Final Experiment ?

20

“- and I swear, little dude, that yesterday there were someones nails in the tasteless soup they gave me. If I find that person who's messing with my food, I'll just ma- hey, what are you staring? Are you showing signs of life? That's a progress.” I tilted my head, wondering why was he smirking. What's his reason to be happy?

“oh, I know right? I'm quite ripped.” he pulled some odd pose, flexing his arm muscles when suddenly he grimaced and dropped his arms, shaking them as if he got burned. “nope, nope, nope! Not a good idea! Stitches starting to reopen, ouch ouch, someone get me a medic here! I'm dying!” the silver haired man dramatised even thought I couldn't understand how was he dying? The small stitches on his shoulder was lightly bleeding, but that was about it.

I turned the water off, trying to get to my clothes and away from the odd man as fast and far as possible. I kept my distance, trying to dry off my hair. It was quite difficult as my shoulders were very painful and my fingers stiff and shaky due to throbbing pain and cold water. I could feel the cold pain running in my veins, making me even more tired.

I noticed the man stepping closer and instinctively I backed away, glaring at him. He hadn't bothered me before, but my space was just that, my space.
The silver haired man who had been dressed for quite sometime already froze on his steps as he noticed my dislike. He raised his arms as a sign of peace, his right arm slightly lower because of the stitches. “uh, sorry, just thought I'd help you. But hey, you're still showing signs of life! Anyways, the walking dead are coming so, I suggest you dress fast unless you want them to drag you out of here stark naked. Which would be funny, all these stoic looking people-- wait, it would actually be perverted. Oh, gross, get dressed kid.” He turned back to his pile of sweaty training clothes and pulled out the white, clean shirt. He swiftly pulled it over his head and over the stitches that had stopped bleeding.

Keeping my eyes on him, I got dressed myself. Annoyed when I had to wear the same white trousers I had always wore. I was almost missing the agent attire, at least it was comfortable.

As I was slowly pulling the shirt that matched Pietros over my head, I heard the creaking of door. The two guards marched in, stopping when the silver haired guy held up his hands. “hey now, friends, give me a sec, the little dudes hair is dripping wet and these cells are as cold as your hearts. So, let me dry it off and then we can all go and play home.” the guards didn't even blink as Pietro turned to me. “Alright, I know you're in this emo phase right now, but we gotta get you out of that sulking emotional cell. Sorry not sorry.”

With a whoosh of air, Pietro was suddenly standing right next to me and holding the same towel he had dried himself earlier. Before I could punch him, he was rubbing my hair into the towel, trying to get it as dry as possible. It was horrible experience. As I was about to grab his throat I was only met with thin air. Somehow he was back on his spot couple of meters away from me, standing there if nothing ever happened. All that within couple of seconds.

I glared up at the older guy, wishing I could rip his eyes off just to get this smirk off his face. “alrighty, we're done here! You, slavery guards, what are you still doing standing there? Shouldn't we be back in our hotel suits already? I'm starting to think you guys are slow.” one of the guards grunted and snapped a glowing blue bracelet around Pietros wrist. I could vaguely sense his sadness, but he hid it well.

I didn't react as my new collar was snapped around my neck. This one felt heavier and smaller. “You see, that was not nice. He doesn't look like a dog to me.”

what's a dog?

As we left the showers, I caught a climpse of myself from the small mirror. My dark hair was sticking up in every odd angle, making me look as if I had spikes in my hair.