FAILED REBELLION

The United States, supposedly under threat of terrorism, has been put under a permanent state of Martial Law. Ruled by one man and his army, chances of escape are nothing short of narrow.

THE BUZZING SOUND, SO similar to that of flies swarming a rotting corpse, was undeniably frightening. The blue light emitting from the Taser was no less than excruciating to see let alone feel, but it was nothing compared to the horror that filled Alita as she watched her friends turn to rubber under the agony of the electrical weapon.

 

Alita had forgotten to take the Tasers into account, only looking out for the batons placed on the Siros' utility belt. A mistake that only a rookie could have made - and she was no amateur, at least, not at this point, ergo it was unforgivable to have let this happen.

 

Countless times she had planned an escape, numerous times did she look over each plan until it oozed perfection. So how could she have missed something as vital as the electrical artillery? Some part of Alita wished to charge someone else responsible for overlooking this sort of weapon. She attempted to convince herself that it was simply a matter of her unstable state of mind after what they had done to Jenna, a kind-hearted, frail woman whom had never done any wrong. But she knew that it was she who was solely at fault, nobody else was there for her to blame.

 

Her eyes, filled with the guilt of the pain the Siros were inflicting, a pain that she was inadvertently responsible for, were beginning to project salty tears as she remained still, unable to move from the weight of the remorse.

 

No, Alita could not dwell on this any further for she had to help her companions, keep them from being attacked by the taser which was growing closer to Alita rapidly. She searched through the moving silhouetted figures, looking for a victim. A Siro that had not yet been delt with. When her eyes met a woman being hauled away by two of them, Alita jumped to her feet, swaying slightly from the imbalance it had caused, and ran towards one of the two. Her eyes, fierce with resolve and protectiveness over her friends ,allowed her to leap onto his back, causing him to stumble forwards slightly under the weight.

 

All time seemed to slow as Alita struggled to stay a hold of the brawny Siro. Her head turned left a right to see everyone in similar positions as herself, struggling to overpower the evil Siros " and evidently failing. Her eyes deviated from one battle to another, watching her friends committing treason on the behalf of freedom, yet, she knew then that it was all over and that the Captain would win. Whilst some of her companions were being thrown from the backs of the Siros, others' arms were being twisted by the enemies' strength and the almost unbearable sound of their painful cries made Alita all the more determined to win.

 

Her face suddenly hit the cold concrete without warning, pulling Alita from her own musings. It jolted her so so that she gripped tighter around the Siro's neck and strangled him until he turned blue in that ugly face of his. But it was not enough to kill him; in fact, it merely slowed him. Though his breathing was shallow and ragged, the Siro quickly retaliated with a strike of his hard fist into the side of her skull.

 

In pained surprise, she toppled off of his back and put a hand to her head where he had landed the agonizing blow. Disoriented for only a mere moment, she bounded to her feet and placed her fisted hands in an offensive position, ready to dodge and retaliate the moment her opponent attempted to strike.

 

Surprisingly, her adversary burst into laughter, making Alita cringe marginally in fright. What is there to laugh about? She thought with a confused grimace. After all, this was a battle! And then it hit her. That laughter - that maniacal laughter that had shot the same tingles down her spine mere minutes ago.

 

"What is this?" He said between chuckles that irked Alita to no end. "A revolution?" All mêlées ceased, every person - Siro and prisoner - turned their attention to the man before her, shirking this combat as if it was nothing but a playful skirmish between friends.

 

Alita held back her tongue from screaming insults or curses, but she had no idea how long she could refuse giving permission to her aching mouth. Instead, she ground her teeth and let him continue to speak in that derisive tone of his.

 

"And I think I can accurately assume," his entire attitude exuded cockiness, yet still held that same readiness, in case Alita tried to suckerpunch him, "That you are the leader of this little attempt at rebellion, right, Alpha-Eight-Five-Zero-Sierra?"

 

Alita did not respond. In fact, all she did - all she could do - was stare into those hungry eyes of his, trying so hard not to tear those eyeballs out of their sockets.

 

"And the elder the Captain chose tonight -" he waved off her name as if it were unimportant. This made Alita highly infuriated. "- she was no doubt involved?"

