**unedited**

CHAPTER FIVE

HE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT'S happening to him. His thoughts are muddled with an incoherent strings of violent words. His body aches all over yet his mouth waters every time he catches the whiff of an employee walking past his cell. He can pick out single heartbeats now. He understands each of them beat to a different tune. Some are quicker and some are slower, but the ones that beat just right send chills down his spine.

He needs one of them.

No, he doesn't.

He needs to feed.

No, he doesn't.

He needs to feel the crush of a skull beneath his hands--no, he doesn't.

An endless battle rages in his mind, causing his head to constantly pound. He feels like it may burst any moment. He needs to make the pain stop. He doesn't know how. He grips his head as if that may help. It doesn't.

His pain pauses long enough for him to hear Master's heartbeat, his footsteps right outside. He hates that heartbeat. He hates the constant, overwhelming scent of rosemary that clings to Master. The moment he manages to get rid of the sound and smell, Master returns and so does the torment. The taunts. The pressure.

Sometimes his head is clear but most times it isn't. It steadily gets worse as the days drag on, however many that may be. He doesn't sleep but he doesn't need to. All he does is train, feed, kill, train, feed, kill. His latest victim is still slouched in the corner of his cell, leaking a putrid smell that makes his hypersensitive nose burn. He tried clawing the body to bits in hopes of diminishing that horrid aroma, but to no avail did it fade.

The many, many locks on his cell door click and crank and turn. He remains on his knees, arms extended outwards due to the shackles cemented into the wall. He could break them. He already did once. But the punishments are much crueler when he disobeys, and he doesn't want to pain to intensify anymore than it already has. He knows he's smarter than all of these pathetic workers combined--he just needs to bide his time strategically.

Three men help Master push the massive steel door to the side, then there's an extra fence laced with thorns they have to carefully remove. He watches them as he always does with cold, dead eyes and a racing mind they thankfully can see into. He drops from his knees to sit cross-legged, the cuffs around his ankles hardly complying. It takes him a moment to situate the chains and position himself just right to be comfortable.

Master offers the same placid smile as he does for every visit, and it naturally makes the experiment tilt his chin up in defiance. "Good afternoon, 748."

The experiment frowns.

Is that his name?

It feels wrong in his thoughts.

"I see you had an appetizing dinner," Master remarks, nodding to the torn-up meat in the corner. He snaps his fingers and the same three men immediately begin cleaning up. "Maybe we should teach you some table manners. It really is a hassle always cleaning up after you."

The experiment continues to blankly stare up at him.

Master claps his hands. "Right then. Shall we send you down for training? It's important you keep your physique up. Our moment is coming, but we must be patient and prepared."

One of the men cleaning accidentally knocks a chain restraining the experiment's left arm, and a low growl rumbles in his throat. The man pales and scurries to the other side, well aware that even that is not a safe distance.

Master grins. "You seem a bit tense today, 748. Let's head down. I can't wait to watch a success at its finest."

Two people who share vibrant red eyes come in, the experiment's usual escorts. On a good day, one told him they were once friends and were known for being the strongest of the army. The experiment didn't understand that. Friends? Army? All he knows is train, feed, kill, train feed, kill.

That's all he needs to know.

For Master continues to say he has an extraordinary future ahead of him.

***

Later that night, a memory creeps into his dreams. He hasn't had any memories since he'd been injected with that unholy liquid Master conjured up, so it's a bit of a surprise when the reality of the past event hits him. He's grateful for it--it brings him back to his sanity, if only for a little while.

Edward had just gotten Penelope into bed when a three loud knocks on the front door cause his instincts to kick in. He grabs the baseball bat that has now become a precious possession of his, and slowly walks down the hall. His mother is standing in the dark living room with wide, scared eyes, waiting for her son to make the first move. Ever since the first attack weeks ago, Edward has been the sole guardian of his mother and sister since his father is no longer around to do so.

Three more knocks sound almost angry as the wood creaks beneath the weight of whoever's fist.

As if the person outside knows the people inside are hesitant to answer the door, a man's voice shouts, "Maureen Sullivan, this is Federal Organization of Human Studies inquiring about about your son Edward. We would only like to discuss a few things with you. Please open the door and allow us inside."

Edward frowns deeply, now looking to his mother to make the first move. She frowns just as confused yet reluctantly pulls open the door, leaving the latch on so there's only a crack of view. "What is your business here at this hour?" his mother questions, sounding as fierce as she used to be when she ran her own business. Her business that had been blown to smithereens during the worst bombing attack in the beginning of the war.

"Ma'am, we have a proposition we believe you'll be interested in hearing. However, we would like to get off the streets before spotted by gangs."

"I have no interest in hearing--"

A large man pushes the door opening, forcing Edward's mother to stumble back. He steps up. "What the hell are you doing?" he snaps, grabbing the door before it can be shoved open entirely.

There's four men, and the one in the front steps forward. "Edward, we believe you can help us stop the war and save the world. Please, allow us inside," he says, flashing his fancy gold badge simultaneously.

