Chapter 1 - The Zoo

The metal rod cracked against my ribs. Another searing burst of pain as the ribs splintered and speared into my lungs. It felt like a knife twisting in my side. Sweat poured down my brow, stinging my eyes, mixing with blood and pooling on the dirty black floor. The acrid smell of urine filled the cell, it was a drunk's cell, and he was probably long dead by now. My left wrists pressed against the wall by a cuff, its magnets biting into skin. My bionic right arm hung limp, they'd put one of those freaking suppressors on it.

The Watchman in front of me put down the metal rod, sweat plastered over his gleaming forehead. "Now," he grunted, slumping down onto a metallic chair, "Who did you sell that rifle to?"

I spat blood near his feet. He knew damn well I couldn't speak because of the suppressor.

"What's wrong? Cat got you tongue?" he sneered, wiping away the sweat with one arm and sucking down a blue metallic cigarette with the other.

He stood up and hefted the metal pole onto his padded shoulder. "How about we make a deal, like the civilized people that we are here in the Gray."

I rolled my eyes. There was nothing civilized about the West Coast, let alone the Gray.

He blew a stream of blue smoke into my face. The sharp sting of nitric smoke was raw in my throat, making my lungs ache.

"You say one word, and I won't hit you. Just one. It could be a swear word, it could be anything. Just one word, kid." Another puff of smoke, dull blue eyes looking down at me, foils of sweat wafting from him and attacking my senses.

I clenched my jaw and stared back at him.

He shrugged, rolling his large shoulders. "Suit yourself."

Everything slowed down. The swing of the pole took millennia. The sweat flew off of his large arms, cracked teeth letting spit fly from them. The pole made contact, more ribs snapped and cracked. I groaned an animal's groan. Tears ran long streaks down my cheeks as he continued.

Another swing, another crack. More spit flying, more snapping. He continued for what seemed like hours, slamming the metal into my sides until my skin split. Bruises turned into welts, welts into deep cuts.

The silver pole matted red in the dim green-white light of the cell.

The heavy metal door of the cell swung open, creaking on its rusted hinges. Another Watchman strode into the room, a scarred hand wrapped around a boy's throat.

"Hey Mickey," the man with the pole grunted, sweat staining his black t-shirt.

"Hey, man. Got another one for ya." The man strapped the boy next to me onto the metal wall, metallic clicks echoed around the small room as he switched on the cuffs. His soft brown skin warm in the dim light. Dark shoulder length hair hanging over his face.

"Where'd you find this one?" Mickey asked, lifting up the boy's chin with the end of the bloody pole.

Bloody pole in both senses.

"Found him lurking around the market. Askin' people if they had a type-machine gun," the man grunted, lighting a yellow cigarette and squeezing it between his tight lips.

"Machine gun, huh?" Mickey turned towards me. "Is he a friend of yours, Stray?"

I wanted to tell him to stick the pole up his ass, but the suppressor saved me from another beating.

"Get real man, this kid isn't the Stray. He may have different color eyes, but he ain't the Stray. Probably doesn't even exist," Scar hand sighed, waving his hand through the air, spreading vanilla tinged nitric smoke around the room. "Now, you can deal with these two after lunch. The hot bar opens in a couple minutes. This girl Suzie, man I'm telling you, she can do all sorts of crazy things. And don't get me started on the twins."

The man with the metal bat chuckled, following his friend out of the cell. "You're talking about Ben and Jake, right? Those two are wild. Heard they're from the East Coast."

Their voices cut off as the heavy door slammed shut. The room smelt even worse now, urine, sweat and blood. A cocktail of what the worst parts of the Gray smelt like. Breathing was near impossible, I could practically feel bone fragments trying to climb up my wind pipe. Fantastic times.

The boy next to me began to laugh, a soft laugh that grew into a triumphant one.

"Man I can't believe I finally found you!" the boy grinned, finally looking at me. Hard black eyes surrounded by soft cinnamon skin, the number two tattooed on his cheek.

Tick. Of course it was Tick. It was always Tick.

"What? You aren't happy to see me?" he frowned.

I jerked my chin to a black metal patch attached to my right shoulder.

"Oh. A suppressors. So that's why I couldn't hear you swearin'." His tongue moved around his mouth until a small silver key peaked between his teeth. He managed to shimmy himself up the wall into an awkward position. His knee touching his elbow, his neck stretched towards the metal cuffs. He pressed the key onto one cuff and then the other until they popped away from the wall.

He fell in a heap onto the filthy ground. He grinned and gave me a thumbs up, I shrugged approval which sent spears of pain down my back.

"Like you can do any better," he muttered, working another tool underneath the suppressor. He tugged and heaved at it, making it feel like someone was trying to pull my arm out of its socket, which in a way, it was.

It came off with a satisfying hiss, clicking against the cement floor.

"Finally. I've been in here for two weeks. Where have you been?" I groaned, giving him a weak hug.

"I'm so sorry that I've been busy getting thrown in different cells looking for you. You do know that I nearly died in one of them," he snorted, already working on the control panel at the door.

"Well you didn't," I laughed, which was stupid because my ribs weren't having it.

"Man, they really did a number on you, huh?" he mumbled, eyes staring at wires and chips.

