An air vent. Designed into the corner of the room, so obviously sticking out he had no idea how he'd hadn't spotted it. He felt the thrill of fear and hope that been crushed back when he was seized by the soldiers and knocked out with a grenade. He gingerly stepped closer.
He wasn't very towering, he was both small in size and height. He tiptoed closer and thrust his hands up, but he couldn't even reach the edge The room was very drab, just some basic furniture, the bed, and a chair, which he sat on. Picking up the chair, he positioned it on top of his bed, which he arranged right under the vent.
Maybe it's an escape route! I might be able to flee! he thought. He leaped up ever so slightly, pouncing a bit, before securing his fingers on the sill of the vent and pulled himself through. Footsteps began to approach, and he froze momentarily when his ears registered the words "Box, "Maze," and "Subject B1."
He froze in place. They were going to send him back up into the Box and the Maze. He wasn't going to let that happen again, he'd battled enough Shades, risked enough people's lives. Frantically, he thought of a solution, as he crept on his hands and knees, careful not to collide his head against the plastic ceiling above. His fingers brushed the smooth, slightly damp surface, as he traveled through the corridors and had a terrible gut feeling.
I don't even know where I'm going, he thought regretfully. I should go on back. His garments brushed against the plastic surface, causing him to flinch even with the rustle of clothes. He felt around, nothing, but the flat, slightly wet surface surrounded him. Where am I? He kept his head down to avoid connecting his head directly with the ceiling above his head, which was only an inch away.
He twisted his body slightly, shuffling across the plastic vents. There was a bar, which he swerved away from. That was when a horrible gut-feeling truth dawned on him, he was at the end of the corridor. Is it an exit? He daringly lifted his head and regret overcame him the second he looked out.
"Who's there?" a male voice shouted.
"Some mouse, maybe," someone responded. "Set out some poison, I'm not going to have a few mice wandering around this complex I want you to offer me your reports.." Aris took an intake of a sharp breath, relieved that they hadn't spotted him yet, but feeling a sense of familiarity overcome in at the speaker. Flattening out his belly, he poked half of his body through the crack, then regret overcame him the second he did.
"Anyway, Chancellor," he heard the man say. "We have Subject A4 and B1 here, along with quite a few subjects. But we heard...the Right Arm's plot. They've invaded some of our complexes, we must take action and thrust the subjects into the Maze, that'd be more safe and secure for all of us."
"Yes," Paige responded. "I'll begin authorizing the lockdowns some of the complexes so that we can locate the Right Arm's soldiers and have them imprisoned. But...most of them are....too full. We have very limited numbers, Janson, but we must keep them safe and secure in the Mazes, or else the Right Arm will break those subjects out of WICKED."
Janson. Gingerly, he peered completely out of the ventilator. Janson was in front of Paige, but somehow, it looked like something like a force field back when they started the new Trials. "Okay, then, I'll send them up, Dr. Paige, as you wish. " He snapped a salute began sauntering back to the hallway.
He shifted slightly and squirmed in the vent. Clenching his fists, he started on back on his route again. Was there another exit? He swept his hands across each plane of walls. Thrusting his feet outside, he scooted over by his feet, inching closer to another crack. It's like a playground structure, he thought to him, almost amusing himself. A distant memory of himself playing in the playground structure burst into his head and managed to kick his feet out again It's an exit.
Hands clamped on his legs, and he kicked out wildly. "There he is!" It sounded like the Rat Man's voice, though very distant and incoherent and fuzzy to his ears. Someone jabbed a syringe on his shoulder and everything became very black.
***
When his eyes fluttered open, he was being dragged down the halls. "Where are we going?" he murmured. The guard swatted him across the cheeks, causing him to wince, as he hauled him down the hallway. Fishing out a keycard, he swept it across machinery, which allowed the door to click open.
They were in another room, and the guard left the room, the door slamming and securing behind him, but he was outside the door, gun cocked, still and silent as a statue. He was handcuffed to the chair, struggling with no avail. Two minutes later, Janson stepped into the room, Teresa trailing behind him and positioning herself in the corner of the room. "Hello, there, Subject--"
"I already told you, I'm not your subject!" Rage exploded out of Aris, his fingers closed tightly around the arms. Minho is correct. Rat Man it is. Why'd I tell them to call him by his name? It's Rat Man.
"Whatever, Subject B1. Anyway, I'm here to discuss with you why we kept you confined in the room the entire time," Rat Man said. "Everything and anything we do are calculated by our doctors and medical staff, the Psychs. We've ensured that you are responding terribly to all of the Variables.
"This can only allow us , for you to give you back some of your memories. You must be exactly like her, always willing to help out our cause." The Rat Man nodded towards Teresa. "Now, now, I think you'll be cooperating very well now. Go on in with you, we'll eliminate the Swipe and then--"
"I won't let you do that! No more tests!" Aris shouted. Teresa stepped closer to him.
"We have to do this, Aris. I guarantee you, I am receiving my memories back, too. Once that's restored, we can help you out," Teresa said, resting a hand on his shoulder. He nudged her away and leveled Janson with a death glare, calculating the odds, as he watched him.
"I won't let you do it."
"All right, then." Janson rolled his eyes. "What about I said, you'll have your memories completely returned? Recall Teresa, even, and you don't have even to help us out if you agree on getting your memories back, because you've lent us a hand already. You'll be free to go on with your own life." Aris considered his decision. It was true he wanted to remember, but he didn't trust WICKED at all. "And, well, we'll release you and let the rest of us succumb to the Flare." He grinned. "Well, not really, the blueprint's complete the second the procedure's done."
Aris bit his lip. He had no other option. "But....why?"
"That's because I need you to cooperate," Janson said. "Remember your families, your previous life? Not only will you benefit from this tiny operation, but so will we. We won't be able to control your brains, anymore, and we'll release you and the other--your other friends--from WICKED right after that."
At the mention of friends, his head snapped up. Sonya, he thought. He prayed he could talk to her telepathically, but knew he couldn't. Janson seemed to read his mind, as a ghost of a smile tugged on the ratty man's lip. "Yes, Aris, that includes Sonya." His eyes widened; could WICKED read his mind with the device planted inside of his head? "And we won't need her, either."
Aris took an intake of breath. Something was just not right about this. How could they not need him after it? But he nodded anyway.
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