You were not sure what the hell had happened.
One minute you were fighting mutants, another you'd been attacked by your own team, your own sisters. Then... that's all you remembered.
Your eyes nearly refused to open.
Was this death?
Did you just accept it?
It was dim on the other side of your eyelids, you assumed, but your brain was so scrambled you wanted to get sick.
You forced your eyes open, blinking about half a billion times to get them to focus. They hurt. Dry, unfocused, stinging and throbbing. A noise between a grunt and hiss escaped you as you tried to suck in a breath, and you fought the urge to scream.
The noise rippled past your dry and sore throat, a feeling similar to a wound reopening lighting you on fire.
Your vision blurry, you tried to move a very heavy hand to reach your throat, but paused at just how much pain was shooting through you.
It was probably the worst pain you'd ever experienced, even with years of torture, training, and painful activity under your belt.
You could feel tears trying to surface as you tried your best to look around while laid down. This place you were at was definitely not anywhere you recognized. A large room, no windows, strong hold. A giant heavy door was to the far side. There was an armored vehicle, lots of gadgets, lots of chemicals from the looks of it. Blueprints, scattered papers, and half finished piles of items laid scattered about and made the room messy.
Had you been kidnapped?
Would whoever it was torture you?
Experiment on you?
You'd trained for this, and even when your expression remained closed off, your heartbeat picked up.
Adrenaline was one hell of a drug. Many called it a miracle worker, because adrenaline was the very thing that managed to make the impossible sometimes possible with no way of knowing how or why.
You're not exactly sure how you managed it, but you forced your body to sit upright, groaning the entire motion, but looking at your surroundings.
Wherever you were, no one was here.
Now examining your current situation, you were in clothing that wasn't like anything you'd ever worn before. The tshirt was grey, long enough to meet over the bottom of your shorts which were extremely lose and a light fabric you'd never felt before. There was an odd picture on the front of the shirt, some letters in a language you didn't understand. You wondered where they came from.
You no longer had your armored bra on, and when you felt your chest to be sure it was gone, you felt violated. Because the tshirt sleeves were big, you pulled it up your shoulder to look at stitches. They were keeping your skin together, the gash made had been deep.
Oh yeah, the sword.
You felt unable to move around, but gritted your teeth and did so anyways. Where ever you were wasn't safe. You had to take out everyone. You had to escape.
Grabbing the nearest sharp object, which happened to be a surgical knife, you gripped it ready to attack. You looked for a door, found it, and crept up to it. Taking a couple of deep breaths, you cracked it just enough to peep the outside. It looked to be a living area. There was an area to sit, and a small box on a stand (tv). Yet no one was present. Poking your head out, you viewed the way to all the different rooms. The place had been a lot bigger and a lot less occupied than you'd expected.
