A Third Watch

[gh0st]

A Third Watch: Nova Prospekt [Prologue]

Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad, what they’d do to me. Would it be quick? Slow? Time has no place here, so who was I to judge? My temples coursed red, the white powder they put on it now caramelized to charred flesh, a stink wafting from all rooms of the hallway, a dank, dark, ladder to a much delayed afterlife – something I hoped would come all too soon. A massive steel door opened with a staccato report, letting in the uncaring light from the out of doors. For some time it seemed as though nothing happened, as with sleep came darkness now with death would come with the light. I tried to shut my eyes, but the bright light remained, penetrating me to the marrow, leaving me crying, wishing my eyes could close; yet they could not. A familiar, lonely taste came to mind, that of salt. Tears had coursed down my cheeks, coming to rest in my half open mouth, leaving the unpleasant taste. The big door closed with a thud, and what remained was a sight I had become all-to familiar with over the past weeks. Or was it months?​

The figure looked at me, or perhaps past me, my eyes were attempting to adjust to the dark, yet I found they could not, and the white image remained, punctuated by a dark silhouette of a soldier, armed only with a club. I saw that silhouette, and the glowing baton surged into focus. The impact came to bear on my chin, leaving in its wake the cracking of bone. The shadow grunted an indignant laugh, and with it came the realization that the whiteness had disappeared, and I now saw nothing but sleepy darkness, and tasted only blood.​

My head pounded, throbbed, pulsed, with pain. I could see now, a welcome relief from looking but seeing nothing. The pain of feeling your eyes moving in their sockets, falling into focus only on sounds is undescribable, and the feeling of powerlessness is unbearable. I remembered my jaw, and apprehensively gave it a poke. I waited for pain to reach my brain, but it never did. It was irrelevant, of course, anyways. My eye’s moved rigidly, awkwardly, but my neck refused to budge. My moist, and very cold cell, an industrial holding pen, confined my body, but already my mind raced with possible escapes. My benefactors had trained me well, and the walls of this archaic remnant of the human institution of justice, prison for body and mind, would soon crumble.​

The idea of this post is to preface a story that I will be creating regarding halflife 2. I'm aware its pretty short, It's mostly to see your reactions. Should I continue?