THE ULTIMATUM
Bock was jolted awake by the loud screeching of an alarm. After dragging himself out of bed, he noticed his breakfast had already been place on the table by someone, probably the personnel around. He proceeded to eat the meal then headed to the bathroom to take a shower. As he carefully unlocked he layers of bandages wrapped around his head, he witnessed that the head region which was a bloody mess as already scabbed over with new skin even forming. A process which should have taken about a week even with his improved physique. Brock begun to panic not knowing what to do he immediately covered his head back with the bandages. After calming down, his eyes turned towards the shower head, before knowing he was already in front of it. he begum ramming his head into it in an attempt to reinjure himself.
It did not take long for the guards to rush into his room a few moments after he begun his act. He was slammed into the batheroom walls by one of the guards and who them proceeded to hold Brock in choke hold. Brock begun to struggle hoping to break free. "Self-harm incident in Cell 402," the guard reported. "Subject was bashing his skull against the shower head. Requesting medical assessment." The guards marched Brock to the examination center, on his way he took note of the various rooms and pathways, his cell was located on the lowest floor, the examination center was located on the third floor and when they passed through the second floor he noted that it did not only contain training hall it also housed the armory and ware houses.
from this he deduced that the place where the adolescents are being experimented on is also on the third floor. He did not only take note of the facilities on the floors he took note of the security doors that had general access and one that required specific authorization.
"Instructor Stone and the head researcher will have high authorization", he thought
After a quick scan at the examination center where his injuries where treated, he was immediately dismissed to the training facility. On the way to the training hall Brock braced himself for another round of torment. To his surprise, Instructor Stone wasn't around instead a lanky looking man stood in his place and beside him stood a familiar acquaintance, Subject 100. Seeing her Brock came to a realization that he wasn't the only one who survived the experiment. The lanky man clapped his hands drawing both their attention after which he announced that Instructor Stone would be away for a while, so he was going to be take chargefor the time being. "I go by the name Wilson," he said. He then proceeded to introduce 100 as Brock's training partner, a fact Brock already guessed.
Wilson laid out the plan: for the next three months, they were to learn the basics of kickboxing and practice marksmanship. After which, they would be sent on their first missions. Hearing this, Brock felt a surge of glee; he knew this would be his chance to escape.
With that training begun.
Wilson stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his lanky frame casting a long, thin shadow over the mats. "Kickboxing isn't about hitting," he said in a not so imposing tone. "It is about the body. We start with the stance."
He demonstrated the basic stance, feet apart, strong foot pointing forward, rear foot behind curved at an angle, hands up and in front. "If your base is weak, your strike is as good as cotton balls."
Brock mimicked the movements albert clumsily, which was unintentional since he had no combat experience. He processed the rotation of the hip for a jab and the way the rear leg acted as a spring for the cross.
During the drills, he felt eyes on him. 100 was casting quick, sharp glances his way every time Wilson turned his back.
"I know I'm handsome even when bald, but you don't have to look at me like that", Brock thought to himself, his lips twitching almost imperceptibly as he threw a slow jab. They spent half a day repeating the same movements over and over again.
"Enough kick boxing for today we are moving to the next aspect of your training." Wilson said.
They moved to a specialized section of the training hall, lined with sound proofing equipment. On the table not far from them lay several black polymer handguns.
"This is a weapon" Wilson said, picking up a sidearm.
He spent the next few hours breaking down the basics of marksman ship. He showed them the 'Modern Iso' stance, feet square to the target, arms extended like a tripod. He explained the difference between a striker-fired and a hammer-fired weapon.
"Eject the magazine. Slide back to clear the chamber and inspect," Wilson commanded.
Brock watched Wilson's long fingers as it run along the barrel. When it was his turn, Brock purposely fumbled with the magazine release the first time. by the third attempt, the mistakes he made had clearly reduced in number.
Wilson then demonstrated disassembling the handgun into its four core components, the frame, the slide, the barrel, and the recoil spring. "Assemble it. Again. Faster. Until it is part of your hand."
