Stories from the Sigmaverse/Start of Darkness

{|style="width:100%; color:#FFF;"
 * valign="top" style="padding:5px;"|

"Doctor Roe, we're closing down bay five for the night, is there anything you need?"

"No Sergeant, that will be all."

"Got it, closing Bay five, subjects are locked up tight."

The Sergeant watched the metal grille slide down before moving on to the next one. He yawned, more from boredom than tiredness. Since Roe and the other labcoats had brought those kids back from the Hopeful, things had been quiet around the base. Some of the others were even looking forward to getting back to 'war games' with the young recruits, if only for a chance to beat the little bastards. Another Marine rounded the corner, a shock baton hanging from his belt.

"Locking 'em up for the night, Sarge?"

"Yeah, just got bay four to go, that's where they're keeping the kids while they recover."

"The freaks, you mean?"

"Don't call 'em that. Poor bastards didn't have any choice about this."

"Heh, neither did we. All this classified shit for nine goddamned years, man."

"Mack said we'd be reassigned soon, Brooks, so stow the bellyaching for now."

"Yeah, I hear ya, sir."

The two Marines strode down the brightly lit corridor at a steady pace, heading for the entrance to Bay Four. None of the soldiers on site liked going in there. It was where the 'recruits' lived. Dozens of broken limbs and humiliations on mock battlefields had brought most of Whiskey Company to despise the children. Before the Sergeant could reach for the lockdown button, two figures darted out from the corridor, stopping before them.

"Sergeant Reed," spoke a brown-haired man, towering over the Marine. "Locking up for the night?"

Reed glanced at the number on the trainee's shirt. They were forbidden to call them by their names. "You know the rules, 85. Lights out at nine, get back to your barracks."

"We're not going back, Sergeant. Let us pass."

Reed frowned, one hand instinctively reaching for his shock baton. They never disobeyed orders outside of combat training. Trainee 126 was with 085, leaning casually on a nearby wall. A chill crept up the man's spine as a sudden feeling of danger crept into him.

"085, 126, I order you to-"

It was over before he could react. 085 moved in a flash, and had him pinned to the wall with one arm. Brooks had been kicked across the room by 126 and lay comatose on the floor. Looking at the man before him, Reed could see marks across his forearms and neck. What the hell did they do to you? Smirking at the unconscious guard, 085 turned to face the Sergeant, smiling.

"Still calling us by numbers, eh Sarge?" He leant in close, smiling. "My name is Jack."

Then everything went dark.