Foreword: Right...well, this is my first Naruto fic. Not my first fic at all, despite what my author page may look like. I would greatly appreciate any feedback or thoughts you can give me as I currently don't have a beta just yet. But I'm looking! Any way, moving on.
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. That privilege belongs to Masashi Kishimoto and the affiliates of Shonen Jump. Also credit for the cover goes to eon-krate32 of DA.
Depicting The Unknown
A Problematic Subject
Cold. It was the first thing to surface in his mind. Chilled and searching for warmth, he shifted, his hands patting around in search of his lost blanket. His breath hitched and he fought against sleep to open bleary eyes as his shoulder rolled to press against an even colder surface. It was a struggle-his eyelids were the heaviest they'd ever felt-but soon the world came into focus. And with it his heart stopped.
Where was he? The room was sterile, in a solid shade of pure white, and if not for the grey metal instruments scattered about in an organized fashion, he was sure he'd have been blinded by its purity. Another chill racked through his frame and he found his gaze tilting downward. With a frown, he discovered the source of his discomfort: he was nude. Someone took my clothes, he thought with a weird frown, but more importantly he wondered, where are they now? He gazed about the room in search of the fabric, but found no sign of orange nor even a place where they could be stored. Instead he found tools-medical tools, he supposed. However he couldn't stop the nervous swallow as his eyes lingered on some of the more elaborate pieces: saws, hammers, and other devices that looked as if they'd be right at home in a torture session.
Deciding then and there that staying put would grant him no answers, he shoved off what he had originally thought a bed of sorts, but now as he stood, his bare feet against the cool tiled floor surface, he realized his "bed" had been a raised metal table. An operating table. He fought back a panicked breath and instead turned his gaze onto his own body, his hands touching what his eyes could not see. He found nothing. He sighed with relief; no one had tried to open him up, it seemed. Still, he shuddered. Where are my clothes? He padded around the room, taking up a more hands on search. Again there was nothing to be found. There was, however, a door.
He hesitated at first. He was naked and he wasn't sure if he was willing to flash any unlucky passerby. However, his need to know won out and he pushed open the thick metal door, frowning at the heavy sluggish weight of his limbs. If he didn't know any better, he'd have sworn his whole body had been asleep. Cautiously, he stepped out into the hallway and immediately froze.
He'd thought the room behind him was bad, but the hallway...the hallway was much worse. White, there was white everywhere; even the fluorescent lighting was blindingly vivid. If not for the slightly off shade of white that covered the floor, he probably wouldn't know where anything began, let alone ended. The hall extended to both left and right, but also stretched out in front of him. With no clue and afraid of getting lost, he pressed forward. Over time, his limbs moved easier and he felt like his normal self.
The walls were so alike that he wasn't aware of the obstruction until he walked right into it. The rattling thump told him what his eyes did not as he stepped back and pressed his hands against what could only be a glass wall of sorts. He was contemplating a way around it when his eyes grew wide as a bright green light flared beneath his palms.
"Unidentified personnel." Came a monotonous female voice. "Please stand by for genetic analysis."
He'd flinched at the voice. It was unnatural, it felt…fake. Still, the woman's request left a bad taste in his mouth. "Genetic what?" he pondered aloud. He spoke no more, instead he released a surprised cry of pain.
Ripping his hands from the glass surface, he could only stare in morbid fascination as tiny thin needles of glass sank back into the walls surface, his blood pooling within it. Riveted, he watched as his blood was spread thinner and thinner as it seemingly dissipated into the wall of glass.
"Analyzing…" The fake woman's voice came again.
He wasn't sure why, but he felt a sense of dread when she spoke again.
"Analysis complete. Subject identified. Subject 012607. Death was confirmed 1300 two days ago. Analysis results prove subject to be alive and functioning. Records have been corrected."
There was a lull in the empty hallway and he found himself growing uneasy. He knew why when she spoke again.
"Subject 012607, you are out of your zone, please return to the medic bay for processing."
Processing? His eyes widened.
"Subject 012607, you have been warned and security has been alerted."
Wary, he looked about him but saw nothing. Nothing at all. And it was that thought that prompted another. If there was nothing here, how did she know that he was still standing there. Paranoid now, his gaze shifted over the hall wildly, pausing only when he finally heard another sound-footsteps. Several people-and they were running.
