Freedom isn't free. Especially for those with power.

Drakmor opened his eyes to complete darkness. Drakmor had gotten use to this steel prison that his Creator had placed him in time and time again. But tonight he would not stay locked up; for tonight was the night he escaped.

                Drakmor angled his prosthetic right arm, surged his mercurial nanite cells to his chemically altered muscles, and punched a hole through a five-inch thick steel plate. Dull light crept into his tomb as Drakmor punched yet another hole through the steel, below the first one. He had to hurry or else it would all be in vain.

                Voices came to Drakmor’s attention as he created a third hole in the steel plate to the right of the second one that sealed his tomb. ‘Damn’ he thought to himself as he punched a fourth and final hole in the steel plate above the third hole. Drakmor pressed the palm of his hand in the center of the holes and pushed with his Mercurial-Enhanced muscles. The chunk of metal gave way on the right side and reluctantly bent open, as if it were a door with extremely rusted hinges.

                Drakmor climbed out of the opening and checked his surroundings, which contained nothing except a small computer and his large steel tomb. He dusted himself of and realized he wore nothing but a pair of grey pants. Drakmor scratched his head, causing his shoulder length hair to fall over his face and tied the string around the waist of his pants. Voices and footsteps grew closer, so Drakmor quickly located the door to his room, which sat directly behind his tomb.

                The door, of course, was locked. Drakmor looked down at his silver right arm. He remembered when his creator had grafted the thing onto him. He still did not know what had happened to his original arm. They told him he had gotten it damaged and it needed amputating. He believed them. The creators rarely lied, if at all. And his creator was usually very straight forward. But now was not the time to think of such things! He needed to escape; he needed to see this “outside world.”

                Drakmor punched the door with all the strength he could muster. An earsplitting metallic ring shot out and reverberated off the walls. Drakmor cried out in pain and covered his ears as best he could. After several moments, the ringing stopped and Drakmor examined the damage he had dealt. A small, slightly pathetic, dent marred the sleek door. ‘Damn,’ he thought, ‘it’s probably multilayered.’ Drakmor turned and jogged to the other side of the room and crouched. Surging every bit of the nanite cells in his body, Drakmor sent mercury to his entire muscular system. A sudden wave of strength rushed through his body and Drakmor took off toward the door.

                This time the door creaked inward almost a foot. Drakmor smiled to himself as he covered his ears in protection from the metallic ring. When he could hear again, he noticed the voices getting closer. Judging by how loud the voices were, Drakmor estimated he had almost ten minutes before he would be caught. He jogged back over to the opposite side of the room and resurged his nanite cells. The strength once again came over him and he immediately ran full speed at the door.

                Drakmor and the door flew into a hallway and against a wall. This time the metallic ring did not bother Drakmor and he ran down the dimly lit hallway. He passed several doors with strange symbols on them. He wished the creators had taught him the meaning of symbols like the other's they had created had been taught. Drakmor knew it was because of his misdeeds, but still felt a pang of jealousy. But, he was glad of the knowledge they had taught him. Hopefully it would help him in the outside world, if it even existed. ‘It has to exist’ he told himself. His curiosity wouldn’t allow him to think otherwise.

                As he ran, Drakmor made several notes on the path he took, trying different ways in this attempt. He had made several other attempts before this, so he had somewhat of an idea where not to go. With every attempt, he learned more of the layout of the facility in which he lived. If he was caught, he would at least walk away with more knowledge of where things were. Behind him the voices turned to shouts as a group of creators with tranquilizer guns rounded a corner. Drakmor smiled to himself. What fun would an escape be without a little challenge?

                A few darts whizzed by him as he turned down a corridor. Drakmor found stairs and immediately started climbing them as fast as he could without surging his nanite cells. It was strange how no one else had them. Drakmor had known about his nanite cells since childhood and knew all about how they carried the mercury in his body to one place and another. The Creators had taught him all about them and how they worked. The mercury was apparently unique to him too, and it even seemed poisonous to the creators. They had cleaned his silver blood up with protective gear and tools every time he had been injured. How did their organs work without mercury to fuel them? Drakmor had been confused by this but eventually given up after the fourth time it was explained. He never understood their explanation of red blood and specific cells.

                A dart hitting him in his right arm brought Drakmor out of his thoughts. Luckily the dart just bounced off the metallic arm. Unfortunately, there was a group of creators in front of him and he had almost made the mistake of running right into them. They each had a tranquilizer gun and had apparently missed their first shot, excluding that one dart that hit his right arm, as they were reloading. Drakmor quickly ran down another corridor. Shouts followed him, each asking him to stop with the occasional curse word added in.’ Too bad that their guns have only one shot per clip,’ Drakmor thought to himself, ‘ too bad for them anyway.’

                Drakmor kept straight and turned whenever he saw a group of creators. The building he was in was a maze of grand design. He needed to find more stairs. Stairs would inevitably lead to this ‘surface’ the creators talked about when they thought he wasn’t listening and the surface would lead to the outside world. Drakmor smiled to himself when he finally located the next set of stairs. As he climbed them, however, they collapsed under him. Quickly surging his nanite cells for a boost of strength, Drakmor leaped onto the floor of the next level. As he steadied himself, three darts bloomed on his chest. A group of creators cheered as Drakmor’s legs and arms gave out. 

               'Damn,' Drakmor thought as his world went black.

The End

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