 

Alita relaxed her position in order to move into the moonlight and gave her enemy one quick smirk, confirming what he had thought. Two seconds later, she moved back into the darkness and tensed back into her combatitive position, fists in front and eyes following his every move.

 

The man began to pace with his hands behind his back. The prisoners drew back each time he took a step towards them, not wanting to resume the combat they already knew they had lost. "What did you have your elder friend do? Create a distraction, no doubt." The leader of the Siros stroked his clean-chaven chin in contemplation. "What else?" Unanticipated, he clicked his thuimb and forefinger and yelled in realization. "The cameras!" He bellowed. "Your friend escaped the Captain - however briefly - and disconnected the cameras, am I right?" Without waiting for an answer, he tilted his head to look at the cameras, which had all been turned off - and then looked at Alita triumphantly. "But it will not do you any good." He leaned in closer, as if to whisper in her ears, but he knew that everyone could hear. "She is dead, and you will fail."

 

That struck Alita's last nerve. In pure, unadulterated hatred, she lunged forward and smashed into the man's masculine body with as much force as she could muster. Chaos recommenced, but Alita could see from her peripheral that all was lost. The Siros had the upper hand. They always did. But she sure in hell was not going to go down without a fight.

 

Suddenly, the room was engulfed in a brilliantly white incandescence, illustrating that the door had been opened once more. Three terrifying shadows fell upon them; the left one was stocky, plump and evidently wearing a lab coat, the middle was slightly taller and his outline was similar to that of a Siro, and the man on the right was an entire foot and a half taller with a burly build and a military posture.

 

The Captain.

 

"Master Grieg!" The Captain roared, his voie echoing around the Cathedral, bouncing off the walls and into the ears of the prisoners and Siros. One man, the man whom Alita had waged war on, jogged to the front and gave a military salute to the Captain.

 

"Sir!" Grieg greeted strongly, though there was a hint of fear in his tone.

 

The Captain shoved Grieg aside, entering the hallowed grounds as the doctor turned on the lights. "What is this, Grieg?"

 

"Nothing that I cannot handle, sir." He assured, though it would be pointless.

 

"And you call this handling it?" The Captain pointed at the Siros and prisoners all intertwined, engaged in warfare. "A riot, Grieg? In MY domicile?!"

 

Alita began to feel a pang of sympathy for Grieg - though, it was minuscule. Even the Siros were frightened of The Captain. Everyone was.

 

"I was getting it under control, Captain." Grieg restated with his hands behind his back and an unfathomable look upon his face.

 

"And who is responsible for this... Rebellion?" The Captain's tone was disconcerting, almost as if he already knew who it was.

 

"Alpha-Eight-Five-Zero-Sierra, sir." Grieg stared at Alita with a mischievous smirk as the Captain made his way towards her, totally calm - which scared her only further.

 

"So... You are the one responsible for this anarchy, huh?" He leaned closer until their noses were all but touching, his foul breath tickling her face and the stench making her nose wrinkle in disgust. When Alita did not respond, he became evern more angry and yelled. "Answer me, girl!"

 

Surprised, she stammered almost to the point of being incoherent. "Y-y-yes-s, s-sir. I-I am."

And without so much as a warning, the Captain grabbed her by the ears and pulled her to the opened doors, shouting to those left behind. "I shall deal with this. Grieg. Just get them all back to normal!"

 

Alita's mind raced in panic. What was he going to do to her? Would she not wake the following morning? Or perhaps it was something far worse. The Captain led her down the illuminated hallway for what seemed like an eternity. Eventually, the two came to a door, and inside was a room as large as a house, and cleaner than anyone could have thought possible. It was nothing but a room filled with a desk at the opposite end, a few inanimate objects that were merely props and not of any good use, and a small chair on the other side of the desk. This small chair was sheer steel and contained metallic bonds - no doubt to tie the disobedient ones so that they were unable to escape - on the armrests and the legs.

 

Alita was shoved onto the chair where the bands automatically entrapped her as the Captain sat on the other side, glaring at her angrily and yet, with curiosity and something else...

 

Alita did not like that look.