RP Run Boy Run

Ban Bean

Beatrice ran. She was invisible. She didn't know they would be able to see her on the security cameras.

She hadn't wanted to hurt anyone, but it hadn't been hard. The guards had come to take her for some test. Or another surgery. Or anything. And she didn't want to go. The past three times they had pulled her kicking and begging from her room they had hurt her. She still hurt, and so when they came she had panicked- using her power to blind and deafen them- rushing past them like a dog off a leash, sprinting down the hall barefoot while looking for the door. Beatrice looked up as she ran, trying to find an EXIT sign to guide her. Anything.

Her heart pounded. She needed to get out.

But now lights were flashing, and people would be looking for her. Nowhere was safe.

Beatrice darted around a corner as a few of the employees turned down the hall, doing her best to remain unseen. She kept running, balancing speed and silence on a precarious edge. Bea slid on the slick floor, and rounded another corner, entering one of the labs. A temporary haven until she could run away. She flattened herself against one of the cabinets, shivering in her scrubs.

She wasn't alone.
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Franklin had just been trying to finish the tests that Dr. Russo had asked him to perform when the girl ran into the room. He had seen the flashing lights, but those weren’t really his concern. He wasn’t security or anything like that, and the likelihood of anyone coming into the exact lab that he was in was astronomically low. Until she did.

She had been invisible when she ran into the room, but only sporadically. It was like she was struggling to control it. She looked young. Younger than himself by at least two years, maybe even three. Like most of the patients in the lab, her head was shaved, just starting to come back in as a thick black cap. She looked like she might be Italian, if he had to guess.

For a moment, he just stared at her, unsure of what to do. He was just here to finish these tests, to finish running the plasma samples and record the white blood cell count of the patients to make sure no one had developed any further illnesses after the young boy they had brought in last week had gotten half the patients sick. So far, the tests had been mostly clear, and he was almost done.

This threw a wrench in his timeline for the day. Clearly, he had to do something. But he couldn’t do anything to stop her, not really. He couldn’t do anything to restrain her, nor would he really want to. She was just a mentally ill girl with powers who they were trying to help. He could gas her, he supposed, but that wouldn’t really be good. Anyone who came in after her would also be gassed.

In the end, he looked at the centrifuge and sighed, standing up. He walked over to the doorway and placed himself square in front of it, his arms crossed as he leaned against the frame. He was tall for his age, already well over five and a half feet, almost six foot. But he wasn’t very big, so if she really tried to push past him, she likely would be able to. His grey eyes stayed focused on her as he ran a hand through his fluffy, unruly cloud of blonde hair.

He thought for a moment about whether he should say something, but he couldn’t come up with anything. Not anything that would really be suitable for the situation. So instead, he stood there, eyebrows furrowed and tightly knit over his eyes. All he had to do was keep her in place until someone else came by.​
The floor was cold on her bare feet. Her scars pulled taut and ached as she tried to control her breathing. Everything was too loud. Too cold. Too bright. She’d kill for a pair of sunglasses.

Through her squinting Beatrice saw the boy move. He might have been a year or two older, and had thick blonde hair, so very different from her shorn jet black locks.

She watched the boy with bated breath from her place on the floor, frozen and a terrified. If he yelled or gave away her position they’d find her and this would all be for nothing. She didn’t want to hurt him. He was wearing scrubs like hers. He was like her, wasn’t he? Wouldn’t he want to leave this place too?

Then he took a post by the door, blocking her exit.

Beatrice stood up and reached for the nearest weapon. A needle? A scalpel? She just knew it was metal and cold. She held it out in front of her. She pressed her other finger to her lips, warning him to be quiet, before gesturing him to move with her impromptu weapon.
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Franklin raised an eyebrow at the girl as she brandished a long metal vial at him. He looked from it to her, and then, as though he was worried about moving too fast, he shook his head. He had no intention of moving, and much less of moving out of her way specifically. He sighed softly and crossed his arms again, watching her. His teeth sank into his bottom lip as he considered his options.

Option A was to start hollering for someone to come get her. That would attract attention quickly. Option B was to step aside and let her past him. He couldn’t do that for obvious reasons. She was clearly sick and in need of help. Which left him with Option C–

“I can’t let you go. You need help. I know that their methods are sometimes harsh, but I promise, when you do get to leave, you’ll be much better. You should just go back to your room. It will be better if you do it without a fight.”

His voice was soft, just loud enough to be heard in the empty room. It was clear he was used to being quiet, that he was used to others making an effort to listen to him. Talking to her would stall her from leaving. That was the best he could do in these circumstances.​

Bea knew that. She was a freak with dangerous powers. It’s why her uncle has been so agreeable to getting her “help.” But this wasn’t okay. She needed to get out before they cut her open again. She couldn’t stay here forever.

Beatrice looked at him. Scrubs and all. He had to know what it was like. To be trapped here. Instead he was trying to convince her to stay.

Without a fight.

All she knew how do to here was fight. They had taken everything else from her.

Bea stared back at him with wide eyes and raised her hands, dumbly setting aside the vial. It wasn’t much of a weapon anyway. No wonder he was looking at her like this- like she was crazy and stupid. She just needed to placate him…

She took a step back, just enough for him to lower his guard, before bolting past him and into the hall in an attempt to keep running.
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The girl brushed past him, ducking under his elbow. Franklin acted on instinct and spun, wrapping an arm around her small waist. He wrapped his other arm around her as well and continued his spin. When he’d done a full three-sixty, he threw her back into the room. His breathing had picked up a touch, but otherwise, his expression remained unchanged.

“You don’t need to run. We’re only here to help you. What’s your name? I’m Franklin.” Maybe a full introduction would help. He was scrambling, internally, to figure out what to do. Realistically, he should just call for help. But that could, and most likely would, only serve to aggravate her.

His smile was a little sad when he put it on, but his voice remained soft and reassuring. “You don’t want to hurt anyone, do you? That’s going to be the only way you really get out of here. Or, you can be good, go through the tests, and get your treatment. I know of many people who have made it back into the world from here.”

Something began to press under his skin. He took a calming breath and tried to suppress it. He didn’t need it right now. This was just a scared little girl. A cute girl, but just a girl. She didn’t require full knock-out gas to contain. Just someone bigger than him.

“Come on. Why don’t we both sit down, and then when they come to get you, you go back easy, yeah?”
Before Beatrice knew it, the boys arm caught around her waist, firmly swinging her around, her feet off the floor, before pushing her back into the room, sending her right into the counter. Ow.

She looked at him with a glare.

It sounded so easy. So nice. Stay here, get treatment, and become normal again. Go back out into the world being like everyone else. It's what she wanted, and hearing that others before her had left was enough to make her pause. She knew it was a lie, no matter how much she wanted it to be true. She would have given anything for it to be true.

But people who cut up other people didn't usually let them go. Not without a shovel to bury what remained. But here was this boy...talking like she was crazy and not just using common sense.

He wanted her to go back.

"No," She choked, looking around for another exit or weapon, even if she stayed against the counter unmoving. There had to be something. "I'm not going back...I'm not going back." Beatrice swallowed her panic. She was running out of time. "Get out of my way, please. I'm not going back."