As Brock clicked the slide back onto the frame for the tenth time, he looked down at the weapon.
They practiced the various forms of stances in handling different guns like SMGs, AK-47, 73 WASP, and modern guns like the 194-sub electric shooter (SES-194 for short).
The day finally came to an end and just like that two month had passed, Brock was no longer a rookie when it came to basic fighting and marksman ship but not as experienced to be labeled as a guard. Also, during that whole period there was not a time that 100 did not miss the chance to look at him. Making Brock very weary of her.
. At the start of the third month, Brock entered the training hall expecting to be greeted by Wilson's annoying voice. Instead, he saw Stone standing there, gripping the all familiar bat. Brock began to shiver involuntarily. "This man isn't dead. Why did he come back? Argh, he's going to kill me", Brock thought to himself in a panic.
It turned out that Inspector Stone had arrived back at the facility a few days before the second month ended, though he had been occupied dealing with matters at the base.
Stone's voiced boomed through the hall, " you guys have made considerable progress, so I wont teach you much. My focus will be on the mental aspect in which I believe you 100 have a better grasp of. So most of my attention will be on you 088,be ready"
Stone pointed to 100 a training dummy for her to test her skills. He the turned to focus his gaze on Brock. " you might think this training is useless due to your unawakened status, but let me give you a piece of advice if you want to survive in this organization better put effort into this". Stone tossed the bat aside and approached Brock. He then pointed toward the area where 100 was training. "Join her," he commanded, his voice cold and dismissive.
Brock felt strange, he thought the man was going to begin his round of torture again. He trudged over to the section filled with combat puppets. 100 was already there, her eyes fixed on him as usual.
As Brock began to strike the puppet, his mind was still reeling from the odd behavior of Stone.. Suddenly, 100 leaned in closer, her voice barely a whisper beneath the thuds of the training hall.
"You did not get brainwashed, isn't it?"
A violent shiver ran down Brock's spine. He froze, his heart hammering against his ribs, but before he could even think of a way to play it off, 100 continued.
"Don't worry. I also didn't get brainwashed."
The admission released some of the tension in Brock's chest, but he didn't relax entirely. He kept his guard up, his eyes darting toward the cameras and Stone's distant figure, wondering if this was another test or if he had finally found an ally. Brock continued to practice with the training puppet, as he pretended not to hear a thing she said. His heart was still racing from her admission, but his survival instinct told him to stay silent.
100 didn't let up. "I can help you," she said.
It was there Brock felt something was amiss. The distance between his training puppet and hers was significantly wide for a whisper to sound with such clarity, even if she had been leaning over. He threw a wide hook at the puppet, using the momentum to turn his body and face her while pretending to still be focused on his training.
As he looked at her, the voice came again. "let me help you." Brock was completely stupefied. He was staring directly at 100, and saw that she hadn't even moved her lips. 100, noticing his shocked expression, spoke directly into his mind again. "Do you believe me now?"
Brock shot her a look that screamed, Do you think I'm a fool? Even though he was on edge and caught off guard, he refused to let surprise override his logic.
"I guess I have to show some credibility," 100's voice echoed in his head. "you are an awakened, one with a unique talent as well, but there seems to be something wrong with your mental space. I don't quite know what it is but it making it hard for your mental space to manifest." Hearing that she knew he was an awakened and knew that there was something wrong with his mental space, Brock was inclined to believe her a little. Also he was secretly happy that she did not know what was particularly wrong with his space. He still didn't understand how she was communicating, but he figured it was through the mind. He concentrated, projecting a thought as hard as he could, What do you want?. After all why did she tell him now of all times. 100's response immediately made him doubt his reality. "Nothing," she replied. "I only want to help a fellow survivor." Brock gave her a flat, sideways glance that told her exactly what he thought of; like Bruh, you don't expect me to believe that shit, do you?
100 didn't argue. She simply gave a small, knowing smirk and turned back to her training puppet. "I have given you my offer," she said. "Take it or leave it."