Frightened, he slammed his fists against the wall. It rattled, but elsewise showed no sign of his onslaught. Throwing caution to the wind, he summoned his chakra, a jutsu coming to mind, only to stare in disbelief as his chakra was decidedly still and unmoving. The footsteps grew louder and with them grew his desperation. He began ramming himself against the glass. The rattling intensified.
"Warning, Gate 3 of the Medic bay is being assaulted." The false woman's voice was somehow louder despite not changing its tone.
They were closer; he could hear as their footsteps grew heavier. Still he shoved himself against the obstruction and, finally, his attempts were rewarded with a loud crack. Motivated by his partial success, he threw himself harder into the wall. A third attempt and it all came shattering around him. He tried not to cry out as the thick shards of glass sought to impale him. Instead he shredded the soles of his feet on broken glass and left bloodied prints as he sprinted down the hall.
"Halt or you will be shot!" A blessedly human voice called.
Shot? Regardless, he had no intention of stopping now. He didn't glance back even once to see his followers and so was surprised by the force that slammed into his back. He grunted and fell forward as the unexpected force took him off of his feet. He wasn't quite sure how long he laid there, but it was obviously too long as he heard the crunching of glass beneath feet. He frowned at their words.
"Shit. Bastard's still conscious."
"Then take him out, dumbass."
A deep throated chuckle came in response, "With pleasure."
There was an odd and unfamiliar sound; he was unable to dwell on it as there was a sharp pain in his neck following it and after that…darkness.
( )( )( )( )( )( )( )( )( )( )
When he awoke the second time, he was decidedly much warmer than he was before. His eyes squinting against the lighting-which he was mildly pleased to note was much dimmer than the hallway lights-, he raised a hand to cover them and noticed in mild wonder the bandages over his hand. Sitting up, he noticed right away he was in a bed. Staring at the covers that had pooled into his lap with his sudden motion, he slowly peeled them back and was not at all surprised to see the bandaging of his feet. Dropping the covers he stared about the room he was currently in and grew nervous very quickly. The bed was situated in the far right, bottom corner of the room; across from it, to the left was an odd steel toilet-sink combo; further up along the left side wall was a desk and chair, although they seemed to be made of some sort of grey plastic.
Yet the thing that bugged him the most was the walls. The wall that his bed was sided against was white, some sort of solid tile, but the rest of them… The rest of the walls were glass. He couldn't tell how thick they were, but he was willing to bet they were very similar to the glass wall he'd barely managed to break through. The room was a comfortable temperature and the bed still beckoned to him with its warmth, but still he couldn't prevent the shiver that slid down his spine.
Footsteps. He turned his gaze to the foot of his bed. The front of his glass prison-that's what it was he realized: a prison- was facing a hallway and someone was coming down it. His body tensed and he was unsure what for specifically.
"Subject one-twenty-six-oh-seven…" a male voice called drolly. And he found himself oddly comforted by the familiarity of it.
The black casual shoes came into sight first, followed by glimpses of a white cloth. The man was reasonably tall and dressed in black slacks and a grey sweater covered by a long white lab coat. The face was hidden by a brown clip board as the man seemed to study its contents. He found, however, that he needn't see the face to know it's owner as the man spoke again, letting out a long suffering sigh first, "…and here I thought I'd seen the last of you. Well-
The man lowered the clipboard to stare at the target of his words. His motions revealed the tall leaning silver hair that was so similar to a long used broom and a blank flat stare.
"Kakashi-sensei!" His relief was so great that he completely overlooked the man's words.
The man however, raised an eyebrow at this name. "Sensei?" He asked. "Oh-Seven, when have you ever referred to me as 'sensei'?"
He stilled in his bed then, "Kaka-" He started again. His gaze focused on the silver haired man's face then. Something was wrong. This wasn't Kakashi-sensei…it couldn't be… Because staring back at him with a blank, yet inquisitive stare were two normal slate grey eyes.
The man with Kakashi-sensei's face frowned then. "Oh-Seven are you-
He cut him off, saying, "Naruto."
"What?" Kakashi's imposter spoke again.
"My name," He frowned, his blue eyed gaze hardening, "my name isn't Oh-Seven. It isn't Subject 012607 either. It's Uzumaki Naruto."
Afterword: Well, I hope you enjoyed this first chapter. I'll try and have something up again within another week, but until then I will GREATLY appreciate your feedback and commentary. ^^