Post by Cassiopeia Reyes-Hart on Oct 27, 2008 11:45:32 GMT -5
Cassiopeia lay on her side on the cot she'd been given, in her small five-by-five foot room. She was dressed in a medical-style tan colored top and matching bottoms, simple and utilitarian. The blonde teen stared unseeingly at the opposite wall, her metallic eyes swirling and then going inert, swirling and then going inert. Her body was completely still save for the way it twitched a little at every shifting, a faint whimper of discomfort escaping her lips, but that was about all the reaction she could summon.
They gave her injections of something, every day, that made it impossible for Cassi to fight the activation of her powers. They said it would make her stronger, more resilient to the "unfortunate side-effect" that accompanied her ability. Something they called "Second-Sight." A very powerful ability. They were very excited about it, about training her to use it in service to the government. It was her duty as a citizen of the United Earth Federation to use her abilities for the greater good, after all. She was created for that very purpose, a tool for them to utilize as they saw a need. Cassi was to acquiesce to their orders peaceably and obediently.
Otherwise they would put her in the shock-treatment chair again, and cut off all her hair.
Cassiopeia groaned a little, confusing and chaotic images whirling in front of her eyes, feeling sick. But there wasn't anything left in her stomach to purge. She wasn't sure just how long she had been here, now. Days, weeks, months. Time seemed to blur together, confusing and distorted, until she had no hope of telling one from the other.
Cassi suddenly saw Andromeda but she was far too young, maybe only eight or nine years old, sitting underneath a tree and reading a heavy medical book while the other kids played around her, pointing and whispering amongst themselves. And then an instant later that vision left and she saw the Captain, but much younger, a beautiful slender girl with shining red hair and brilliant blue eyes so full of hope and promise. Then she saw Morgan, but he seemed older somehow, his dark face drawn and ravaged with guilt and pain. Then she saw a girl she didn't recognize, one with tiger-striped skin and familiar purple eyes, grinning triumphantly.
The visions kept blurring in and out of focus, endlessly, some coming and leaving too quickly for her to process it, too exhausted to try. Cassiopeia tensed slightly when she heard sounds outside her room. Her eyes swirled, and she saw the now-familiar face of the guard who watched her wing.
He was young, maybe only a few years older than her, with short-cropped auburn hair and emerald green eyes, a military rifle secured over one shoulder as he reached for the numerical pad outside her door. His uniform jacket read "Altair." His expression was always grim with determined duty, but his eyes were softer. More so than anyone else in this accursed place.
One of the doctors was standing impatiently behind him. Cassiopeia started to shake harder, tears pooling in her wide-open eyes. Her turn for testing had come again.
Dr. Sampson entered her cell, his wormy face stretched into a wide grin. "Miss Reyes, come along with us now. It's time for your weekly stress test."
Cassi whimpered, curling into a tighter ball. She didn't want to go. It hurt so much . . . .
The doctor scowled. "Altair, get her on her feet."
The young soldier grimaced but moved forward as he'd been told. "Come on," he ordered, his tenor voice sharp. Yet his hands were exceedingly gentle as they curled around her arms and carefully pulled her up into a seated position. Cassi stared up at him, her silver eyes terrified and imploring, meeting his own anguished green stare.
Her vision shifted, and she saw him laughing, older, dressed in casual clothes with a deadly-looking rifle slung across his back.
"You can do this," he whispered to her, soft enough that the doctor behind them didn't hear, bringing Cassi back to the present. She focused on his suddenly intent, determined stare. "Just a little while longer, sweetheart."
Cassi wasn't given a chance to puzzle that out, as Altair was hauling her to her feet a moment later and then ushering her for the door. She stumbled, her body weak, but his firm grip on her arms kept her upright. Cassi was half-led, half-carried into another room, and she started shaking again at the sight of the chair. Her whimpering sobs were largely ignored as she was set down into it, her wrists and ankles strapped in place. And then the doctors fit the apparatus over her face, clamping her eyelids wide open, keeping her from being able to close them.
She began to hyperventilate a little as one of the doctor's neared her with a syringe of the now-familiar orange-colored concoction. She stared at it, her eyes swirling on and off. For an instant she saw herself instead of the needle, sitting in this chair, thrashing, wailing in pain, streams of blood oozing out of her wide-open eyes.