Edward narrows his eyes, studying the men. His mother sets a hand on his arm and tells him gently to step aside. Clenching his jaw, Edward abides and permits the men into their living room. His mother offers them to sit in the small living room to which they all oblige. Edward closes the door and stands near it, clutching the handle of his baseball bat tightly.

"You won't need that, boy," a second man says almost in amusement. "We intend to do no harm."

"Forgive me if I don't take your word for it," Edward grumbles, glaring at the buff man who had nearly broke the door off its hinges.

"Is this a military draft?" his mother asks in a quiet tone, seeming none to thrilled with the idea of sending her son off to combat.

"Of sorts," the first man says. "Oh, pardon my manners. I'm Doctor Harvey Stevens, founder of FOHS."

His mother cautiously shakes the man's hand. "What do you want with my son?"

The doctor clears his throat and leans forward on the couch. "You see, Mrs. Sullivan, as a doctor and upcoming scientist, I'm always looking for a way to prevent destruction. This war was bound to happen, and we were unprepared for it. Now, however, I've devised a plan I believe will work once executed. Your son plays a great role in my plan.

"I've been trying to find the perfect participants to work with. When coming across your son's file, his mental and physical health is impeccable. I want your son to be a soldier in the United States Special Forces military unit. I can prepare him expertly for combat and guarantee his well being. I--"

"No," his mother blurts, sitting up straighter and lifting her chin. "My son will not fight in the war. That is a definite."

The doctor chuckles unsurely. "Ma'am, your son will not be in any danger. My plan guarantees his life and--"

"I said no," she says, pushing to her feet. "Please leave."

The doctor calmly stands. "I'm afraid I can't do that."

Edward steps towards them. "Listen, old man, you wanted a discussion and you got one. Don't make things difficult."

The elder man acts as if he's contemplating his options, pursing his lips and clasping his hands behind him. Then he sighs and shakes his head. "I'm sorry, but I really must insist." He nods to his men, two of them lunging to grab Edward.

Edward manages to swing his bat into one of their faces, but doesn't have time to fend off the other. The third one jumps in and snatches the bat while the second attempts to lock Edward's hands behind his back. His mother shrieks as the doctor grips her arm, keeping her from interfering. Edward jerks his head back, smacking the man behind him in the forehead. Edward spins around quick and throws an infuriated punch to the man's jaw. He turns to fight the third when the sound of a gun clicking makes his blood run cold and his body abruptly stiffen.

"One wrong move, and I won't hesitate," the doctor says, aiming the barrel of the lethal weapon to his mother's temple.

Enraged, Edward can only express his anger with a harsh glare.

"Eddie?"

He whips his head around to look at Penelope who stands with tears in her eyes. "Penny, go back to bed, okay? It's all right."

Penelope doesn't have time to answer as the man Edward headbutted scoops her up, his forearm pressing into the little girl's throat. Edward naturally goes to lunge for her, but the doctor yells out again with the threat of shooting his mother and he stops immediately.

"Okay," Edward growls, holding his hands up in surrender. "You let them go, and I'll come with you."

"Edward," his mother whispers, "no."

Edward ignores her, keeping his eyes locked on the doctor's. "You hurt either of them, though, and you can forget about cooperation."

The doctor smiles grimly, tilting his head. "You're very brave, Edward. That's good. Very good. Exactly what I'm looking for in a soldier."

Edward grits his teeth but stays silent, darting his eyes between his mother and Penelope.

"Get on your knees, hands on your head," the doctor says and Edward complies. The man that took his bat handcuffs Edward's hands while the large man hauls him up by the collar of his shirt. "Let the girl go."

The tension in Edward's body releases just a bit when the man sets Penelope to the floor. The small girl rushes for Edward, her arms wrapping around his waist. The same man that grabs her tries again, but Edward cuts in. "At least let me tell her goodbye," he snaps at the doctor, who rolls his eyes before allowing the interaction.

"Eddie," Penelope whispers. "Where are you going?"

Edward crouches to her level. "Remember the game we play where you're the superhero and I'm the mean monster you have to fight?"

Penelope nods, a tear streaking her cheek. He would wipe it away were his hands not bound.

Instead, he musters a hopefully convincing smile. "Well, it's time for me to be the superhero, okay? But I need you to be the brave princess you are and stay with Mom, can you do that?"

She nods again, sniffling. She throws her arms around his neck and hugs him tight. "When will you be back?"

"I don't know, Penny, but I will be back," he assures her, hoping it's not a lie.

"Promise?"

"I promise."

The man pulls her away again, but this time Penelope doesn't fight him. The doctor also allows a brief goodbye with his mother, who's crying wildly and has to be held back from clinging to him. A lump swells in Edward's throat, but he swallows it down. He has to show Penelope what being brave looks like, and it's to not let anyone get the best of you. He holds his head up defiantly, and voluntarily leaves his family behind.

If sacrificing himself needs to be done for his family's lives, then so be it.

When 748 emerges from his memory, he holds onto the remnants of his mother's and young Penelope's faces, refusing to let them go again.

They will be his salvation.