Warrior Games

Chapter Four

All White

He dreamt the same thing all over again. Just like the other countless times.

An explosion. Shattering glass. The panicked shout of his mother.

"Kyle!"

Kyle's eyes snapped open in alarm even as he suppressed the urge to call out the name of his mother. Tears stung his eyelids. Why? Why does he have to endure endless nightmares of his mother. Man, she was already dead. Must he have to relive the experience every freaking damn time?

He tried to raise his hands to palm his face but was surprised to discover that he couldn't move them. Panic threatened to overcome him but he forced himself to calm down and decided to assess his situation. What he did assess left him feeling a little shocked.

He couldn't. . . see anything. Well, he could see something but it was better counted as not seeing anything at all. All around him, encasing his lying form was a thick glass pod that he found out shimmered with a strange energy that hummed hypnotically. Kyle guessed that he couldn't move because of the same energy. He could feel some sort of suppression. He tried looking outside the pod but found that he couldn't see beyond at all.

Where am I? He focused on trying to feel out his body with his senses for any pain but only felt . . . warmth. It was strange, and confusing. Even the headaches he was most likely to receive after receiving such blows to his head from the alien was nowhere to be . . . felt? He wouldn't know much unless he could move.

Damn, could you imagine! He couldn't even move his head! How twisted could that be. One thing was sure though; he was still alive and still breathing.

Even with the suppression, Kyle still shuddered. Two times. Two times, he had experienced coming close to death. And all in a day!

A curious hissing sound sounded from somewhere to his right. Or was it left? He could not really tell. What with this damn pod blocking his perception. It couldn't block the words that followed though.

"E2817 is ready," came a voice. Kyle reckoned it was a scientist or some other technical specialist. The voice belonged.

Just when he was wondering what E2817 probably represents, another voice resounded, this one seeming to come from someone of a noble standard.

"Good," the noble voice said. It was clearly a male. " Bring her out."

Following his order, another hissing sound filtered through Kyle's ears, making him wonder for a second if there were probably giant anacondas somewhere.

There was a long silence before the male's voice sounded again. "Her name? Background?" he asked.

Oh, so E2817 was likely referring to one of the many people from Earth. His eyes turned serious. People like him. If true, perhaps the E stands for Earth?

"Emily Brighton," came the reply. Kyle was forced to focus once more. "She apparently is . . . was still a high school student with a single mother who's now dead."

Kyle had the impression the noble was nodding to process the information. Afterall, that was how nobles behaved, right?

And, from what he could glean, this Emily Brighton clearly had a mother who was now, sadly, late. He had a nagging suspicion on the cause of her death. These aliens sure didn't care about lives. He couldn't help the pity he felt for the poor girl.

"Alright," the firm voice of the noble sounded. "Bind her and bring her with me." The order seemed to be directed at some other person or people.

Kyle then only heard receding footsteps after that. No, wait. There was another sound. Kyle strained his ears and picked up a muttering sound. It was incessant and seemed like just what a mentally deranged person would say. Sometimes, its intensity became high, but at times it was low.

Great, Kyle sighed. He was stuck in a glass pod in a strange place that he felt must surely be an asylum after listening to the muttering. Wait a second. But if this was an asylum, was he also mad? Kyle would have chuckled if not for the suppression. Well, was he to be surprised? If this was really an asylum, it would be a befitting place for his title, Mad Kid.

But he was not mad, that he knew. Then that surely meant that he was not in an asylum. So, that strange muttering was probably coming from the scientist.

Or he could be wrong. Either way, he did not care. All he cared about right now was finding out where he was and what was happening. Listening to the annoyingly hypnotical humming would surely complete the job of doing him in if he remained here much longer.

For minutes, hours? He couldn't know. He just waited, praying for a change in scenery as he decided that he had had more than enough of his fill of the monotonous colour of the shimmering energy and the bleak walls of the pod. So, when he heard the same hissing sound again, accompanied by the weakening of the suppression that held him down, he almost cried in relief.

Ahh . . . How long did it take? . . . Suckers!

******

Emily woke up feeling very dizzy. The white ceiling seemed to be spinning, alternating between coming closer and going farther. She looked around but the only things her vision could register were fuzzy and appeared to have two or more extended duplicates that merged and separated constantly.

She felt weak, extremely weak, and her mind just wasn't obeying her. Her head, she weakly moved her hands to touch it, was hammering noisily, like a lot of blacksmiths were working away discordantly. Even het throat felt parched, making her feel like she could drink a whole water gallon and still want more.

For minutes, she just lay there in whatever soft thing was propping her up, her mind too weak to focus on anything. Eventually though, it cleared and she rose up weakly, her eyes tired as she scanned the place she was in.

Presently, she lay on a soft bed, the mattress white and the walls of the room themselves white also. Practically everything – which was certainly not much – were white. The floor, the single wooden chest that stood at a corner, even the clothes she was wearing. As her eyes roamed the walls, she didn't find a single window or any opening of any kind but the room was still suffused with sufficient light and she sure wasn't suffocating.

Just what was this place exactly. She reckoned it would surely set a standard for the hospital rooms on Earth.

Earth. Her eyes turned wistful. Was she even still on her home planet? She couldn't guarantee for sure and she would not find out about anything if she remained cooped up in this room.

She stood up and almost instantly plopped back down on the bed as her vision spun crazily for some moments before it finally focused. Then, shuffling weakly, she proceeded to what she thought was the entrance – and exit – to the room; a depression on one part of the wall, square in shape and almost the height of the room and wide enough for a single person to pass through.

But as she got closer to the supposed door, she realized that there was no opening mechanism whatsoever. No knobs, no dials, nothing. Not even a key hole of any sort. Her hands scoured fretfully but felt nothing at all that would suggest a way to opening the door.

Almost wailing in frustration, she slid, with her back against the wall, to the floor, hugging her knees with her chin resting on her arms as she silently stared into empty space.

Multiple thoughts ran faster than the speed of light through her head. Was she already captured, a prisoner and this place her prison? What of that man, the man who had captured her? Thinking of the shocking possibility that he could literally shoot explosively powerful beams from his hands almost sent her mind reeling. It overthrew every law of physics and nature she knew. Just what sort of power was that? But . . . But he is a human, isn't he? He sure looked like one. T-Then, if he was a human and was as powerful as that, what about her? Was there also a road to power for her?

Determination filled her gaze. Determination to grow stronger. Determination to make her enemies kneel.

Emily looked around the room again. But first, she needed a more suitable environment.