Project: Ascendance

I wake up, and I don’t know who I am. I’m in a weird, concrete room, with columns, no bars, covering the… window, yeah, that’s it. I look around, and notice that the doors similarly barred. Prison. The word comes to me, from the depths of my mind, like a piece of driftwood rising from the ocean floor. I’m in a prison. There’s a sound, a sound like… well, I don’t know what. Footsteps. There it is again. Same as the last word, rising out of the darkness of my mind like a specter, coming of it’s own will. The… footsteps, are getting louder. Fear. Another word, this one different. Bringing on a rush of energy, the need to run, to escape. I don’t like this word. It sounds… strange, like something that appears fine, but holds a darker secret. The footsteps, still getting louder, getting closer, until, they stop. A shadow falls over the doorway. A woman. Her hair done up in a bun. Her… eyes, green and penetrating behind 2 rectangles of seemingly solid air. She wears a lab coat, with high heels. I feel like I should know her, from somewhere. It’s a strange feeling, like I know that we’ve met, we’ve talked, but I don’t actually remember what we did. Lies. There’s another word, each new one bringing a shape to… something. I don’t feel alone. I feel something primal in my head, like I’m merely a mouse in the den of a lion, and that that lion’s waking up. “Specimen 4k-9, code name: Abaddon, vital signs…stand still please.” There’s a noise, loud, high, but quick, less than a breath long. “Vital signs: optimal, psycho-analysis…” and then a sharp pain, a bright light, fade to dark, a blissful ignorance.

…

I wake up, and I have no idea where I am. I’m surrounded by a lot of green, oh, and brown. Freedom. Says the presence in my head. I look behind me, and see a path of black with little vague shapes of red and orange, fire, dancing around the edges. I look farther down the path, and see a… building… that’s it, a building, with a jagged hole in it’s side. The building appears to have fire dancing on it, throwing up dark clouds. That doesn’t seem like it’s supposed to happen. Buildings seem like their not supposed to be on fire, or have a jagged hole in the side but I can’t tell why. As I watch, shapes start leaving the building, big, black boxes on circles, coming along the path. Danger. The presence says, and again, I do not like the word. It brings on a rush of energy, a pulse of raw power runs through my body, my legs painfully morphing into… I’m not sure. As I look down, I see layers of shiny black shapes rising from my skin to cover it, my legs reversing shape as I cry a roar of pain and agony that gradually turns into a challenge. My sight is different, sharper, stronger. I look at my arms and see the same black shapes covering them. I look over my shoulder and see 2 large shapes that look like hands with tissue spread between the fingers… wings. I look behind me and see the boxes getting closer. Men climbing out with strange shapes in their arms, like long tubes, but with 2 blocks jutting out from under them, guns. They point the guns at me, and one of them shouts something, and the guns come alive, blasting fire and spitting metal at me. I remember knowing I should feel pain, but only feeling little pokes where the metal-spit hit me. I blacked out again, but not before hearing my throat roar in protest, my wings expanding, and the world dropping beneath me.