Ow. Ow ow ow.

My eyes peeled open to be seared by what had to be the brightest overhead lights I had ever seen. Every piece of me was racked with pain, except for my hands and feet which had lost all feeling due to overly tightened restraints. I could feel my back sticking to the metal slab beneath me, adhered by fluid that I feared was mine. I could hardly breathe the burning antiseptic air, underscored by a sharp tang of iron, copper, and fear. I managed to lift my head and saw crude stitching across my stomach and chest. Too exhausted and frightened to vomit, I turned my head and saw other gurneys with fellow victims strapped in, similar inflicted wounds covering their bodies, blood running in rivulets down from their slabs, across the white tile to a floor drain. I could see their chests rising and falling, too rapidly. They too struggled to breath. I tugged at my restraints, and to my utter surprise, yanked one free.

Unsure when our tormenters would return, I frantically clawed at the remaining straps. I heard voices echoing down the hallway outside the door and increased my efforts for freedom. Success! I rolled off and hit the floor, almost blacking out. I pulled myself upright and staggered forward, intent on leaving the others behind. I had to get free! I could bring reinforcements for them later – I was only an engineer; I wasn’t trained for combat. The room stretched in front of me, each step seeming to take me farther from the door. I slipped back down to the floor, thirst and blood loss taking their toll. I looked back and cursed. I couldn’t do it; I couldn’t leave them. I told myself this was practical – if I collapsed, another would have a chance to escape and bring rescue. I crawled back and went to each of the three tables, fumbling to free them from their straps. I could here one of them stirring, and hoped my efforts were enough – the voices were getting closer.

Crawling now towards the door, I pushed myself to keep going. I finally reached it and pulled myself up against the doorframe. I staggered down the hall and almost collapsed when a blaring klaxon pierced my ears. I heard a cacophony of voices and booted feet thumping toward me. I’d never outrun them, but maybe one of my crewmates could get out. I shouted to bring the hoard toward me and turned toward the heavy door with a push bar in front of me. Big letters brilliant red glared down at me.

EXIT

I hope that meant a way out. I pushed through and staggered onto pavement. My breaths came harder; this atmosphere wasn’t right for my lungs. I squinted, trying to see past the shining lights that were pointed at me. I couldn’t equilibrate fast enough – I felt dry hands grab me and force me to the ground. One of the torturers xyr white coat leaned down into my face – ugly tiny eyes boring into mine. Xyr headfur was tied back and xyr pale washed-out face smooth of lines. Blunt teeth flashed as xyr mouth pulled back and babbled something at me. I stared hard back – my unblinking black eyes, huge in comparison, elicited a shudder. I was roughly dragged back to the room of horrors, but to my delight, one of the tables was now empty. This planet will be dust.

Thanks! I try to add a twist to most of my short stories (even better when it's dark!)

Thank you very much! I'm glad you liked it. I post all of my WP-inspired short stories in r/MMRicain_ShortStories if you want to read more (I do a lot of sci-fi)

Agent Levi flicked open the case file on Regina Hawkes. Caught by the FBI’s Economic Espionage Unit, Regina had been employed by Promotivate, Inc. as a low-level programmatic technician for the Nyx Advertising Program. As far as the public knew, NAP was discontinued in the beta-testing stages, ostensibly due to running over-budget. Vague rumors had circled among Promotivate’s competitors that the project had actually been pulled due to the actions of the disgruntled employee he was about to interview. She was being head-hunted by both domestic and foreign agencies when the FBI had finally collected enough data to bring her in.

A guard came to the waiting room to escort him into the bowels of ADX Florence federal super-max prison, which Levi personally thought was a bit overkill. But he was there to find out precisely which foreign agencies she had been in contact with and what had been shared, not question the location of her imprisonment.

She waited alone, cuffed to the table, in the standard orange jumpsuit. Levi would have put the subject in her early forties, but her birthdate stated that she was 57. Her brown eyes were a little more sunken than in her photo, and her brown roots needed a touch-up, but prison was hard on everybody.

“Good afternoon, Regina. How are you?” Levi sat across from her, discreetly keeping the file’s contents out of her view. The woman was physically unremarkable, enough that she would have made an excellent under cover agent – her former employer had clearly underestimated her.

“I have had better days,” she quipped, leaning back in the small metal chair.

“Tell me a little about NAP and what you worked on.” Levi preferred to dive right in, which usually garnered surprise from his previous interviewees, but Regina remained impassive.

