Clang! Clang!! Clang!!!
"Get up, you brat!"
The huge male agent kept banging his baton on the metal bars that made up Mark's cell.
Of all the agents in the containment facility who worked as guards, this one took pride in the authority he commanded over the inmates, and over the years, he had grown particularly fond of Mark.
Mark lay on the sole bed in the cell, reluctant to get up. The bed in question was just a thin foam mat placed on an iron frame, but that became Mark's only source of comfort in this hellhole.
The uniform he wore was old and frail and barely covered the scars that decorated his entire body — scars that had accumulated from years of horrible beatings.
Mark had long grown accustomed to the routine — he was woken up in the morning and injected with a dose of Niltrax to null his powers. Then, he was 'trained' by the agents, which was a fancy way of saying that he got beaten and forced to defend himself without the use of his manipulation.
"Get up, or I'll come in and drag you out!" The guard agent repeated loudly.
Mark slowly got up and sat on the bed. With a brief yawn, he cracked his neck and stretched his limbs. His body had grown buff and looked muscular for a twenty-year-old.
"You know the drill, psycho. Step forward."
Mark stood up and lurched to the front of his cell, where the guard waited impatiently. He stretched his right arm forward towards the guard.
The guard pulled out a jet injector and shot a dose of Niltrax into Mark's arm. The drug took effect immediately, pushing Mark to a mild state of drowsiness yet keeping him awake. Soon, he felt incredibly heavy and wanted to fall on the floor.
After the injection, the guard opened the cell door and dragged Mark out, quickly cuffing his arms behind his back.
"Agent Greta has been really excited to see you today. You're going to love it."
The cruel guard nudged Mark forward, leading him down a narrow corridor. On both sides were more prison cells — most empty, some filled with other inmates.
Mark glanced both ways at the faces of other powerborns, all downcast and hopeless. Many of them had been in those cells all their lives, and Mark inwardly wished he could do something to save all of them.
Sadly, there was no escaping this place. It was their reality now.
But not for long, he thought.
Mark was led into the large, familiar training room filled with melee weapons. A female agent was already inside, practicing her martial arts with a long, wooden pole. Upon sighting Mark, a crooked smile appeared on her scarred face.
"Welcome back, four forty-nine. We were starting to think you'd never wake."
Mark stared at Agent Greta with the cold fury of a burning star. Throughout the years, she had become the prime source of his torment, and her horrible-looking face was permanently seared into his memory.
However, he had counted every blow she meted out to him over the years and vowed to repay every single one someday.
Wham!
Greta suddenly hit Mark in the face with the wooden pole, disrupting his thoughts.
"It's rude to stare at a lady. Didn't your mother teach you that?"
Mark boiled with anger at the mention of his mother. His first impulse was to hit her back, but the Niltrax he was injected with wasn't just designed to dampen powers; it weakened his impulses, making him slow to react.
"Give him a weapon, Hans," Greta ordered the guard agent. "Let's get started."
The big guard picked out another wooden pole and tossed it to Mark. Then he took a metal bat for himself.
"Ready when you are." Agent Hans said to his partner.
And so it began. Again.
The agents chased Mark around, attacking him viciously while he tried to defend himself. But he had long gotten used to the combat and developed unique skills to counter the agents.
He managed to fend off their attacks, then he made a strategic move that knocked Agent Greta off her feet and kicked her to the floor.
"I see you're getting better, four forty-nine," Greta uttered, thrusting herself upright with a kick-up. "Let's take this up a notch."
She tossed the long wooden pole to a corner and picked up two iron batons.
"Alright. Let's see you do that again."
Agent Greta lunged at Mark with the intent to hurt him terribly. Hans also did the same from a different direction. Mark held up his pole, ready to defend himself.
If Mark had not been injected with Niltrax, he could have easily handled both agents. But the drug's dampening effect was too strong. After a while, he was overpowered by the agents and knocked to the ground.
Even after Mark fell, Hans and Greta still beat him horribly, creating new scars on all parts of his body. Mark did well to protect his face, but the damage was too painful, and he fell unconscious.
