The Fortunate Dead
Chapter 3: The Training Begins
Back to that old familiar scenario. The same tall grass. He wore it like a cloak, concealing himself with masterful stealth. He stalked his pray with with a still heart. Steady breathing. The fear and angst had gone, replaced with a simple anger. Hate consumed him in this environment, as his goal kept him from focusing on anything but success. Again he crept, slicing the guard's achiles tendon like he had done a thousand times before, and dragging him back into the grass. This time however, when he had the guard in the grass, he displayed no hesitation, slitting the man's throat with ease, and finally getting a clearer look at the encampment.
The guard walked around on their pre-designated path, never faltering. He watched carefully, making damn sure nobody would see him. He sliped over behind a tent near the edge of the grass, lying flat on the ground so as not to cast a shadow. He crawled forward, peaking out just enough to see the other guards. When he was sure he could make it, he leaped up, and quickly but quietly made his way through the area, coming once again to a field of tall grass. Again the grass assumed the role of a shroud, covering his small frame with ease.
Four guards here in the field. "This will be easy." He thought. Carefully, he crept toward the nearest guard. A quick slash of his achiles tendon just like before, and then a slitting of his throat. A bit repetitive maybe, but why change your methods if they work. The other guards of course noticed and began to panic, shooting wildly at the grass. He got close to another one and leaped out of his grassy shroud, quickly slitting the man's throat before landing directly behind another. Quickly he spun, stabbing him in the base of spine and then quickly scurrying through the grass, and jumping up onto the back of the last one, pressing his knife to the man's neck. Jacob smiled a devilish smile. And slowly pressed harder on the man's neck with his knife. A graceful slash dropped the man, and Jacob tumbled off of his back as he hit the ground.
"Simulation end." Droned the voice once again. "Exellent work Jacob. Such a vast improvement. You've earned a prize." The doctor said menacingly. He snatched the knife out of Jacob's hand and quickly substituted it for a gun. Nothing special. Just an old nine milimeter semi-auto, but it was the first time Jacob had ever held a firearm. Again, another child walked in. Jacob knew right away this wasn't going to be the same as last time. He knew as soon as he saw the child. The same boy from the cafeteria. his wounds were barely healed, and standing wasn't really recommended, let alone fighting.
"Shoot him." the doctor commanded "Doctors orders." Jacob shook his head at the doctor's pitiful attempt at humor. He raised the gun, with the sights fixed firmly on the boy's forehead. He squeezed the trigger slightly, careful not to squeeze hard enough to fire. He then turned the gun on the doctor, pulling the trigger tightly, and bracing for the recoil. There was no recoil however, nor was there a deafening gunshot. A look of shock and fear came over Jacob's face as the doctor walked up to him grinning with evil satisfaction. He slapped the gun out of Jacob's hand and then gripped the boys throat with one hand, lifting him off the floor, and subsequently dropping him on his knee. Crimson dribbled from Jacob's mouth as he lay on the floor. His last thought before he passed out was "Damn. Didn't think the old bastard knew what he was doing." With that thought, everything slid slowly out of focus, and left him in the dark. He Hadn't expected this, but he knew he could still win. The doctor wouldn't pass up potential no matter how dangerous.