Authors note: A new year, A new story - Happy 2011 ! I really hope you enjoy it. I have a significant portion of this tale written and hope to post rather regularly. I have taken the common story trope of a character being taken by 'mad scientists' and being altered to non-human but I sincerely hope my telling is not cliché. This is NOT PWP there will be NO Mpreg or slash. Common character parings are equated with general affection and 'pack mentality' and are not a precursor for dom/sub Yaoi. There are plenty of stories out there which cover that ground...this isn't one of them. Warnings are mostly for violence, mind-control, conflict of human & animal instincts, and borderline torture. This story takes place a half-year after endless waltz. Most of the events of the series took place as expected but there are some AU elements worked in.
Many thanks to Rein-kun who's aid and encouragement has been invaluable. Also accolades to my-ami-friend who has agreed to act as beta for the remainder of this fic. As a work of fan-fiction standard disclaimers apply. I hope you enjoy this as much as I have. Please read and review. ~windwraith
"Dragon Fei"
Section 1
This HAD to be some horrible joke. He was Chang WuFei, heir to an ancient warrior heritage, the last of the Dragon Clan. He had thought the hand of fate had already done its worst. It had taken his family and his people. His home was nothing more than rubble occasionally drifting across the space lanes. He had given everything for the cause of peace and when that day had come he had been left with nothing to show for it. The ever-fickle tides of public opinion turned on those, the people had so briefly hailed as heroes, demanding they sacrifice even more for the greater good.
The others decided to destroy their Gundams…send them into the sun as a sign of their commitment to the cause. He refused. He had already lost his Nataku once and could not bear to do so again. He tried to embrace the peace as the others supposedly had. He vowed to hang up his sword and relinquish his warrior ways. But one misstep cost him his freedom.
WuFei had no idea how long he had been a prisoner here. The inconsistent schedule, sleep deprivation and drugs kept him off balance and hazy much of the time. He had existed for some undetermined period, in state of restless disassociation and only now was he beginning to feel a bit more lucid. Only now did the impact of his situation sink in…Loosing everything hadn't been enough for them. Some soulless son of a sow stripped him of the one thing he had dared believe was inviolate…his humanity.
The word 'Monster' was the first utterance that sprang to mind but only because his thoughts shied away from the more accurate description. The irony was too cruel, too biting to admit they had made him…A DRAGON.
Not a noble guardian spirit like those which inhabited the pages of his storybooks as a child, those dragons had been powerful beings renown for their wisdom and strength. He was a pale imitation, a thing put on display to be gawked at; generally human in form but not in truth, irreparably changed into something…other.
He could not be certain the full extent of the changes that had been wrought on his body. It wasn't as if his captors provided their pets with amenities such as blankets, or much in the way of clothing come to think of it. He certainly wouldn't have access to a mirror any time soon. WuFei had never thought of himself as particularly vain, but he couldn't help but wonder how others might see him now. In an attempt to combat the slowly rising panic he began systematically cataloguing the alterations perpetuated on his person while he had been less aware.
If he were to guess he would say his eyes had not lost their characteristic almond shape, though he could not say if they were still darkest obsidian or more reptilian in nature. They were sharper, visually speaking. His need for reading-glasses was a thing of the past. Simply concentrating a bit brought anything he wished into startling focus, magnifying it more than he thought possible. That level of close inspection had revealed the first alterations made to his body. The skin on his bear arms and chest was the same honey toned hue it had always been but its composition had been altered on a cellular level. Now it was comprised of tiny scales that glistened as if oiled. It was also more sensitive able to detect small alterations in air pressure or ambient temperature.
His hearing was more acute as well and the changes that had made it so were less than subtle. Tentative fingers traced the shape of one his ears poking through his shoulder length hair revealed that the opening to the ear canal was larger. The folds had smoothed out making them cup shaped with a bit of a point at the top. The outside edge was no longer a gentle curve the scales there, were larger and more pronounced, making it feel a bit ragged.
The lower join of what had been his earlobe now possessed a pocket like indent. This added not only assed sensitivity to his hearing, it allowed for movement as well. His ears could flick, twitch and even swivel a bit to capture even the slightest sound. It was instinctive and he had little conscious control over the movement but when he clenched his teeth and squinted his eyes, he could get them to fold backwards almost flat against his skull. He imagined the overall effect was almost feline…with scales instead of fur.
Brushing his palms across his face revealed his high cheekbones and nose and chin seemed just as he remembered them; no change there, though he could flare his nostrils at will and detect even the subtlest of scents. Not that there were many in his antiseptic cell.
His jaw line was firm but it didn't taken him long to note he possessed a rather impressive set of fangs. The ones on the top were both longer and more pronounced but the lower canines caught his tongue rather unkindly as he grew accustomed to them—at least as much as one COULD grow accustomed to such things.
His hands looked just as he remembered them; long slim fingers ending in pearlescent nails. He could easily recall these hands were meant to be holding a calligraphy brush…or a sword. At least, they looked normal that was-until he flexed the muscles of his forearms a certain way, then curved talons extended from slits in the pad of each finger tip. He could imagine they could easily become weapons in their own right if given a chance—but his keepers would never permit that.