"Did the blood and bruises give it away?"

"That and you sound like a bitch," he chuckled.

"Thanks. I like when I sound like that," I retorted, a weak smile tugging at my lips, just below where the scar running down my right eye stopped.

He muttered to himself for a few minutes, twisting wires and saying things in Spanish. Mostly swear words. I've been around Tick long enough to know that when he's speaking Spanish he's mostly just swearing. That or singing old songs. My father sang these all the time in the coco fields, man, he would remind me again and again every time I told him to shut up. If I don't sing them, no one else will, and then the old man will be nothing but a gravestone.

I gingerly pulled on my black t-shirt that had been bawled and thrown into a corner. It smelt, but what could I do about that right now. I'm pretty sure the Watchmen wouldn't let me use their washing machines.

"And this should do it," Tick muttered. He slapped the panel shut and the door clicked open. "I'm telling you, man, I'm the next Harry Houdini."

"I still don't get why you care about people who were alive thousands of years ago," I chided.

"Do you want to stay in here and wait for a beating?"

"No, sir, I do not." I patted him on the back and followed him out of the cell.

The corridor was cold and silent. Vents hidden in the ceiling pumped cool air into the gray tunnel. The cold made my sides ache, the skin that met the metal of my right arm burnt. Pink and raw after all of the beatings. Tick patted my shoulder and jerked his chin to the right. I followed him down the corridor, my feet tapping against the stone. We paused whenever we heard noises coming from other cells, tensing and waiting for a Watchman to pop out and brain us with an electroshock bat.

We weaved through the maze of corridors, pausing to figure out where the warmest air was coming from. One obvious thing about the Gray is that it's never cold, always humid and warm. The warmth led us out of the cold and into a courtyard, the multi-story gray block of the Zoo wrapped around the courtyard in a 'U'. He was about to step foot onto the mottled gray grass until I stuck out a hand and stopped him. I pointed towards the top of the buildings, cylinders with black glass wrapped around them stood stoically, daring us to test them.

"Cameras?" Tick muttered, peaking behind the wall we were hiding behind.

"No. Cameras aren't allowed in the Gray." I grabbed a hand full of gravel and tossed it onto the gray grass. A flash of white light hit the gravel before it even touched the ground, leaving behind a cloud of ash. "They went all out with this one."

"So who's going to take one for the team?" Tick asked.

"Both of us are going to die either way," I sighed. Sweat and blood plastered my shirt to my torso, it was hard to keep on my feet, the ground rising and falling. I leaned against the wall and slid down to the ground. Back against a wall, front staring at death.

"Nope. I know that look on your face. Chin up." Tick pulled me back up to my feet, letting me lean against him. "We've been through worse. Remember the skin farms down south?"

I groaned, "Don't remind me about that. Still can't get the smell out of my hair."

"Luckily for us, Runt came in handy that day."

"Don't tell me you brought her along."

"I brought her along," he laughed. "Without her, I wouldn't have known you were in the Gray. But we'll have to go back into the Zoo and get a guard."

"To drag across the yard?"

"To drag across the yard."

I could barely stand on my own two feet. Taking down a guard twice my size and then dragging him through the corridors of the Zoo, past other cells and across the yard was asking to be thrown into another cell and beaten into a stain on a wall. We began our hobble towards the door we had just left, the cold wall slamming into us, ribs aching, throat raw, stumbling down the eerily silent corridor.

Pounding against metal doors muffled by the ventilators, faint cries for help shut behind silver doors. Some cells had green lights above them, other cells had red lights above them. Occupied or not, dead or alive, whatever meaning you wanted to take away from it. The constant thought that hung above everyone's head in the Gray, walking on the thin line between being alive or seeing everyone who died in the war.

"This seems like the right door," Tick muttered, standing in front of a dented door, the smell of urine seeped out from beneath the door. A green light blinked above it, a pulse like a heartbeat.

"And how do you know that?" I questioned him.

He shrugged. "A gut feeling. Plus the panel's busted." He jerked his chin towards the black square on the wall, its screen black, wires peaking behind its casing.

I stumbled as I tried to stand on my own feet, the ground swaying again. I leaned against the white wall next to the black square, nodding at Tick to start our latest suicide mission. He pulled out a small knife and shoved open the metal door. A rush of warmth burst into the corridor, mystery liquids ran out of the cell and stained the white floor. A girl was strapped to the wall, a burly Watchman with long braided hair and dark brown eyes stood in front of her. The Watchman's – Watchwoman's – fine eyebrows climbed her forehead, her mouth hung open.

Tick and I stared at the woman, the girl – barely conscious – looked at us through dirty hair, one blue eye looked at us through numb pain, the other hidden behind mangled blonde hair.

"Who the hell are you two?" the woman growled. An electroshock bat humming in her fist.

"Tourists?" I suggested.

She paused and that was our chance. Tick lunged at her, slamming her against the wall. I tore the bat away from her and swung it just hard enough to daze her. The metal crunched against her skull and she fell into a heap, groaning into the filthy floor. My sides ached and blood flowed down into my slim trousers, my legs disappeared and I collapsed against the wall, my head smacking the metal, the room blinking out into darkness.

A/N: The beginning might be a little slow but it picks up pretty quickly! I hope you can give it a chance!