Much like it did every time they "stressed" her powers.
Cassi pulled futilely on the restraints, then let out a loud, keening wail as the needle pierced her arm. And then the world around her shattered into a million glittering shards.
They gave her injections of something, every day, that made it impossible for Cassi to fight the activation of her powers. They said it would make her stronger, more resilient to the "unfortunate side-effect" that accompanied her ability. Something they called "Second-Sight." A very powerful ability. They were very excited about it, about training her to use it in service to the government. It was her duty as a citizen of the United Earth Federation to use her abilities for the greater good, after all. She was created for that very purpose, a tool for them to utilize as they saw a need. Cassi was to acquiesce to their orders peaceably and obediently.
Otherwise they would put her in the shock-treatment chair again, and cut off all her hair.
Cassiopeia groaned a little, confusing and chaotic images whirling in front of her eyes, feeling sick. But there wasn't anything left in her stomach to purge. She wasn't sure just how long she had been here, now. Days, weeks, months. Time seemed to blur together, confusing and distorted, until she had no hope of telling one from the other.
Cassi suddenly saw Andromeda but she was far too young, maybe only eight or nine years old, sitting underneath a tree and reading a heavy medical book while the other kids played around her, pointing and whispering amongst themselves. And then an instant later that vision left and she saw the Captain, but much younger, a beautiful slender girl with shining red hair and brilliant blue eyes so full of hope and promise. Then she saw Morgan, but he seemed older somehow, his dark face drawn and ravaged with guilt and pain. Then she saw a girl she didn't recognize, one with tiger-striped skin and familiar purple eyes, grinning triumphantly.
The visions kept blurring in and out of focus, endlessly, some coming and leaving too quickly for her to process it, too exhausted to try. Cassiopeia tensed slightly when she heard sounds outside her room. Her eyes swirled, and she saw the now-familiar face of the guard who watched her wing.
He was young, maybe only a few years older than her, with short-cropped auburn hair and emerald green eyes, a military rifle secured over one shoulder as he reached for the numerical pad outside her door. His uniform jacket read "Altair." His expression was always grim with determined duty, but his eyes were softer. More so than anyone else in this accursed place.
One of the doctors was standing impatiently behind him. Cassiopeia started to shake harder, tears pooling in her wide-open eyes. Her turn for testing had come again.
Dr. Sampson entered her cell, his wormy face stretched into a wide grin. "Miss Reyes, come along with us now. It's time for your weekly stress test."
Cassi whimpered, curling into a tighter ball. She didn't want to go. It hurt so much . . . .
The doctor scowled. "Altair, get her on her feet."
The young soldier grimaced but moved forward as he'd been told. "Come on," he ordered, his tenor voice sharp. Yet his hands were exceedingly gentle as they curled around her arms and carefully pulled her up into a seated position. Cassi stared up at him, her silver eyes terrified and imploring, meeting his own anguished green stare.
Her vision shifted, and she saw him laughing, older, dressed in casual clothes with a deadly-looking rifle slung across his back.
"You can do this," he whispered to her, soft enough that the doctor behind them didn't hear, bringing Cassi back to the present. She focused on his suddenly intent, determined stare. "Just a little while longer, sweetheart."
Cassi wasn't given a chance to puzzle that out, as Altair was hauling her to her feet a moment later and then ushering her for the door. She stumbled, her body weak, but his firm grip on her arms kept her upright. Cassi was half-led, half-carried into another room, and she started shaking again at the sight of the chair. Her whimpering sobs were largely ignored as she was set down into it, her wrists and ankles strapped in place. And then the doctors fit the apparatus over her face, clamping her eyelids wide open, keeping her from being able to close them.
She began to hyperventilate a little as one of the doctor's neared her with a syringe of the now-familiar orange-colored concoction. She stared at it, her eyes swirling on and off. For an instant she saw herself instead of the needle, sitting in this chair, thrashing, wailing in pain, streams of blood oozing out of her wide-open eyes.
Much like it did every time they "stressed" her powers.
Cassi pulled futilely on the restraints, then let out a loud, keening wail as the needle pierced her arm. And then the world around her shattered into a million glittering shards.