Test Subject 17

1. Subjects

(THIS HAS BEEN REVISED AND EDITED. REREAD TO FIND OUT WHAT CHANGED!!)

In addition to Phoenix, I dedicate this chapter to @mk_the_author, @SimiSanju @Crying_Fallen-Angels, @Sunshine_Daisies, and @JuJuSmith22. Thank you guys for pointing out major things wrong with this first chapter. I really appreciate it 1,000 times over. And because of you, I can rewrite the structure of this story and make it better. You guys are the best!!!

-Paige

Her. That's all I can seem to think about now, is her. Her honey-colored eyes, soft black hair, and tanned skin. Her voice sounded like bells in a church. Melodieous and happy. But there's one thing I'll never forget. The fear that washed out everything when she saw who I really am...

"17!" Johnson calls. My head snaps up towards our "warden", as a lot of us call him, as my name is called. That's how we are identified. Test numbers, as if we're nothing more than dogs discarded at the pound. Unwanted and unloved.

Our numbers are designated when we get brought in and after being tested for things like strength, ability, and endurance. Whatever name we had before being brought here, we don't remember.

We know why though. At least the ones high enough on the chain of command do. We see kids being brought in with a full memory. They know their parents, relatives, home address, everything and after they come from questioning and testing, it's all gone.

A few like to believe that they tortured the kid so hard that the memories faded from their brain. It's actually become a joke around here, just something to laugh at. The way we older and more experienced kids pass the time.

The man looks at me. He has black hair with graying sideburns along with a couple of lines on his face that make him look like he's always scowling. He wears an all-black suit, very similar to the clothes we wear. Only difference is that his sleeves are longer and the colors are different. His eyes are an icy electric blue that can seem warm at times and others... just as hard and cold as I feel.

"Yes sir?" I glance around, looking at the others in their gray uniforms, just like mine. Even our hair is the same, depending on gender. Girls have their hair extremely short and straight. They're told to keep it either in a ponytail or as short as the guy's. Most opt for the ponytail.

The guys, like me, always have a buzz cut. The Superiors say it's so no one can grab a hold of our hair in combat, which I understand, but yeah right. Even the slightest bit can be grabbed if you know how. This is just another way to control us.

Everyone here is uniformed. From the people that watch over us, the soldiers that guard our doors, to the people they test on. Though, there are a few rumors that if you get high enough or transfer, you can do whatever you like to your hair. Some are excited and try to do it, others don't give a shit.

I can feel the anxiety of being picked for the next contract washing over the people in the Assignment Room. It's basically a place where Warden gathers a particular group that is either certified or eligible for a kill, which is usually me.

"You're up. The file will be left in your cell." He looks away from me, walking to a table and taking out a manila envelope. I nod and the others relax, and they should. I've been on more assignments than they have, and the Superiors seem to be testing what all my ability can do.

It didn't seem very useful at first until I tried escaping several times using it. After that, the S's are always asking if I have any new developments in what I can do. I haven't told them everything, or they'd run more experiments on me and it sucks. They poke and prod at you, take so many blood samples it's like they're stocking up for a vampire or something, and don't get me started on the electro treatments.