Vanguard's Veil Ch. 1

Vanguard’s Veil

MrAlwins

Part I

1

            The first blip aroused him in darkness.  It was area within his dreams where he was aware of his own existence but without an inkling of what had befallen him.  He tried to comprehend what was going on, but his mind was distantly removed from his brain and was barricaded from his will by an impenetrable boundary.  There was no thinking in this curious realm.  Numb, blind, and lost, he didn’t even notice the tug on his life that stole him back into unconsciousness. 

            Soon or much later, Mitch awoke into a second round of intoxicating oblivion, but at a level above his previous state.  There was a new perk that tantalized his senses- sensation of his body.  Eyes.  Open.  It was a disappointing struggle against his muscles just to be able to see, but he managed to crack open an eyelid.  His struggle was in vain though, as he could not see anything.  Mitch was blind, and his world was gone.  Should he be concerned?  Still, he felt no emotions, not a single catch of fright or anxiety seeped from his mind.  Mitch truly was dead to everything.  There was a brief elevation of feeling just below his chin and his eyes shut softly, sending him back to the prison of his corpse.

            A faint, low rumble like a generator running in the distance woke him the third time.  This was not a gentle ascent back to life like the previous revivals, however.  Mitch was stung by a jolt of feeling that burst through his body from his face to his toes. This time, his whole body was ambushed violently, like being dropped bathtub filled with needles.  This made him happy, and a small giggle made his diaphragm flex.

            Stop laughing! This is painful!  Oh, thoughts!  I’m alive!

            Mitch was regaining his emotions, as if a small door to his former self had opened up to his brain.  Excited that he could reason again, he tried to arrange his thoughts and imagine where he was.  But before he could connect any puzzle pieces, something crept into his thoughts.  The commotion it caused made it seem very physical, like a warm and slimy tentacle working its way through a little door into Mitch's brain.  Something tangible that he could feel.  The tentacle slowly slithered its way to the back of his head and stopped for a moment.  It loosened up and flattened, turning into a liquid that oozed into every nook and cranny of his brain, completely infusing into him. Mitch hated the freedom that the intruder had over his body and tried desperately to push it out or at least make an attempt of resistance, but how?  It was already inside and spreading.  The warmth of the syrup oozed through every hedgerow of his brain's maze and made it buzz. 

            As the substance seeped further into his mind, he gained a better sense of himself: physical feelings, a kaleidoscope of emotions, and memories that all shook off the ashes of sleep.  Mitch felt the presence hit a sensitive spot and a shudder of queasiness was sent to his stomach. 

            Mitch attempted to reason with the enemy, but his language escaped him.

            The tentacle, seeming to realize this was a tender spot, reared back and generously relieved some pressure from the area for a short period of time.  But, after the small hiatus, it brutally attacked the sensitive area, sending anguishing shocks of pain through his head.  This invisible force that felt like a nest of angry hornets trying to sting their way out of Mitch’s body was soon harassing his whole body.  He could feel his legs convulse and straighten.  Movement.  His muscles engaged and he felt a slam as his heels collided with a hard surface.  His throat vibrated from a deep moan.  The pain abruptly stopped as the tentacle moved to another portion of Mitch’s brain.  Mitch still remained a slave to the omnipotence of the foreign ooze, but his lower body was reengaged.

The substance washed over every point in his brain trying to find more tender spots.  Once it hit one, the harassment resumed.  Shocks of pain pulsed through his arms and ended with a discharge of electricity through his fingertips.  Mitch squeezed his shook his arms into the air and slammed the hard surface next to his body.  As a checkpoint in his reasoning, he declared to himself that he was on his back. The attack ceased abruptly and the pain went with it.  Mitch’s hands drifted towards his body and felt bare skin.  His icy fingers streaked his sides and made him shudder.  The fluid repeated its process again and again, each time bringing terrifying pain and a new sense of life to his body and mind.   Everything was cold.

             Eventually the warm syrup’s work slowed to a stop, but Mitch was far from finished.  A second cold and less inviting foreign body made its way to the back of his head.  It did not penetrate his mind like its predecessor, but instead stiffened up and its tip narrowed to a sharpness that gave Mitch legitimate anxiety.  The sharp tentacle purposefully advanced to a location in his brain that was not painful.  It briskly settled in for a moment, and then a cool jet of air rushed into the area.  The tentacle disappeared quickly, but a cool afterthought remained.  Nothing more ensued inside his brain for an extended amount of time until he felt the familiar pinch that meant he would be sent back to his body's death-like state.  The numbness came rapidly this time.

            Mitch awoke the final time with a start as he drew a sharp breath in.  His body was shivering, and he could hear a low buzzing noise in his ears shortly followed by an obnoxious ringing.  He then saw showers of sparks bursting in front of his eyes followed by developing shades of white and gray.  Mitch was fully aware of his surroundings, having regained all of his senses and thinking capabilities.  He was still on his back, and in a very bright and cold room.  There were no smells or sounds other than his shallow breathing.  He feebly raised himself up onto his elbows, which required his full effort, and examined his surroundings.

            His eyes adjusted to the colorless world around him.  Apart from the glowing blue lines that indicated intricate pathways throughout the room, there was only extensive sterile white.  There was one particular pathway that ran straight through the room and continued through the walls on either side of him. 

            Follow, his brain told him.  Why follow?  It didn't even seem like his command.  He attempted to stand, but his legs were much too weak to support his body and he fell off of his chair into a heap.  The chilled, glossy floor came like a wall of ice to his starkly naked body.  He detected the necklace on his chest, and it felt remarkably warm compared to all else.  The shivering intensified and his vision spun.

