by Mitchell Fitzgerald

Created on: May 07, 2009

Their arrival was fierce and frightening. He had watched in terror as the tall, firearm-wielding men, their faces covered by dark masks, stormed into his home, firing at his mother and father, even his pet. The young boy's screams shook as he was thrown over the cold shoulder of one of the people and took from his home, tossed into the back of a large van. He laid there, crying, head bobbing numbly against the freezing, rough floor.

Where were they taking him?

Why were they doing this to him?

Why him?

Questions buzzed in his mind like the roar of a chainsaw, tearing through the helpless limbs of a maple.

The large, clear glass box buzzed around him, the fringe of every corner and refraction lit up in a gentle, amethyst blush. He laid there, his bare back against the cool floor. He was dressed in only pants; tight, black jeans that clung to his skin. And a pair of worn socks. His hair was dark, falling over his closed eyes. Dean wore a necklace around his neck, loose chain with a cross at the bottom. He was silent, his chest rising and falling in a steady breathing motion. And this one? A voice from outside the containment cell asked. Oh, the officer, dressed in a technologically advanced suit of armor, carrying a gun that looked like something straight out of 'Star Wars', said. This is our highest grade of weaponry. He relies completely on instinct and brute strength. The perfect monster. He looked proud. Ah the suited, balding man nodded in approval. I trust the cell is strong enough? We wouldn't want this one getting loose. A smirk arose on Dean'sface as he listened. It could mean a million dollar lawsuit. He continued on, walking from the large room. The doors hissed shut behind him, locking with an easily audible rumble. The weapon sat up and sighed, opening his eyes, revealing red irises. He stood in his prison, looking around. 'They think I can't leave?' He chuckled quietly, inaudible. From his eyes, everything was clear. Crisp. He could see the grains in the walls outside the glass, each individual cell of light that beamed from the fluorescents above him. He had the ability to demolish a transport truck, but they thought they couldn't break reinforced glass? He shook his head, smiling as he crouched, becoming animal like as his pupils grew over the red pigmentation of his irises. His fingers curled into claws as he pounced, plunging through the glass. It shattered, and alarms blared through the air, yelling endlessly. He landed lightly on the balls of his feet, whirring around and glaring at the door. 'This...might be a small problem,' he thought. The entire sheet of metal exploded, and people rushed in. But before they were even cocking their guns, he was past them and had shattered a window, running at perplexing speeds away from the remote military base and toward the near city.

Freedom, at last.

He was finally free.

And now there was nothing to stop him.

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