Test Subject 17

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 s**t. 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. "Dismissed." The kids file out one by one and I hear our shoes hitting the linoleum floor. It sounds like a mini army. The squad goes down different twists and turns of halls until we reach the cafeteria. If you pay attention, some of these rooms have guards hanging outside of them, sworn to protect whatever is inside. Wonder if I can do that one day. I like killing people, don't get me wrong. It's one of the best things ever. The rush of adrenaline as their life drains from their bodies and the light leaves their eyes. Or when I have to resort to my physical strength and I beat them to death with my bare fists. Greatest feeling ever. But lately, it's been kind of boring. They do the same thing again and again and again. Run away, catch them, death. Over and over. Just once, I would like to have something new happen. ~~ After I reach a white door to a room marked with a big 17 on it, I walk in and sit down on my bed, a manila envelope lying on the desk, perfectly placed in the middle. I haven't felt anything since the day they found my ability. Before I knew fear, anger, pain. Now? Nothing. It's been years since I knew what it was like to panic and hurt or be afraid. I hated it. I felt like it made me weaker than everyone else. All I have is some stupid emotion ability. Everyone else has fire, electricity, creation, invisibility. I know someone here who can make up to 3,000 copies of himself before getting drained of energy. They all act and think just like him with an unlimited range. Another girl can mimic anyone she's seen and heard. All I do is control someone's feelings to match my own, or what I want them to. If I can touch them, I can more accurately know what they're feeling and the thoughts that go with the emotion. Very useful in battle right? Honestly, I prefer stealth missions. I can make a whole room feel different things and there's this new development that if I focus enough, I can gather an emotion in the palm of my hand. It works with just about anything, anger, love, fear, trust. Each one has a different color too. That's about the coolest thing I can do. And not for very long. I've been practicing when I'm out mostly because there are cameras everywhere in here. Not sure if they have audio, but no one dares find out. And really, this new thing still has a long way before I can use it. Picking up the envelope, I open the flap and take out the person's file, looking it over. "Who do I murder next?" I mumble under my breath. The photo of the contract stares up at me. Her warm smile, hazel-honey eyes, dark black hair. I feel like I've seen this girl somewhere, but I can't picture it. A smile spreads across my face and my chest starts to feel warm and fuzzy. I shake my head to remove the smile and feeling and start looking down at her information. She lives alone, has two siblings who disappeared years ago, her parents are AWOL, and she also has an ability. Typical. Taking out the others like us so no one can rebel. She also had a friend years ago as well that was killed during a home invasion. He was found dead in the backyard. Images flash in my head and I groan. A lady and man lying on a snow-white couch, blood pouring from holes in their brains. A little girl running for her life. Another man smiling down at me as he holds up a syringe. I hold my head in pain as the random pictures leave. What the hell was that?! It feels like a layer of the fog in my brain has been lifted, only for the others to become denser. I look at her file again, but it gives no specifics as usual. But there was one thing that stuck out. At the bottom of the page was writing in red ink: KILL AS SOON AS POSSIBLE. Interesting...wonder what's the rush. Normally, I try not to think about my life before, but there's something about this girl that's tugging my brain. So close I can almost see it, but whatever it is, is so distant that it's stuck in the back of my mind. I push it away and scan for her schedule. She leaves work at eight and gets home twenty minutes after and goes to sleep at around nine. Meaning I have a bit of time to get in, kill her, and get out. Sounds simple enough. I look at the clock on the dreary gray wall. It's 8:05. I'm the only one with a clock as far as I know. The farther up in the rankings you are, the more perks you get. Which is their way of saying, the less they hound you for certain things. Sighing, I lay down on the rock-hard mattress beneath me. It's supposed to make us uncomfortable enough to keep us alert 24/7. However, it doesn't bother me much to everyone's surprise. The Superiors have tried everything to keep me like the others. Alone and alert. But that's the thing. They don't need to. The more my ability grows, the more everything fades. It's like I'm being turned into a killer robot. I'm alone enough as it is. There's a knock at my door as Subject 13 enters. The sandy blonde boy looks at me and I motion him to walk further into the room. He does so and closes the door. 13 has a dusting of freckles over his nose, and sea green eyes with the same grey outfit I wear. A light grey tee with a darker shade of grey pants and black shoes. His lanky arms protrude from the sleeves of the shirt while his legs are concealed by the one-size-too-big pants. "Warden is looking for you man. He sounds pretty pissed," 13 says. I groan. What could this jerk possibly want now? I haven't done anything in the past 7 years to be called. "What the hell does he want now?" Sitting up, something washes over me and I knit my eyebrows. A faint and fuzzy memory of a little girl finds me. But she's different from the one before. The girl has beach blonde curly hair, her skin is pretty pale and she has deep, dark brown eyes. Really pretty honestly. An emotion I've never felt sweeps over me. "You alright? Normally you're all.. cold-hearted and stone-faced. Now you look...confused." I shake my head and stand to my six feet three inches. 13 takes a small step backwards. "It's nothing. Where is he?" 13 shrugs. A slight grin on his face. I'm surprised he's lasted this long. One thing that seldom escapes this place is a sense of humor. That's one of the first things they break. "Dunno. He was storming about the cafeteria last I saw him." "Alright. Thanks 13." He grins wider, patting my shoulder. I stare at his hand and he promptly removes it. "You'd do the same right?" My stare is blank and cold. He looks back at me before catching on and walking out. I look back at the file spread across my bed and walk out after him.