            With much strife, Mitch crawled back up into his hovering egg, exerting nearly all of his energy.  Dozens of fireflies danced across his eyes and he breathed heavily for some time.  "He- help?" he spoke softly.  The chair glided smoothly to his right. 

            Mitch could feel the hair standing up on the back of his neck as the cool air whisked over his body and chilled him further.  His skin became taught and a wave of goose bumps erupted all over his body.  A square hole opened in the wall and Mitch glided through.  There was an odd looking girl sitting in a similar egg-chair in the other room, looking on without emotion.  Mitch's hands immediately flew to his waist and he covered his most private of areas.  They continued staring at each other for quite some time, until the girl broke the silence. 

            "Well look at you," she said dryly.

            "I'd rather you not," said Mitch with a small crack in his voice.  He could muster enough composure to speak, but his shallow breaths still came too frequently.

            "Sweet dreams?" she replied.

            "Is this a hospital?  What are you wearing?"  Mitch inquired weakly. 

            "This?"  She examined herself and raised her hands to question his preposterous remark.  "I look normal.  You're the naked infant.  I saw you fall, are you alright?"

            Now she was asking the preposterous question.  "No."

            "No.  Well, yes you are.  A little groggy, I understand.  But the sedatives were only so you could sleep through the trip."

            "Trip to where?  Where…  Where am I?  Are you Russian?"

            "No!  Ha, gosh no!  Oh my.  Out of all the questions you should be asking right now.  Bigger than that, Mr. Kroy."

            Mitch broke into a sweat that he could feel on his palms. “Bigger how?"  He had begun to panic and raise his voice, but this only succeeded in making him more lightheaded.

            "Calm down, you're safe.  Unless you fall off of your chair again and bust your head open, but that'll be your fault.  I'm not here to hurt you."

            "Who are you for me to trust?"

            "What, you don’t recognize me?"

            Mitch studied her closely.  The girl even brought her chair near to his so he could get a better look.  As they approached each other, Mitch saw that she owned a cute, pointed nose and pursed, pink lips that had hardly moved.  Her gallant chestnut hair was stark against her wan, gray skin and flowed down to her waist.  Even though she was clothed in a tight, all-black body suit, Mitch could tell she had a long, slender figure.  Her lengthy legs dangled nonchalantly off the chair.  Lastly, he noticed her beautifully vivid green eyes that appeared all too familiar and eyebrows trimmed to the point of being sharp.  

             "Am I supposed to?  It's a nice get up, but I don't know who or what the hell you are.  Must be the chloroform!"

            Disappointed by his answer, the girl answered gruffly, "Watch your mouth.  I'm going to take you to see my director of operations to determine what to do next."

            "What?  No!  Your terrorist leader?" he spat in a defensive tone. 

            "Mitch please," she sounded exasperated.  "If it’s that big of a deal to you," she rotated her wrist over and slid her finger down her sleeve.  A smaller egg drifted through the silent opening in the wall and approached the girl.  Inside was a black package, wrapped tightly in a bundle.  Once she was in possession of the bundle it was tossed to Mitch and the egg darted away.  "Just like new,"

            "What is this?"

            "What you were wearing when we left."  Mitch broke the seal of the plastic wrapping and excavated his clothes: hoodie, boxers, shorts.  "Well, what's essential?  And now it's clean,"

            "Turn around," he ordered.

            "Yes of course, the almighty Bro-siedon must be obeyed," she mocked and lay back in her cushion.

            That name.  It was terribly familiar.  As he slipped on his boxers for a miniscule amount of composure, another flicker of recognition leaped from his hand- more specifically, his index finger.  His skin was flawless.

            His face burned with anxiety.  His slid through his shorts just as a creeping chill made its way up his spine.  He looked up slowly and met the girl's ravenous green eyes.

            "How long," his voice cut off.

            "Hm?"

            "Have I been gone?  From my family?" 

            "Not long."

            "You think I’m that thick?" he jabbed his finger harshly in her face.  "Look at this!  This doesn't heal during a plane ride!"

            "Not naturally, no."  Mitch stared at her like a child beneath a master illusionist.  By what other means would it heal?  The rabbit has been pulled.  "You're a dreamer, right Mitch?"  His finger retreated back to hand sleeve of his hoodie before anything else happened to it.  "I remember you told me on the sands a while ago that you wanted to do something out of the ordinary.  That you wanted a change in your life.  Isn't this extraordinary for you?  Real modern medicine."

            "What?"

            "Your finger.  It was just a cut, it's not a big deal."

            "What else have you done to me?"

            "More questions?"

            "Where's my family?"

            "So many questions."

            "Answer them!"

            "Your family is fine.  They think you're spending the day out with your friends."

            "And?"

            "What?"

            "Everything else!"

            "You-" the girl stopped herself and fell into deep thought as her gaze narrowed, alternating focus between Mitch's right and left eye. 

            "I don’t want to pour all the knowledge on you at once, you might overdose."

            Mitch was amazed that she actually wondered if anything else could shock him even more.  "Just tell me what I need to know, please."

            "One more thing for now," her left hand slid into a hidden pocket on the backside of her suit, and she returned with a white paper square.  It was the underside of a picture.

            "Not everything has been the way it seemed.  That really should be apparent.  I'm going to show you this, and I need you to trust me.  Okay?"  Mitch merely hardened his face.