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Hours have passed, maybe even days, I’m not sure.

Darkness is my prison in a prison, I can just make out the metal surfaces that surround me, and in every direction I turn is another flat metal wall that prevents all escape.

Accompanied only by an eerie silence, the sudden need to be home again stings in the back of my mind.

I run my hand down the cold surface of the metal prison wall, the memories of my life bringing both a smile and a frown upon my face, the memories of my youth.

My father would sit out the back on an old wooden chair he’d put together while I ran across the almost empty land, covered by the long grass that tickled my legs, a gentle breeze brushing against my face. I didn’t have much as we were poor, but I was happy, and that was what kept my family happy.

Are there others like me? And if so, where are they? My thoughts keep going back to the fact that I’m not normal, far from it. Was I taken here because of my power?

In an instant a blinding light surrounds me, I raise my arms to shield myself from the sudden light that left me stunned, until my eyes finally adjust to the light and I find myself staring at the metal walls that surrounded me. It was perfectly made, not a scratch, not a dent. A faded reflection was the only thing that marked the surface, and I found my own eyes looking back at me from the reflection.

My body was mostly covered in thick steel armour, but parts of my arms and face weren’t covered by the steel, one eye was seemingly robotic, while the other was more normal.

I wore a rough cloak that was slightly torn around the edges of the sleeves, a hood hung from my shoulders.

I remove my eyes from the refection and turn to see where the sudden burst of light came from.

The roof of the metal prison was lifted and I could feel the eyes watching me from behind the gas mask that the figure wore, his body was covered in thick armour like clothes, around his waist I could just see the end of the handgun within its holster, beside the handgun in his belt was a knife, and on top of the already deadly combination was the rifle that was strapped to his back.

The man just watches me for a few seconds before he throws something down onto the metal floor before me.  

I look at the object, it was some type of food, but I couldn’t recognise it. This might be because of the fact that I didn’t live in highly rich family, or it could be a different kind of unrecognisable food that we didn’t have back home, but whatever it was, it didn’t look appetising.

I look back at the man who was now slowly closing the roof of the metal prison.

“Wait!” I call raising my hand, he must have heard me because he stopped closing the lid and paused. “What are you going to do with me?” I continue.

“Classified,” I can hear his voice, in a surprisingly neutral tone calling back, before he continues to slowly close the roof.

Without thinking I suddenly run forwards and jump upwards, striking my fist against the roof startling the man who stumbles backwards, I grab the edge of the roof stopping it from closing before placing my other hand against the side of the wall and boosting myself forwards until I had pulled myself over the metal wall and slipped under the roof of the prison, landing on the floor before the man who reached for his handgun.

As he grabbed his weapon, metal begins to form around my hand before forming a metal bow and a similar designed arrow forms in my other hand.

The bow was pure steel with a thin metallic wire which acted like the bowstring, the texture was smooth but cold. The arrow had a sharp metal point with a skinny cylinder of steel leading a short way away from the point before stopping abruptly, the arrow was hollow which made it incredibly light and able to cut through the air which ease.

I place the arrow to the bow and fire a perfectly executed shot, the arrow strikes the man in the hand forcing him to drop his handgun and clutch his injured hand freeing the arrow from its depths.

With his other hand he reaches for his rifle and pulls it from his back before aiming, the weapon he held moved slightly because of his injured hand making it harder to have a perfect aim.

A metal spike bursts from the ground before him encasing the rifle like a blanket thrown over a bed, keeping its exact shape unchanged, but with an extra layer preventing the rifle see any light.

The man who still held the end of the rifle tries desperately to free it but it was fastened in place.

The man breaks his hand free from the rifle and grabbing his knife, quickly advancing forwards.

The metal trapping the rifle begins to break away, as the rifle falls to the ground striking the remainder of the metal fragments sending it spinning across the ground and stopping by my feet.

In a flash the man caught sight of the rifle and darted forwards raising his knife.

I quickly roll aside grabbing the rifle and jumping back to my feet.

Raising the weapon, I feel my finger against the trigger as I raise it to his head.

The man which was clearly well trained by the skill and lack of spilled information, just stood watching me, no emotions showing in his actions, his arms were perfectly straight, and I could swear I heard a slight laugh from behind the gas mask he wore, his least professional sign he held.

His lack of many emotions in his body, and the fact that he hid his face behind a gas mask should have made it easier to pull the trigger, but it made it worse, knowing that I’d never know what kind of man he was if I ended his life, and the question of whether he actually deserved to die. Even though he attacked me, carried me from my home and threw me in a prison of metal, it still didn’t mean he deserved it, I don’t know who he is and the people he works with, their intensions might not be for evil.

I continue looking at the man, not moving the rifle from it position.

Narrowing my eyes, a frown upon my face, my hand shaking slightly as I move my finger to rest on the trigger, my grip tightening on the rifle, my eyes darting across the area. Searching. I don’t know what for, but just something, something to help.

From what I could see, their was a narrow platform not too far away, the metal cube which was once my prison sat against the wall.

I soon direct my sight back to the man who was now slowly walking forwards.

I open my mouth to speak, but I stop, my head aching from the decision I had to make.

“You won’t kill me,” the man says in a neutral tone, showing no emotion.

I pause, freezing entirely, watching the man.

