R.E.N.A. Origins

Prologue- The End

     Rena woke with a start and sat up quickly. Her spine ached from the long nights of sleeping on the prison bed. Someone with an american accent spoke to her.

     "Up and at-'em, sweetheart." The guard, an old luxray with a chipped tooth and an eyepatch, smirked as he unlocked her cell, "Today's the day."

     Rena began to worry, for she had not a clue what he was referring to. She kept the weakness from showing and instead demanded answers.

     "And just what do you mean by 'the day'?"

     The guard chuckled sadistically, making her squirm internally. Unease quickly turned into anger. The sylveon wanted so badly to rip his throat out. Her fingers flexed and her ribbons twitched as she allowed herself to be shackled. Rena could escape quite easily if she wanted to, but Millia's well-being required her to stay hostage. She couldn't bear the thought of her girlfriend suffering more because of her.

     "Walk."

      The guard prodded her in the back with his baton. Rena seriously considered breaking every bone in his body. If only I could break out and get to Milly in time. She immediately wiped the thought from her head. A rescue was fantasy, for the CIA probably had tabs on everyone she loved. So she walked.

     As the luxray escorted her, he couldn't help but gloat.

     "Soon you're gonna be a happy little sylveon somewhere in Timbuktu."

     His remark confused Rena more than anything else. In what world is a prisoner happy? Her anger continued to brew.

     The guard led her down several corridors, each one becoming less dungeon-like and more clinical. They turned another corner and Rena could immediately tell she had arrived. There were at least ten guards, all armed to the teeth and trained on her.

     "What's this? Was threatening my love not enough?"

     Nobody answered her, and she thought about it. Why the extra security? Whatever they have planned, they expect me to resist. The Luxray's remark from earlier came back to her. Happy little sylveon, that could only mean...

     Her eyes started to glow as she broke the chains holding her shackles together. She began running towards the small army of soldiers, using the old guard as a flesh shield. She knew that the only way out was past them.

     They stood four wide in the corridor, shoulder to shoulder in rows of four, two, and four. Rena threw the guard at their faces. Just like bowling. She would have laughed, if not in total flight mode. She jumped over the entire group, using one of their faces as a springboard.

     Landing on her feet, she immediately fell into a sprint. It was thirty yards to the next corner. She had to get there before the soldiers started firing at her.

     Ten yards away she dared look back. She saw three muzzles aimed at her. Her mind went into slow motion.

     Five yards, she heard the first gun fire. It found its home in her left bicep, just a flesh wound.

     Four yards, images of the love of her life flashed before her eyes. She envisioned a ninetails in pink rubber boots and a yellow onesie, gently patting the dirt around a freshly planted geranium.

     Three yards, the second gunshot. This time she felt the lump of lead penetrating her right shoulder, shattering bone and making that arm useless. She gritted her teeth, she couldn't afford to let pain slow her down.

     Two yards, several guards fired at once, seeing she was about to turn the corner. None hit her, as they didn't have time to aim properly. Rena smiled, imagining they were storm troopers.

     One more yard, she leaned right, intending to keep her speed around the corner. A feeling of hope started to rise within her.

     As she rounded the corner, she felt an impact on her ankle. Rena thought nothing of it, as it barely pierced her skin. She ran down the short hall, turning left onto the next one. What she saw made her slow down. No! Not him! The flareon spoke with an english accent.

     "In a hurry, are we?"

     Rena growled. She would make him pay for what he did. For what he didn't do. As she advanced, her arch-nemesis calmly spoke.

     "You might wanna get that ankle checked out."

     As if on cue, Rena stumbled, falling on her hands and shooting blinding pain through her shoulder.

     "What did you do to me?" Rena demanded.

     "Oh, me? I did nothing. Someone shot you with a tranq bullet. They're what the CIA gives to trainees before they're good enough to use real bullets. So you were taken down by a rookie."

     Rena's vision was quickly fading to black. The glow vanished from her eyes, replaced with a look of defeat, despair, and hatred rolled into one.

     "Nighty night, darling."

     "Fuck you, London."

     He only chuckled as she slipped into unconsciousness, with the remaining guards arriving shortly after.

     "Alright, lets get her to the room and get this over with."

     The truth is, London didn't agree with what the CIA had in mind for Rena, but he saw no alternative. The only way to ensure everyone was safe was to eliminate her, but without killing her. The only way, in the CIA's minds, was to erase her memory.

Hope y'all like this one. I sure do. Rena is pronounced ray-nuh by the way.