One-winged Angel

Chapter One

The corridor was terribly silent. Only the tapping of our steps on the tiles could be heard. Usually I enjoyed the rare piece of silence I could obtain, but not this time. It was too awkward. Too… painful.

"Where are we going?" I mused aloud. "Father? Where are you taking me?"

I looked to him once he didn't answer. I knew he wouldn't. He never talked to me unless he definitely had to. Instead, he walked on, looking forward with his icy glare, blinking every now and then.

After a few more minutes of walking in silence we entered one of the less-used rooms. The rooms like this one were in the south side of the building where few people ventured. I'd been in a sparse number of these rooms. This one I was currently in wasn't one of them.

However, it was like the rest of them, monotone and filled with machines. The majority of the machines were computers, used for analysing the specimens which were held in an incubator-like room with glass walls for constant supervision in the centre of the room.

Specimens… Sounds cruel, doesn't it? I assure you, it's not. The creatures we analyse are mystical and new to society. We study them and send out our information, so citizens know what to do and what to expect if they ever come across one. Every single creature in our… I'll say captivity… is wounded. We analyse them while we help them to recover. Under no circumstances do we torture them or experiment on them.

"Good afternoon, Master Hiwatari!" greeted one of my father's assistants, swinging around on his chair.

I replied with a smile and a nod, before returning my attention to my father, who had made his way to the observing area. I jogged a couple of steps to catch up with him.

"Father," I began.

"Be quiet, boy!" he hissed, walking over to an unused computer. He sat down, looked at the monitor, typed something in and returned to my side.

"Sir," said one woman. "It's ready."

"Where did we get to last time?"

"Level four, sir."

"That's right. He resisted and did quite well. Move it to the next level."

"L-level five, sir?"

"Yes. Can't you count?"

"Y-yes, sir. But level five? Isn't that… a bit extreme?"

"Extreme? No. Level ten is extreme."

"Yes, sir."

"And don't forget that it was he who made it so."

"Of course, sir." The female returned to her post, typing frantically on the keyboard.

I opened my mouth to ask what was going on, but decided against it. I had spoken out of turn too much already. I didn't want to risk being punished again.

"This here, son, is a rare creature… vile… repulsive," Father spat. He tapped on the glass.

"I don't see a…" I said, squinting.

Father stepped forward, now just inches away from the glass, and knocked on it harder. "Up. Now," he ordered.

Something stirred in the corner of my eye. When I looked, I knew what Father was addressing. But I was puzzled. How could he have said what he did?

"He was asleep," I speculated.

"Who allowed him to?" my father roared. "Did I say he could?"

Nobody said a word.

"Father," I said softly, but I was ignored. He fixated himself upon the specimen.

"Never mind," he growled. "Level five."

I was still puzzled by what Father actually meant by 'level'. But I soon found out.

The creature in the incubator groaned, sinking to his knees and clutching his head. His eyes were scrunched up tight and I could tell he was in total pain.

"Next level," Father ordered and I knew what was happening: mental torture. Right at that moment, seeing his pain, one thought, one dreadful thought, echoed in my mind…

He's going to die in here.