Spiral: Chapter One

I

ESCAPE

They piled in one by one, their voices as rough as gunfire, as they marched through the halls of the Detention Centers. Their foot steps resonanted off of the thick, vibranium walls of my cell; the sound of a thousand, chattering gun barrels pounding my eardrums at once. I stared at the cieling, a few droplets of water freefalling down onto my chin as the clock ticked on. The hum of the flood lights above dwindled on and off, as the stillness of the air chapped my lips.

For years I had been stuck in here. The cause of my incarceration was credited to the recent riots in the open; I had been so "lawfully" accused of being someone's accomplice.

I had no idea who the person even was.

Rebels from the north had swarmed the city, intent on pitting "revenge against the government for the death of their hero". Ignorance is truly bliss sometimes. The people believed that the White House had truly ordered the death of their beloved Captain...if only the knew.

They had begun a few months prior - the riots. I had been sheltered away inside of my apartment when the first fire was lit, and even then I hadn't seen the smoke till nearly half the city was burned down. Roaring pillars of crackling, blazing flames lit the horizion. Columns of smoke flooded the night sky, like a dark hurricane of sorrow and ash. Flags burned in the night; buildings crumbled under the sway of a thousand men; cars were looted and people were killed.

And where was I? Locked up in my personal asylum, waiting for all the dust to clear...

When they came for me, I was convinced I was going to die soon. However, they merely stuffed my body in a bag, and carried me off to a metal square. A square so devoid of life that the only thing left to cling on was the sound of one's breath. And even that was as gone as the wind.

The sound of the boots rapping against the metal floors - like knuckles on mahogany - increased. The echo of the men's voices became clearer, as I strained to hear the commands being shouted.

"Do not open the gate! Do not let the prisoner out; by any means necessary!"

Soldiers, I deduced. Their heavy, Southern accents gave me a clue to wear I was; possibly an airforce base somewhere near the Mexican border? I had heard rumors of incursions and hidden military bases, but nothing had ever been clear.

There were more commands to hold the gates; to make sure that no one escaped. As I listened intently, the cieleing above me began to shake. Rubble and dust bunnies rained down upon me like a spring bath; miniscule pieces of concrete clattering to the floor like hail stones. The floolights shook in the cieling, and as I raised myself from my iron platform, everything faded to black.

Lashes touched lashes as I blinked rapidly in the darkness. The shadowy vortex of the room seemed to latch onto me, the cell seeming to shrink smaller and smaller... A cool breeze suddenly hit my face. Gustful winds washed over my cheeks, rapid winter blows slashing at the back of my hands. I looked up, and for the first time in days I saw the stars.

Sparks and embers danced on the floor around me, as the moon light began to shine in on my contaiment area. Bush fires rolled across the concrete perimeter above me, as I strained to unravel the scene I was now witnessing. The entire cieleing of my cell had been ripped off. Iron pipes that dripped biolumenescent, green fluid extended from the lesions in the walls. Smoke hissed and piled up out of the cracks in the concrete, and around me I could hear the sounds of inmates screaming.

Instantly, I felt a rush of adrenaline. Leaping from the solid, silver platform I had somehow learned to call a bed, I latched onto the side of the newly-created wall indentations. Manging to pull myself up, I began to climb towards the cieling, almost 30 feet above. My hands dripped with sweat, while my brows singed and my back yawned in agony.

I reached the ledge of the hole above me, my fingers yearning for a grip on the surface. As I grabbed onto the earth above, my fingers slid backwards. Sand rolled over the edge, pouring onto my face and burying itself into my eyes. I roared in pain, cursing myself as I lost my footing. The fall to the ground was far below, and I knew that I would not survive without my suit...

So that's how I die? Ker-splat on the ground of a vibranium alloy cell? That'll be a story to tell my demons in hell.

As I began to fall towards the dull, gray floor below, my shirt yanked upwards. The wind left my lungs, as saliva flew off my lips in pain. In a desperate attempt to swallow air, I looked up to a see a large, green arm pulling me towards the stars.

I landed in a dusty patch of earth on the surface above the cell. A large, disgruntled face loomed over me; boulder sized canines and molars snarling at my neck as I tried to scramble backwards. Tufts of shaggy, singed black hair hung over my face, as I stared back into the emerald green eyes of a monster.

And as my eyes adjusted to the night, I saw deeper into this face. There was a lost creature in these eyes; something yearning to escape...something yearning to no longer be lonely.

The emotion dissapeared however, as the creatures hands were once again around me. His fingers wrapped around my neck, as he lifted me high into the air. The large, tree long fingers wrapped around my throat, the air beggining to leave me as quickly as it returned. The edges of my vision began to turn a violent, dangerous shade of red, when suddenly there was a voice in the night.

"Put him down." A strong, deep voice called.

The large, emerald creature turned its head, a snarl on its face and growl in the back of its throat. It had a bloodthristy gleam in its eyes, as if it hated being addressed as a subordinate, rather than a superior. At first, it seemed the creautre was going to attack the source of the voice. However, upon seeing the speaker, its fingers loosened from around my throat.

I fell to the ground, a dust fille cough slipping from my tongue. I looked up to see more figures looming over me. As the color returned to my vision, I made out the silhouettes of two men and a woman. They were each very muscular, and clearly clad in pounds upon pounds of tactical weaponry. The closest man - who I assume had spoken - stepped forward, leaning down towards me.

His hair was shaggy and brown, and the left side of his face was ravished with a contorted burn wound. His right eye - a brillian blue - stared down at me, his lips unmoving. He was dressed in a black and yellow wet suit, with a length spider symbol extending across the entirety of the outfit. A sheet of cloth - which I assumed may have been his mask or headgear - hung in his left hand, while a small syringe sat in his right. A strange black liquid swam around in the capsule area, while the needle was aimed at my left eye.

The man shifted his position, so that he was closer to me. His belt was ladden with a variety of pouches; filled with things I hoped to never see. "What is your name?" he said, confirming my suspicion that he was the source of the earlier voice.

"R-Reed...Hammers..." I stammered, my lips dry and my hands burning, scratched, and callused.

The man looked down at me, his black, left eye quivering in the night. He lifted my head up with his hand, inspecting my facial structure. Finally, after what seemed like years, he stood.

"Welcome to hell, Reed," he said.

The syringe left his hand, faster then I could blink. It lodged itself into my throat, and I could feel a steaming, sticky substance enter my blood stream. As my vision imploded, my eyesight turning a crawling, goop-like black, I watched the man walk away.

"Take him to the Barracks," he said. "The Royal One will want to see this."

And then, everything was black.

Next Chapter: Injections