Hive Knight: A Dark Fantasy LitRPG (Trinity of the Hive Book 1) by Grayson Sinclair (poetry books to read TXT) 📗

My eyes grew too heavy to hold open any longer, and I fell into a deep sleep from which I did not dream.

I awoke slowly, incredibly groggy, and my throat was dry as the desert. The glass enclosure opened with a hiss, and I tasted fresh air. It was sweet but did little to soothe my parched mouth. The technician watching me lifted a bottle of water to my lips, and I sipped fresh water until it was empty, and I could speak again.

The man threw the bottle in the trash and helped me out of the tube. Itchy dulled pain followed as the IV and other needles were unplugged, and then it intensified as they removed the catheter. I cursed them and tried to stand on my own, humiliated by their carrying me, but I took one step and sprawled to the ground, my muscles unresponsive.

Two attendants helped me into a nearby wheelchair, and I glared daggers at them. They wheeled me out of the room. Before we left, I turned and looked at the rows of tubes. Several of them were empty, but Sophia was still in there, sleeping peacefully.

“Where are you taking me?”

The female technician leaned down and smiled at me. “To get some food and water, as well as speak to the director. He’s anxious to make your acquaintance.”

I wanted to argue, but I was tired, and the prospect of more water shut me up. I was escorted to a room much further down. It was similar to the one that housed the Ouroboros Project. The same white tile. There was a stainless-steel table bolted to the floor and a single chair of the same material, the only other thing in there except for a showerhead on the far wall and a drain in the center.

The male technician stood by the door while the female wheeled me to the table. A pitcher of water and two glasses lay on the table along with a bowl of tomato soup, the reddish liquid steaming delectably. My stomach rumbled, but I was too tired to eat. I leaned over to pick up the pitcher of water but was too weak to lift it.

“Here, let me.”

The voice startled me, and I almost knocked over the water. I looked up to see the man who had told us about the project, the director, but on second glance, it wasn’t the same man. They looked incredibly similar, but this man had more gray in his hair and beard, more lines under his eyes. Maybe his older brother?

He poured me a glass and helped me to drink. When I’d drained it, he sat down opposite me and cleared his throat, motioning for me to eat, but I just stared at him, waiting.

He frowned when I refused. “Not hungry?”

I shook my head.

“Well, then, I’ll get to the point. I wanted to thank you for agreeing to join the program. With your help and the help of the others, I believe the project will be a success.”

I scoffed at him, to which he smirked. “A cynic. Well, you spent five years in that hellscape above, so I can sympathize, but you still have our thanks.”

His praise rang hollow in my ears. The look in his eyes also disturbed me, like I was something to be crushed underfoot—a worm, lowly and beneath contempt. He turned his head and spoke to one of the technicians who wheeled me in here.

”Did you deactivate his neural transmitter?" he asked.

The tech shook his head. "No, sir. You asked us to bring him to you, and we didn't want to waste time."

The director's eyes fell slightly. "I see. That's unfortunate." A hint of regret filled them, which quickly washed away.

He rose sharply in his seat, offering me his hand. I didn’t care for his words, or him. I wanted to leave, go back and check on Sophia. The sooner we get this charade over with, the better. I managed to stumble up from the wheelchair, my legs trembling with the strain to grip his hand. It was rough with callouses, and he wrapped his fingers tightly around my wrist and squeezed hard. Too hard.

It hurt, and I pulled to no avail; his hand was like iron. Panic-stricken, I looked in his eyes; they held remorse, but it died as he steeled himself. He reached into his lab coat and withdrew his pistol, small in his hands.

At the sight of the gun, I tugged even harder on his hand, but I was too weak. I couldn't escape. So slow, he raised the pistol, and I stared down the barrel. “What are you doing?”

“The transmitter we placed in your skull is far too valuable to waste on a lab rat. I wish you’d just eaten the soup. This would have gone much smoother,” he said and pulled me towards him. “You'll remember this, I'm afraid."

I fell off balance to land on the table, soup spilling over to dribble onto the white floor and pour red down the drain. The director placed the cold metal against my temple.

"Enjoy your new life," he said and pulled the trigger.

Chapter 4 - The Gloam

I bolted upright, stifling the scream that caught in my throat; gasping for air as I tried to calm my racing heart. For a long moment, I took several deep breaths until my heart quit hammering. At some point during the night, my hair had fallen in my face, and I brushed it back to discover it slick with sweat.

“Godsdamnit, just what I needed to relive,” I said as I stood up.

I must’ve passed out as I was on the floor, my empty decanter next to me on the stone. I picked it up and set it on the nightstand as the wind whispered