Jack felt cold. He was vaguely aware that he had passed out. Laying on the cold, dirty cement floor, Jack realised he was exhausted. Around his 538th length of his cell, Jack had collapsed from exhaustion. Jack heard sounds from outside his cell, the sounds of guards running around. Jack hoped they were coming for him, bringing him food. Then jack heard a gunshot. And another. And he prayed that the guards were not for him.
-
Jack was restless. The stiff wooden chair he sat in was uncomfortable. He had been sitting in it for what seemed like hours. He felt like he was back in med school, waiting for his professor to finish his lecture. Mr. Smiley was about to ask another idiotic question about Jack’s moral character, Jack could feel it. “Now Doctor Savage,” Mr. Smiley stepped forward as Jack tried to concentrate on the question. “Describe how you came to work for Maximum Firepower.”
“Jack took a deep breath as he remembered the days of years gone by. “Maximum Firepower was funding most of my courses through med school. After I graduated I went to them for a job, they were looking for doctors with backgrounds in bioengineering, and I fit the criteria perfectly. I was able to get myself an interview with Max. There was just something about the way he talked. Something that made me want to work for him.”
-
Jack held his scalpel in his hand. “Beginning the incision above the frontal lobe.” Jack was head of the Locust projects, but he still enjoyed being in the surgery room every now and then. “Munroe’s waking up. Give him more gas.” The Locust projects consisted of twelve unique research projects conducted to create an assembly line to create an army of perfect soldiers. The Stone project created unstoppably durable fighters. The Trickle project created controllable armies. The Talon project was designed to create the most deadly marksmen. “I said more gas god damn it! The last thing I need is for him to wake up while I’m scrambling his egg!” One day this procedure would be perfected, then automated, then use to create the perfect army. Max’s army.
-
Jack heard the bullets hitting the walls around his cell. They were .50 caliber, military grade. Jack propped his bed on its side and placed it against the wall opposite the sound of gunfire. Jack got behind his makeshift cover and waited for an attack. The wall in front of Jack exploded. Charges had been used to destroy the three foot thick concrete. A man in blue locust armour stepped through. “TALON” was written across his shoulder. He called on his radio. “I found him. Brining him out now. Hunter out.” Hunter took a step towards Jack as Jack got out of his cover. Jack stepped over bits of rubble. “Hello Hunter?”
“Hello Jack. I’m here to break you out. I recommend you grab a gun.”
Taking his first steps out of his cell, Jack grabbed a shotgun off a deceased guard.
-
“Now now, Dr. Savage,” the judge spoke with a thick southern accent, his pudgy fingers clutching onto a handful of documents. “We have eyewitness reports that claim you were armed with a firearm. A 12-guage no less! Now, how exactly did you manage to come into possession of such a firearm in this day and age?”
A smile crossed Jack’s face. He looked towards the guards at the doors, then back to the judge, “Stole it.”
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