He vaguely recalled the indignity of being shot full of tranquilizers more than once so that his nails could be trimmed. That alone led him to believe the process to make him what he was had lasted some weeks if not months and in all that time his captors had kept him in a state lacking any shred of cohesive thought, unable to conceive of, much less execute, a plan of escape.
And now, that he had pulled himself together enough to consider breaking out, he realized how difficult it would be. His painfully shorn claws left his finger tips incredibly tender and robbed him of both gripping strength and manual dexterity. Lifting anything with any weight to it would be problematic, and wielding a weapon or picking a lock nearly impossible.
Yes, his captors definitely knew what they were doing.
'If only my tail would cooperate.' WuFei mused. He had a slim tail. It had a nice shape, serpentine and sensitive. The length of it was quite strong and he found the darkly iridescent scales esthetically pleasing. A prehensile appendage could be rather useful especially given the fact that that he did not have full use of his hands. Unfortunately, he could barely control the thing. It was like it had a mind of its own. And if it did, he suspected it was out to spite him.
At present it was twitching like an agitated cat. As best he could tell it seemed to respond to his emotions rather than conscious thought and no matter how carefully he schooled his features it revealed his true demeanor. He knew at least one of his captors had used it to gauge his mood…and the effectiveness of the drugs in his system.
Then of course were his wings. What pilot didn't dream of the freedom of flight? As enamored as he had become of his Nataku, in his heart, he knew the Gundam had been a soulless machine-a tool, the ultimate means to an end. With every fiber of his being, he yearned to soar among the clouds unencumbered by technology. His wings represented the one bright spot in this waking nightmare. He was physically capable of flight; he KNEW it, yearned for it. But even while drugged his captors never permitted him so much as to stretch the wings THEY had given him. WuFei felt the urge to growl rising in his chest fists clenched and the hackles at the back of his neck stood on end. It took conscious effort for WuFei to rein in his instinct and resume the clinical assessment of his condition once more.
He studied the hazy silhouette he cast on the far wall. It seemed his wings were generally bat-like in configuration extending from his shoulder blades; but there was some type of strap or band that kept them pinioned almost painfully behind his back. It was decidedly difficult to get comfortable in his small cell and the restraints prevented his wings from settling about his shoulders "naturally" so they kept getting in the way.
When musing about how liberating it must be to fly like birds, one rarely considers the practical ramifications of such things. WuFei couldn't even sit properly without cracking a wingtip on the tiles and shifting about to find a nominally comfortable position invariably ended up getting his tail in a twist. He supposed Maxwell would find that particular thought riotously amusing, but his tail was sensitive-and sitting on it wrong quite frankly, hurt! It would be simplest to kneel but he couldn't help but think that was a habit they wanted him to grow accustomed to, another indignity with which he had to contend.
His captors were watching and though he could not see them clearly he was well aware the plexi walls offered no protection from the pitiless stares.
Who they were or what they had in mind for him were unknown. But that did not change the fact that he was even now completely reliant on the whims of those who held him. The food he received was always drugged and his new body's appetites wouldn't permit him to forgo eating. He had no idea how long he would remain lucid. Memories from before were…hazy and growing increasingly more so. He was certain there were a good many things he had forgotten all together.
There had been a time when he could seek solace in meditation but now, that "state of perfect nothingness" his masters had trained him to strive for was a thing to be feared. If he no longer remembered who he had been there was no telling what he might become…what they wanted him to become.
"I am Chang WuFei." He told himself. His voice was husky and raw, whether from the changes wrought on him or merely from disuse, he couldn't say. A slight smile tugged at his thin lips and he didn't care that the expression now revealed the sharp point of his fangs.
"Not any of those annoying nicknames or irrelevant sobriquets 02 seemed intent on pinning me with. It is two simple syllables WU-FEI, why Maxwell refused to get it right is beyond me. But THAT is who I am and regardless that is who I shall stay." The end of his monologue devolved into a low growl and his tail twitched in agitation.
'Why don't they come for me?' his mind cried. 'Would they recognize me if they did…or would they simply see a beast that needed to be put down?'
His stomach clenched uncomfortably. Could he stand seeing revulsion in his companion's eyes? Those four were the closest he'd ever had to real friends. Their rejection would hurt far worse than anything his captors had done thus far.
The only thing he could imagine that would be worse would be the knowledge that they had already come for him…and fallen into the same trap like he had.
What if they were still here? What if they had been made into helpless animals too? With an anguished cry, he lurched forward pounding his fists on the clear barrier that imprisoned him. The growl became a rather impressive roar and the plexi rattled but his cage had been made to withstand such an assault. His broken nails scratched at the surface leaving marks but the effort clearly hurt him more than the barrier.
There was no escaping…and even if he somehow did manage it…where could he go...looking like this? Barton's circus might take him-they made a place for freaks didn't they?
When the keepers judged his 'tantrum' had gone on long enough the vents slid closed and the chamber filled with gas. WuFei's thoughts dimmed as unconsciousness enveloped him.
