more or less plotted starter for @warprotocol
Today was finally the day. After all those years of training and torture and fighting, today Genesis would finally get his reward. Here down in Deepground every day was survival of the fittest and even though the young one had not understood it why the people in white coats were calling him a failure and eager to make him bleed, he simply decided that he would not give up and die. He would fight. He would fight and survive and one day he would be strong enough to be allowed to go to the outside world and kill and spill the blood of those the organization and their superiors deemed useless. He only had to endure. And he did. If they wanted to turn him into a monster he would succeed and become the deadliest creature they had ever seen.
Now he stood in front of the whitecoat that had been in charge of his training and development ever since Genesis had arrived at Deepground at a young age, the very man that had been responsible of countless sessions of being strapped to a table and screaming his lungs out while being cut open again and again. Marcus was his name, and Genesis had never seen a crueler smile than the one on this man’s face. But today he seemed almost proud when he looked at Genesis.
Genesis kept quiet as Marcus examined him with his eyes. Now that he was about to leave Deepground he had been allowed to exchange his dirty white uniform against a black sweater and a comfortable pair of black trousers, and on top of that he had received a beautiful red leather coat as a gift or rather as a reminder of what would be taken away from Genesis should he fail now. His trademark weapon, a red rapier, was strapped to his back, and his hands were tied in front of him to prevent him from attacking anyone after they left the facility, he was nothing more than a weapon after all.
“One of Shinra’s executives requested an assistant that would make no fuss about carrying out orders others would refuse. In other words, he wants you to do his dirty work for him. I assume torturing and killing will be among those orders”, Marcus explained to him as they stepped into the elevator that would take them right to Shinra’s headquarters.
“This is our chance to prove that our work here in Deepground matters just as much as everything they put into the official SOLDIER program. You won’t mess this up and disappoint me, right, Genesis?”
Marcus smiled at him, but Genesis knew that this smile was nothing more than a threat in disguise, so he simply shook his head in response, no words needed.
When they finally made their way through the long corridors of the headquarters Genesis didn’t get a chance to look around despite his curiosity and fascination for a world he never got to experience before. And when he was finally presented to the man he was supposed to work for now, Genesis could only stare for a moment.
The man before him was tall, very tall, dark-haired and wore a very mean looking smile on his face. There was a dangerous aura about him, one that expressed dominance and control, but also unmistakable competence. A SOLDIER? Genesis wasn’t sure, but this first impression was very impressive nevertheless.
“Go on. Introduce yourself”, Marcus then urged him on, already looking at him with impatience.
“It is an honor to meet you, Sir. My name is Genesis.” The red-haired man slightly bowed his head, but then his curiosity got the better of him and he added: “Who are you?” It felt almost like a desperate need to learn more about the man, but before the man in question could even reply, Marcus already moved.
He kicked his red-headed subordinate in the back of his knees, making him fall to his knees in front of the tall man, grabbing a fistful of his hair to yank his head back enough to hiss into his ear: “You do not ask unnecessary questions. I thought I raised you better than that.”
With that he let go of Genesis’ hair to apologise to the dark-haired executive, meanwhile Genesis bowed his head and kept his eyes on the ground, awaiting either punishment or his first order from the man that was now in charge of him, tied up hands clenched into shaking fists.