I suddenly throw the rifle watching as it struck the ground, then my hand clenches in a fist as a metal chain bursts from the wall and wraps around his arm, then another chain tightens around his other arm.

I turn as I begin walking in the opposite direction to the man.

Not far ahead I could see three more men, dressed in the same weird armour, with gas masks over their faces, a certainly odd choice of clothes.

The three men quickly spot me and reach for their weapons, each bearing rifles which were aimed straight for me.

The three men begin walking forwards, signalling to each other.

“How’d he escape,” I can just hear one man ask the other next to him.

“Does it matter, he’s out now. We just have to deal with it,” the other man replies before signalling to the other two men on his side who begin to walk around me, watching my every move, one now stood on one side, while the other stood on the opposite side, and then the third man stood directly in front of me.

Glancing around the three men, my fists clenched.

The three men raise their rifles and place their fingers to the trigger.

Raising one of my hands, a long double bladed sword appearing in my grasp, the sword wielded a golden handle which my hand gripped tightly, the long blades were each half the size of my arms, made of a smooth steel, the edges made of a shiny blue metal that were sharper than any knife.

I catch a glimpse of one of the men by my side stepping forwards and aiming his rifle.

I spin around and throw the sword which cuts through the air like a knife through butter, the man quickly attempts to jump aside but he wasn’t quick enough as the sword dug deeply into his leg, blood staining the floor.

I dive to the ground as the two other men pull the trigger on their rifles, the bullets narrowly missing me.

One of the men moves forwards standing over me with his rifle aimed for my head.

I raise my hand knocking the rifle into the air before kicking the man in the gut and darting aside reaching the man who was now pulling the sword free from his leg.

I grab onto his neck and throw him aside grabbing my sword as another slightly shorter sword appeared in my other hand.

I spin around as the two other men approach me.

I then throw one of my two swords and, watching it strike one of the men in the arm knocking the rifle from his grasp.

I then sprint forwards, readying the sword in my hand.

The only standing man raises his rifle and places his finger to the trigger.

In my free hand a circular piece of metal appears, a handle sticking out the side, which I held.

I raise the metal shield as a round of bullets thud into the surface causing small dents.

Soon I was in arm’s length of the man, I throw the shield aside and raise my sword above my head striking the rifle onto the ground, I then strike again, cutting a mark across his arm.

The man stumbles backwards before reaching for his handgun as a metal bow and arrow appears in my hands, and I fire a single arrow which flies straight passed his head narrowly missing.

The man turns to try and spot the arrow before turning back to me, pulling out his handgun from its holster.

A metal barrier burst from the ground and attempts to shield me from the attack but it just crumbled away before completion.

I stumble backwards as a sudden pain shoots through my arm, I raise my arm as fresh blood fall onto the floor, a deep cut ran across the metal surface reaching the flesh hidden underneath.

The man suddenly rushes forwards, raising his fist.

I raise my hand a metal spike jutting from my palm which cuts him across the face causing him to step back.

More pain shoots through my body as the metal spike breaks away, leaving a trail of my own blood, I fall backwards onto the ground, as the man begins to advance once more.

The man stands over me raising his handgun, his finger placed at the trigger, a sense of triumph high in the air.

I try to grab the man’s arm, directing the aim of his weapon away from me, but he quickly overpowers me pushing the handgun against my head.

I kick the man with my knee knocking him of balance and then grabbing onto him and throwing him across the ground.

The man then reveals another handgun, as he raises it, I jump aside as he fires but the bullet strikes my leg, producing only a small stinging pain which surprised me.

I then kick the man in the gut knocking him to the ground.

My powers, the thought running through my mind of what just happened, they’re limited, the memory of my past, and the dangerous consequences that my father taught me of using my powers. I only ever used my powers this much in a single day once before, that’s the time I learned the dangers of my power, but in all the action I almost forgot my past and forgot the dire consequences I learned once before.

I kneel to the ground and place my hand on the metal floor before closing my eyes and feeling the strength in my body returning.

Renewal of the metals in my body is the only way to repair the damage done, but finding the metal to replace mine is the hard part.

A deep crack runs across the ground as the metal is absorbed into my body.

“Hey,” a voice calls.

I look over to where the voice had come from before spotting the female figure standing not too far away.

She had long thick raven black hair that reached just above her hips, her eyes were completely black

Submitted: January 11, 2016

© Copyright 2021 ShakeilKanish. All rights reserved.


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Add Your Comments:



The background on Kieran was an interesting addition to this chapter. It did show more about him as a person, not caring about money but was happy anyway. I also like how Kieran fights. He used his power to his full advantage, maybe even a bit too much. The fact that after a while, it started to hurt him, made for an interesting twist in making his abilities more limited then they first seemed. This ending makes me curious and excited for next week as well.

Tue, January 12th, 2016 7:10am

Murdoch Warilard

I love the fight scenes in this chapter, very detailed and full of anger, yet still emotional on the way he couldn't pull the trigger because he didn't know who he was. I couldn't understand how his power worked until he got shot on the leg and he mentioned using steel to replenish his and heal the wound. So I'm guessing he uses the iron in his blood to create the weapons out of thin air which is why it can be dangerous using it too much. but that's just what I think, correct me if I'm wrong.

Wed, February 3rd, 2016 12:03am

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