Survivor: No River Runs Here (Chapter 1, Part 2)
Tuesday, February 28, 2012

C1P2 A look into the brutality of the Academy- our subject meets the other students.


Survivor: No River Runs Here (Chapter 1, Part 2)

Table of Contents
Survivor: Introduction Survivor: Chapter 1 Part 1 Survivor: Chapter 1 Part 2 Survivor: Chapter 1 Part 3 Survivor: Chapter 1 Part 4

Disclaimer: I by all means necessary am clearly rolling in dough because of this Fan Fiction- as a matter of fact I am earning so much from it that I intend to buy the rights to Firefly off of Fox just so that I will never have to type this again. No but on a more serious note I do not own nor do I intend to reap monetary reward from the use of any characters/objects/other copyrighted stuff displayed within the Firefly series! Quote: You are Subject 501- and that is what you are Summary: A look into the brutality of the Academy- our subject meets the other students.

Step by step my bare feet find the chilling floor, I attempt to float above it- my heel strike awkward as my feet fear the cold- leaping with each step. The metal clangs against my heel with each leap- the floor is warmer than winter- but doesn't hold the same cuddling feel that blades of grass do- and so my heel is punished with each step I take. My ears share equally in the displeasure- my heel striking the ground with such force that I would swear I was made of lead. Behind me I hear the strike of drums- boots against the ground- two sentinels- as I follow the odd man to whatever my path bears. I slow down slightly- my feet already tire- and are wanting of rest- but the guards strike me as I slow- hustling me along as if I were a captured animal. I look back at the guard who struck me- he is tall- possessing at least a foot of leverage over me and countless pounds- yet my instinct tells me to strike him back- and to run. But run where? I have seen no exits- no openings- nothing to hint at a possible escape from this facility. The Hallways of this 'Academy' seem to always serpentine around in a coil fashion, it is nerving to the mind when one is always seemingly traveling in a circle- as the mind perhaps cannot anticipate its true direction. I can hear the sound of children ahead- their laughs- or perhaps screams bounce along the metal walls- and yet there are a mixed bag of emotions- there is not date on these puzzling sounds- as if they are playing from the past. The hallways are barren as the metal entrapment- absent of personality to keep them interesting- and so I delve within my mind- so fearful of my situation that my own mind still seems shattered. The endless sitcom plays on. My mind strikes upon itself- questions its founding- perhaps it is my mind and not the institution that should be in question? By what nature am I lead to believe that I have ever lived elsewhere beyond this facility? Perhaps my mind's recollections are the ones that lie- and instead it is the facility which I hold true to, but no- this facility holds an eerie feeling, and my feet do not recollect the coldness of the metal that they are now forced to stroke. Fear seizes me- but I oppress it- I must not give it the right to rule over me- fear ruins clarity- clarity I will need to escape this place. But I am not entirely strong enough to hold off the fear- it is bigger than me- and it engulfs my heart. I notice a faint ray of sunlight coming through a small ceiling window- the ray of light bounces off the walls- but it too like I am unable to figure out how to escape- but the light reveals some truth- that the way out is up. Finally we find our way to a large auditorium of sorts- I had not been entirely focused on the route here- and now feel stupid for having trailed off into thought during the march. This area is large- the ceiling at least 30 feet above my head, table after table are lined up in rows- and it too holds to the austere nature of the facility. It is as if I have been brought to an unending labyrinth made of solid steel- no exit- no escape. There are children seated within the auditorium- their noise must have been the sounds I had heard earlier. They only take up two tables of maybe 30 that are in the auditorium- I rummage as to why so few are here. "Your seat is this way" the odd man; perhaps a scientist, gestured towards an open seat along the farthest of the occupied tables- his voice showing that he was not asking- he was telling. I nearly miss his meaning- I am once again too deep in thought to be truly aware of my surroundings- and yet I must be vigilant at this moment- so much will be determined and answered- my destiny among the answers. At the particular table sat a total of 13 others, all