"Well, we don't know where he came from. We were on the surface as part of our retrieval for information, and we saw him wandering around. He seemed pretty normal, so we asked him to come with us. And now he's in containment, for further questioning, he said he was good with metals and farming, so maybe we can utilize him to salvage things for us. After all, the radiation seemed to have no effect on him, and he claims to know the surface pretty well."
Trevor sat on the hard, iron bench in the holding cell of one of the underground metropolitan's containment blocks. He wasn't quite sure why he was there, or if he'd even get out. With a sigh exuding his lungs in a slow, calm manner, he leaned back against the ivory painted bricks of the wall, where he'd recline his head and blink due to the small refraction of light overhead.
It shone the outline of his tired eyes, as well as the deep hue of some chocolate color that clouded the abyssal pupils therein. Rolling his shoulders counter-clockwise, he looked to the two guards, or assumably; and stood from the bench. Walking over towards the bars, he leaned into them, grappling two simultaneously before calling out,
"Have either of you got any medication for a headache? My head, is killing me. I've run out of ginger quite some time back."
One could easily assume that Trevor La'Gatzi was quite an articulate fellow, and he often knew how to take care of people with a simple remedy having to do with food. He was no doctor, but he was wise, often with the ability to deliver advice as to how to alleviate some pain, or even when one had fallen ill.
Closing his lids, he pressed his forehead into the bars and gripped them tighter, making a secondary inquisition.
"Please, anyone. I need to rid of this headache."
"I don't care, shut the fuck up and stay in there, you'll get your medicine when we know you're not hostile."
"But I'm entirely harmless."
"Then what are the blood stains?"
"I don't know... I blacked out, and when I came to, I noticed my hands were covered in blood."
"Yeah..."
The guard replied, laughing.
"Like we haven't heard that one before."
"Please, just... get me out of here."
The guard seemed uneasy at this point, and was getting tired of Trevor's begging, that much was obvious. Getting from his seat, he walked to Trevor's cell, and brought his baton up to level with Trevor's face. Those dark brown eyes were unveiled through crescents of flesh films, where he inhaled slowly and furled his brows even further. He didn't say anything to the guard, even after he proceeded to press the tip of the baton into Trevor's forehead.
"I run this, not you. Like I said, you'll be out of here when we know for sure that you're not a murdurer, or something."
Slowly, the tall male brought his hands from the bars and pressed his palms to his eyes. The convulsions of this headache were only getting worse, and the pain was almost astounding. Feeling his shoulders tighten, he began to breathe heavily and muttered something under his breath. It sounded something like, "Let... me... out." the guard held his ground, and started smacking the iron with his baton.
This was only making the convulsions worse, almost as if the guard had been following some sort of rhythm with each pulse of excruciating pain that only seemed to spread through Trevor's skull. He could feel pressure in his eyes, sensitivity in his teeth, his skin began to feel like it was on fire. However, the guard still didn't seem to care.
"Sit down, I'll go try to s-..."
"Silence!"
The guard had been interrupted.
"Excuse me?"
"Station said silence, you fat pig!"
And at that point, Trevor had walked to the bars where the guard stood and reached out.
"Station want your keys. George give Station keys!"
And with an extremely hard tug, after having managed to secure the guard's collar, he pulled the guard into the bars, causing the bridge of his nose to smash, followed by his cries of pain. He began to beat Trevor's arm with his baton, but this was to no avail. The other guards watched in horror, and one of them ran over, managing to get a controlled surge of electricity to run through the psychopath's muscles.
This was also unsuccessful, as Station then reached his left hand out and grappled the guard's head, or what of it he could, and yelled something that was almost incomprehensible.
"You want shock Station? Station show George Station no like shock!"
And pulled the guard's head into the bars again, and again, and again, and again... and again.
And no matter how much the other guards tried their best to pull the monster off of their colleague, they had been entirely unsuccessful. One of them had enough, and pulled a gun on Station, who had already managed to snatch the dead guard's key and unlock the cell. They hadn't noticed it, given that they were paying attention to this man having his face split open.
Stepping out of the cell, Station looked to the gun in the man's hand and slowly walked over, a grin on his face. The man was reluctant to pull the trigger, but too shaken up to actually do it.
"S-stay right there! I d-don't want to shoot you!"
"Then Station shoot himself."
The psychopath grabbed the wrist of the hand that was securing the gun before twisting it every which way, causing the bones and joints to sever in such a violent fashion, where Station suddenly stepped forward, headbutting the guard, and snatching the gun from his hand.
"Station no like guns, but he like when they go bang bang!"
And the guards instantly knew the onslaught that was to come.
Just as any witnesses would have suspected, the psychopath had utilized the weapon on both the guards, wasting the clip on these two men before tossing the gun elsewhere and walking out of the holding chambers. Covered in more blood, Station sat down somewhere quiet, with his legs crossed and against one another before staring at the row of shops across from him, where he began to rock back and forth.
