had been spilled over it all. The other strange feature was that this room had no visible door, no way for anyone to enter or exit.

          You may wonder, “How was he put in here?”, “How does he get food to eat?” That is a simple question; there was a small chute on the side of one wall where his food would appear for him to eat at proper mealtimes. However, The question of how they had put him inside the room was a complete mystery, for he had simply woken up in here one day. This room was obviously built to contain or isolate him with great purpose, and to give him as little contact with other people as possible.

          He had plenty in order to keep him occupied. He had books, some gym equipment, puzzles, and all kinds of things that would keep someone from going insane while also helping to develop them as a person. Although it was a strange room and a strange life they were not necessarily bad. The only thing that was unbearable at times was the complete isolation from anything else living. Even though peaceful and as well treated as he was, he still wanted to get out of here and see the outside once more.

Part 2: The Meeting

          They were making him into a weapon. He knew this to be a fact, and he didn’t like that one bit. He had known this to be true for awhile now; it was getting obvious. They put him through tests in his own room; mental and physical exercises. He played along in order to not arouse suspicion or get himself killed. “There must be a reason for all of this” he would think to himself “Maybe some sort of sick social experiment”. It seemed that they were trying to mold and form him both mentally and physically. There was one thing he had noticed over time. The strange thing was that he could tell that they wanted him to hang onto hope. He couldn’t tell why. Perhaps, they wanted him to be motivated and to continue things, only to mold and break him more and more.

           “Number 3691, please stand up and prepare to be entered” said a sudden and loud voice over the monitor in the ceiling. He stood up suddenly, surprised to have heard a voice, not a natural occurrence in any sense. He wondered how they would get into the room since there was no visible door. The voice then boomed “Number 3691, stand still--do not attempt anything or you will be punished.” He instantly froze where he stood, not daring to make any movement or action that they did not want, fearful for his life.

           He stood there, waiting and looking around, when suddenly a sliding door of sorts opened up, various heavily armored men walked into the room and quickly detained him. He did not struggle at all; he was both curious and extremely scared to see what was going to happen to him now. Had he done something wrong?, Had he proven to be useless?, Did they know that he knew what they were trying to do to him?. So many questions raced through his head as they lifted him up and carried him out, down the hall, and into a room.

Part 3: Gone

          They sat him down in an old wooden chair. There was a large metal desk in front of him, intense lights on his face and skin as he adjusted slowly to the overly bright light from the lamp. Besides this one lamp the room had a dark feeling. The walls, the furniture, everything had an old, dirty feel to it. He looked across the table to see a man, somewhat thin and older. He wore round glasses, a brown suit, a large amount of hair and a proper mustache. Even though he was thin and of average size there was something about him that made you respect him. He sat their looking at the boy, it seemed like an eternity, both eye to eye.

          He was about to say something when he was interrupted by the man asked “Do you know why you are here Number 3691?” He nodded his head to say no; unsure of what had caused this whole ordeal. The man then asked “Do you want to be free, out of here?” He paused and looked at him, unsure as to how to answer, not wanted to say yes or no in fear or the wrong response. The man folding his hands together, looking calmly at the boy said “We already know that answer, don’t we? And we already know that you understand what we are up to.” The boy, looking at the man in horror, beginning to sweat and fidget, knowing his death may come soon, fearing the worst possible outcome. What the man said next surprised him “If you want out, then you know what you have to do don’t you?” The boy stopped and looked right at the man.