roughly my age from what I could tell- the class in all was probably only 27 large. As I walked up to the table I could not help but notice how all of the other kids seemed excited to come here- their faces filled with excitement and their inaudible voices supporting this theory that they were all happy to be in this metal entrapment. The rest of the kids were all intently listening on to one kid's story it seemed- though I only caught the end of it. The boy who was telling it was no more than 2 inches taller than myself- I estimate being perhaps standing at 5'2- but he is chubby- fat even. He had full cheeks and chins to go with shorter arms and equally stubby legs. He wore glasses- but held on him a look of confidence- as if he had already earned his place within society. "Yes- I assure you that I only submitted 3 applications to get here-as hard as that may be too conceive! Of course my dad owns the largest company on all of Londinium- and he says I will inherit-" the boy abruptly stopped upon noticing my arrival. "Hi my name is Gloucester- well that's the last name anyways- I'm sure you've heard of it- my first name is Arthur, but you can call me Gloucester-" he said as he extended out his left hand grabbing mine- this is a repugnant attempt to welcome me however- as though my knowledge of customs is limited- I do recall the use of the left hand as an insult when extending or saluting- this is the one custom that I have knowledge of. "You know your hand is quite coarse- what profession does your father work- perhaps you are the owner of a mine? How many times have you applied here? Wait How rude of me! What is your name?" My mind replays the episodes it holds dear- and yet my part in the sitcom within my mind is not entirely revealed- however the circumstances of which I formally existed are all too clear- and through this it becomes apparent that I am not belonging of this facility. My dream- the fields- is the revelation my mind needs to clear away the shock that has clouded the obvious from me. I respond meekly- aware that everyone around me was evidently of much higher social standing- than I am. "I am no more than a farm aid..... And I actually don't recall ever applying here-" to my surprise upon searching my memory I couldn't seem to recall much at all, it was like there was a cloud or veil over parts of my memory. "-and if I did I guess this would certainly be my first time--" He cut me off. "Ah! So your father owns a large plantation-- he must have submitted the applications for you! Good Sir I must know what is his name- or rather what is his companies name is?" Arthur said, obviously missing my point- or rather denying the possibility of it. Color spreads on my face- the warm blood rushing towards my cheeks- I am embarrassed- what I must say is a dishonor to me "I do not recall a father- at all. Nor do I own anything to my knowledge- I believe that I am of a more simple purpose than you have acknowledged so far." "So you graduated school early! While at a foster parents house? Why what did--" Arthur started- he had ignored my previous statement. I had already had enough of it- I was tired of talking in shades. "School- no I have no recollection of a school- or the home of which you speak of." I nearly asked him as to the nature of the two establishments he had asked me about- as they did not register well within my mind. Arthur had a look of disbelief, but it quickly turned to a look of humor- "Surely sir you are a joker! Why what a jester we have in our-" he managed to spew out in-between chuckles, before he noticed the sullen look I had on my face. All of a sudden his look of cheer turned to a look of disgust. "Shén, what is a street rat doing among us!" The other students laughed. I heard footsteps from behind- and turned to meet them- I do not trust this place- but the source of the words meets me before I can complete my turn. "Ah- yes you must be the one the Headmaster had spoke of..... The Headmaster wishes to speak to you about right now." A calm- monotone voice said from behind. A hand firmly gripped my shoulder lifting me up-wards and then pulling me away from the table. He pushed me onward- refusing me the privilege of looking at him- he was strong- unimaginably strong, the force of his hand against my shoulder hurt. Though the pain hardly is of concern to me- my sudden moving- traveling more a concern. "You should learn to hold your tongue- it is a more civilized approach to disgracing yourself." The man insisted as he shoved me forward his voice dry. Once again I was in the maze of the twisting halls. The cold ground begrudged my feet- and so my step became awkward- I trip a