The agents paused their beatdown when they realized their prisoner had passed out.
"He'll wake up in time for round two," Hans assured Greta. She responded with a shrug and moved to another corner of the room, where she began punching a bag.
Suddenly, the entrance doors swung open, and a general marched into the room, along with two more agents.
Hans and Greta quickly rushed forward and saluted.
"General Zorn, sir!"
Zorn looked as intimidating as always, but as the years passed, he had grown older and a little weary.
Completely ignoring the salute, he walked towards Mark's body, which lay unconscious on the floor.
"Agent Hans, Greta... Did I give you orders to train prisoner four forty-nine?"
"Yes... You did, sir." Greta replied.
"Good. Did I give you orders to kill prisoner four forty-nine?"
"No, sir."
"So, do you care to explain why prisoner four forty-nine is lying at my feet, bleeding and unconscious?"
"He's not dead, sir."
"Well that's not the point now, is it?" General Zorn marched towards the agents and stared at them furiously. "Four-forty-nine is a dangerous powerborn who could one day be a great asset to our Agency. Without his powers, he still has the strength of five men combined! What use is he to me if you beat him dead?!"
The agents remained silent, shaken by the General's berating tone.
"We apologize, sir," they replied simultaneously.
"Oh, shut up."
General Zorn pulled a document from his jacket and handed it to Agent Hans.
"Marcus Thornwell, a.k.a prisoner four forty-nine, has officially reached the age of twenty and will be transferred to the advanced experimentation division. Effective immediately. Get the paperwork rolling."
"Yes, sir." Agent Hans replied with a salute, then left the room with the transfer document.
General Zorn snapped his fingers, and the two agents he had stepped in with walked over to Mark's unconscious body and picked him up from the floor. As they did so, Mark regained consciousness and groaned in pain.
"Good, he's still breathing... Let's go."
Both agents locked elbows with Mark as he stood up on his feet. General Zorn left the training room, and they quickly followed behind him.
Mark opened his eyes as wide as he could. He had no idea where they were headed, but he noticed that the new guards were not leading him through the familiar route back to his cell. Now, they were passing through a darker lobby.
From his early prison days, Mark had witnessed many prisoners get taken from their cells and never returned. Rumor had it that they were tortured horribly and killed.
Many prisoners prayed never to experience it, but Mark was not afraid — nothing could be worse than the suffering he had endured for the last ten years.
However, he wasn't going to wait and find out.
He had to escape.
Two years ago, Mark realized that the effect of Niltrax on his body faded faster. Soon afterward, his body adapted to the drug and grew almost resistant. The drug still weakened his system, but his powers remained intact.
He had kept this secret, hoping to utilize it someday for his escape.
The time had finally come.
Ahead of the party, there was an elevator that would lead them to their destination. Before they got to it, Mark decided to make his move.
His hands were already in contact with the agents who carried him, so his problem was half-solved. In a single breath, Mark activated his aura for the first time in years and electrocuted both guards simultaneously.
General Zorn heard the dull thud the bodies made as they fell to the ground. He immediately turned around to find Mark standing straight, his eyes glowing bright blue and his aura radiating with an intensity Zorn had never seen before.
"This is impossible!" he yelled, pulling out a disruptor.
Mark smiled confidently as the General shot multiple darts at him. It was painful, but he had grown accustomed to it. Slowly, he approached the General as the latter retreated, visibly scared.
"It's been a while, Zorn. How would you like to feel some pain?"
Mark raised his right arm, ready to fire a bolt at the General, but to his surprise, the General dropped his disruptor and pulled out a pistol. Before Mark could react, the General fired.
Mark's blue aura immediately vanished as the bullet struck him right in his chest, piercing through his left lung. He began to bleed heavily, and soon, he collapsed to the floor.
This time, it was Zorn who wore a smile on his face. He slowly approached Mark with his gun still aimed and ready to shoot.
"We could have used you for something great, but now I see you'll never change. Goodbye, Thornwell."
General Zorn aimed directly at Mark's head, and fired.