catalysis // DrEvilsin
Mar 21, 2016 7:25:42 GMT -5
Post by Onyx on Mar 21, 2016 7:25:42 GMT -5
“and i'm bleeding right before the lord” jesse trivitt - eighteen - district one My ears ring like a bomb’s gone off right next to me, and that’s exactly what the aching in my chest and arms, and the blinding brightness that fills my vision, remind me of, too. I lie on the ground in a daze, unable to speak, see or hear. All I can really do is feel, and the sense of touch, lying almost invisibly under the thick blanket of pain that covers my whole body, makes me aware of the series of events which happen immediately after I hit the body in front of me, and then the ground. First, I feel the pressure of another body across my leg. The stranger who blocked my escape clearly fell with me – who knew I was going fast enough to be that powerful? I take a moment of pride at my speed, and then regretfully chide myself again for my carelessness in checking the way was clear. Next, I am aware that the rumbling vibrations of the truck careering through the streets have whirred to a halt – and close by, too. Shit. I’m caught now, I know. I try to move, but the weight on my leg is too great and all I do is writhe, like the maggot of some large, scrawny insect. Or like trapped prey. A pooling headache forms and fades at the front of my skull, telling me that it’s safe to stop squinting my eyes and look up at the world, which is no longer overexposed. However, when I do so, the scene in front of me is no less white and gleaming. Have I gone blind? Suddenly, I feel gravel being kicked against my face as a boot comes to a melodramatic stop right by where I’m lying. I realise that what I must be looking at isn’t due to a retinal error, but is the cold, hard, and very real shell of a Peacekeeper’s body armour. A rough hand grabs me by the collar of my blue shirt, tugging the buttoned front against my neck so I choke suddenly. As I begin to be dragged backwards, my arms rise and fall limply and I splutter out a defiant “Fuck you”. I can feel the loose stones tearing holes in the backs of my trousers and digging into the skin there. Let them make me bleed. Although I can’t see where I’m going, I manage to turn my head away from my gaoler’s arm and towards my companion, who is letting out shrieks of pain as he is similarly tugged by one arm, which is beginning to bloom vivid bruises. I want to apologise, but seeing him yelp and cry so weakly, I can only be embarrassed that he isn’t stolid, like I am. Perhaps he just hasn’t been caught as many times as I have, and isn’t so used to the brutality. The truck we are heaved into is green and beginning to rust – an old model, unlike the new, six-wheeled monstrosities which are only brought out on very special occasion; vehicles which I’ve only seen once or twice, but never managed to summon myself. Yet. The back is sealed by a mesh door which the second Peacekeeper closes and locks, and I notice quickly that the lock and bolt mechanism is nowhere near as old as the truck itself. There would be almost no point in trying to break it, so I start to look around for another way out. All the time that I sit, patiently waiting for the truck to start trundling towards the Discipline Bay, and then onwards to the Detention Centre once they realise that there’s no use interrogating a seasoned regular, who could hold out to the last, and a whimpering bystander with nothing interesting to say, my companion regards me with a mix of bitterness and, I think, fear. I grin at him wildly for a second, and then let my face drop into a hostile blank. “What are you looking at?” I ask, playing the bully even though I know that this stranger could beat me to a pulp if he wanted to. But when has that ever stopped me saying something stupid before? “This all new to you, huh? Don’t worry, I’ll give you a tour as soon as we get in.” I gurn, and then smirk, settling back into peaceful stillness as I continue to search the container we sit in. Everything, from the walls and floor to the benches themselves, seems to be unbreakable, and these Peacekeepers haven’t left any implements in the back which I could use as a weapon. It has to be first work, or no work at all – and it’s looking like the latter. I guess to get out of here, I’m going to have to get dramatic. |