little with each bemoaning step. My odyssey had just begun. "You will grow used to it 501." What is 501? On my clothes that number is branded- my mind figures that it must be me that he is talking about. But my mind does not feel comfortable with the suggestion that I am 501- something is betraying about the attribution of such statistics to me. My mind wanders faster than my feet- where am I being taken? We reach a capsule of sorts- another metal box- but this one smaller, much smaller, than my room. I am shoved into it- darkness envelopes me- all that I can see is a lit tablet of which my escort is ordering about. Then the capsule shoots off- fast and forceful, I nearly lose my balance once again. This is the stage of voyage in my odyssey perhaps? My mind flutters with anxiety- questions, memories, fear crowd my mind- I am but an orange tree attempting to bud in the desert- and so my thoughts go unanswered. The capsule opens again and in my dizziness I find myself in a new location- for the second time today my mind is shocked with awe. I find myself in a new corridor it seems- this one as barren as the last- comprising of a long narrow hall way lined with doors- and possessing of several connected hallways. Curiosity strikes my mind- what were these rooms? Before I can ponder it much I feel a strong shove along my right shoulder- it is my mysterious escort shoving me out of the capsule. Before I can look onto his face my escort once again grabbed me by the shoulder and hustled me onward towards the end of the hallway- I notice he wears a blue glove- odd to wear gloves in such a neutral environment. He hustles me onward- and I am unable to get a good look into any of the other rooms. I am barely to keep my pace. I feel a strong tug and am shoved into a left turn- why are we in such a hurry- why be so brutal? I turn to question my escort but he once again pitches me- this turn to the right- I am facing a door. This door is similar to the one connected to the metal box where I awoke- as it has no noticeable way to enter- no keypad- no handle; however unlike my door it does not even possess a slot of sorts- none but a keyhole. The escort spoke words- "Mr. Oscar" and the door slides open. It seems that this room is more a office than an extension of the metal labyrinth- the Academy. The room is relatively empty- sporting only a large oak desk in the center and two metal storage compartments along the back right side of the room, the walls are however not so barren as the rest of the room laden with exquisite pieces of art. I step forward- my eyes looking for a window and my mind an explanation to my being here- but it is my feet that receive the greatest reception. The floor of this- office is clothed with a carpet that mimics the coloring of my clothing. At the center of the room behind the large oak desk sat a man of average height and stature- he is likely in his later 40's or early 50's- and is absolutely average by every means of appearance for a white male. He is so strikingly average that perhaps he is not even average- then again what is average? He is focused intently on nothing- as far as I can see he is reading- rather pretending to read- he has expected us. Perhaps we are late- that is why I was so hurried? "Good morning Mr. Oscar- you are early." says the average man in the center of the room- his voice is dry yet I sense that he is more excited than he is letting on. He stops pretending to focus on the nothingness that he was focused on before- but still peers downward- he now is looking at his desk tablet. "Thank you- sir- 501 is here as you requested- as you would expect he is afflicted with some amnesia." my escort- apparently called Mr. Oscar said- his voice is and has held the same monotone ring to it- his voice is scarce- void of all emotion even now. Amnesia; my mind is unfamiliar with this term- perhaps it has to do with my mind. "Ah yes- the anomic aphasia- yes thank you. Mr. Oscar you are excused- Subject 501 and I have much to discuss" A small smile lay on the average man's face. The pressure on my shoulder lets up- and though I turn as quickly as possible my escort no longer lingers behind me- he has evaded my eyes once again. "Welcome.... Subject 501." The average man said- not even looking up to see me. "501?" I ask myself more than I ask the average man. I am the only one in the room- so this calling- an individual label answers a question- but still my mind rejects the possibility of it- it claims homage to something it has forgotten. "Hold still- I noticed you haven't had all of your immunizations." The man said- not even acknowledging my question. The average man reached within his