If she was annoyed by being asked a question she had answered repeatedly over several weeks, she didn’t show it. “The Nyx Advertising Project was touted as next-gen product placement to investors. Promotivate would have been able to directly transmit advertisements to the target audience into their minds while they slept. The big drawback to the project was that it would require installment of a brain chip, which means a partnership with Google, whose research is much further along in that type of hardware.”

“And what did you personally work on?”

“I was one of several programmers tasked with coding in the products themselves. The ‘several’ was the issue Promotivate had – I was classed as redundant and laid off.”

“You took issue with that.”

“Agent, I’m a 57 year old female programmer, less than 10 years from retirement and on the company’s pension. Despite several laws in place, ageism and sexism are still very much a problem in Corporate America,” Regina almost sounded amused by this, but there was an odd emptiness, a robotic quality to her voice and expressions.

“But you were head-hunted.”

“NAP was a closely guarded secret. After several months, and a bit of corporate espionage, I was head-hunted. Someone was finally smart enough to dig in to my background.”

“Neuroscience.”

“Yes, Agent.”

“Who did you speak with?”

“I’m not that easy, Agent. You need to wine-and-dine me first.” Again, as if she were reading a script, her tone lacked inflection. Levi wondered if there was more to her layoff than simple redundancy.

“Fair enough. You found something that would benefit the project though. A back-door, if you will.”

“You’re simplifying it a bit, but yes. The human mind can be manipulated with external factors. No need for a chip. Nothing confirmed, however.”

“Which you tried out on the beta-testing group.”

“No comment.”

“To remarkable failure.”

“Again, no comment.”

“Who are currently restrained in their hospital beds, trapped in their minds by a nightmare from which neurologists can’t awaken them from.” He tossed pictures of her victims, emaciated and straining against their bonds, across the table, seeing if he could evoke a reaction. Her eyes flicked to the photos, but she remained impassive.

“I do not know what you are referring to.”

“Agent. Please cease all further questions. My client has a right to an attorney, and she has been released on bail.” A faint Chinese accent underscored the new arrival’s statement.

“Bail? She doesn’t have bail.” Levi turned around to see a young man in an Armani suit striding up to him. The attorney handed him an updated court order. Bail for Regina Hawkes had been set for 50 million and promptly paid for by AdCorp. Levi pursed his lips – he knew a shell company when he saw one.

A guard followed the attorney in and released her from the hand cuffs. Finally, a small smile touched the probable traitor’s face. “I appreciate your time, Agent.” She peeked at her legal representative’s watch for the time. “And sleep well. I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.”

Thank you! I'm glad you liked it. I try to respond to one writing prompt a week. I put them all in r/MMRicain_ShortStories if you want to read more of my stuff. If you post any more prompts, let me know!

“Do I have to, Mother?” I did not wish to share my room with an alien – it was hard enough keeping my siblings out of my room. Now I’d have to keep an alien from pawing through my stuff too. And the breathing chamber took up a lot of space. They couldn’t even match me with someone who breathed our air!

“Yes. You are the only one who isn’t sharing a room. And this is an opportunity – First Contact is a big deal. You will be one of the first to show them our culture. Plus, her language skills aren’t bad – they did a good job preparing her.”

“Her?” I perked up a little. I didn’t know the alien we were hosting were gonochoric – the galaxy was filled with so many genders. It would be easier to relate to her, since I was a girl too.

“Why don’t you come meet her? She is waiting for you. Just remember, you are as strange to her as she is to you, and she is the one who is very far from home.”

I followed Mother out to find a bizarre creature sitting on the couch. A strange uniform skin covered her odd form – only four limbs, and a round helmet encased her head. The plate in front of her face was clear, and the weirdest eyes were staring at me. An almost perfect circle with a single pupil in the center ringed in blue and again in white. The only fur she had was sprouting from her head, in a stripe above her eyes, and short ones on her eyelids. The skin over her mandibles pulled back, revealing a top and bottom row of short, flat teeth. A smile, if I remembered the quick lessons they gave me when my mom signed me up for the exchange program. She did a formal - if awkward - dance of greeting. She missed a few steps, but it did require six limbs to perform correctly.

I remembered what I had been taught of human introductions and offered my right forelimb to her. Her smile grew wider – ew – and she grabbed my forelimb in her five-digit hand. “My name is Erica,” she buzzed with a strange accent from a speaker attached to her suit. My wings fluttered in excitement. “And I am Xllyzx! Come, I will show you my room.”

“I really like your stripes. Is it OK to touch? My gloves let me have tactile sensation.”

My mandibles clicked in consent as I pulled her to my room, and she ran her hand briefly over my yellow-and-black furred thorax. “Very nice!” she danced.

Mother’s compound eyes watched us disappear into my room, antennae sagging with relief.