drawer and withdrew a injector- I sense something is off- the injector is not labeled. My inquiry is to late- and he administers the shot before my actions can catch up with my mind. "We call all of our students by their subject number- this is a highly competitive school and many of our students go on to become powerful members of society- so we protect their identity by listing them only by a code. Now I am sure that you have some questions for me-" His voiced fades behind a loud scream.... not a normal one- it is more a feeling than a sound- and it is in its purest form pain. The scream spreads from my head down my neck- I now struggle to breath. My ears cannot take it- and so I cover them with my hands to relieve them- but to no avail- the scream only spreads faster- making its way down my chest cavity- the scream now fills the room- my knees start to buckle under the pressure of the scream. I cough up a sticky red liquid substance. The Scream accelerates- my legs give out beneath me and in my stumbling about I knock over a trey or two from the average man's desk. No longer was the scream just a feeling- or a hint- now it was possessing my very soul- pain lived within me- it was more than a feeling- it was misery at the core- an experience so intense that every part of my body cried out at once for relief. My legs can no longer resist the scream- the pain- the misery- a lifetime of each bottled into one voice it seems- and I fall to my knees- no more in control of my body than my destiny- I vomit. More red liquid comes up. The man looked up- a smile peered on his face. "Good- Good! What do you hear?" he said eagerly- as if a child admiring a candy shop. "Pa-in... I hear misery... Help please- stop it. Oh god- please" I vomit once again- unable to handle it- I attempt to crawl towards him; my begging apparent, tears flow down my face- there is no resisting. The average man grabs another injector- and upon arriving to where I crawl injects me once again. The scream disappears- and my body slowly starts to regain its form- but it is fatigued- and is filled with rage. No it is too tired for rage- it is filled with fear. "You are indeed special Subject 501. No other subject- I mean student- has ever shown that strong a reaction to the test- you are a good investment." My mind is shaken by his words and actions- he names me a number and then continues to talk about me as if I were real estate.... My knees quiver a tad- but I stand up- my voice escapes my mouth "What am I doing here? How did I get here? Wha-" The man chuckled- interrupting me "I forgot to introduce myself- I am the Headmaster of the school, this is the Academy. You are here because you possess the most incredible of talents." He turns away and makes a gesture on his tablet- the door opens and two guards walk into the office. He signals for them to take me- already. My mind is still confused- it is in peril- why hurry me into a meeting- tease me by inviting questions- torture me with a scream- and then dismiss me? Had he no intention of answering me at all? The guards grab me by my shoulders and start to lead me out of the office- but no I must ask- must know a question- the one that has haunted me. "Wait-please! What- who am I?" My Voice reaches out- my mind on the bend of panic- this is something that my mind craves- it s the question that has bothered my mind more than any other. "You are Subject 501- and that is what you are." the Headmaster said- his back facing me, but I heard- or sensed a irregularity within him- as if he was pleased. The guards tug me away- the door slides closed- and I am now a number.


Tuesday, February 28, 2012 3:21 PM


Penquin(1-0) vs Dialogue (0-1)
Round 2
You Decide who wins!

OK guys- be fair but brutal in your treatment of this. I am still getting used to dialogue and it's role in characterization- so please leave any advice you deem necessary.

Thursday, March 1, 2012 9:25 AM


Anyone there?

Wednesday, March 28, 2012 9:05 AM


Added a table of contents!


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Survivor: No River Runs Here (Chapter 1, Part 4)
C1P4 Explore the brutality of the Academy

Survivor: No River Runs Here (Chapter 1, Part 3)
C1P3 501 has his first day of classes. A meeting between powerful men. And the dive into the horror of the Academy continues.

Survivor: No River Runs Here (Chapter 1, Part 2)
C1P2 A look into the brutality of the Academy- our subject meets the other students.

Survivor: No River Runs Here (Chapter 1, Part 1)
C1P1 The brutal world of the Academy awaits.

Survivor: Introduction
SIntro This work will try to explore the brutal world of the Academy- get ready for insanity.