Escape.
The single impulse dominates your mind, all other thoughts pushed to the side and paling in comparison. You lash out at your caretakers, no, your captors with your claws, already slick with your own blood. You hate them, you hate everything about them. From their tests and needles to their pristine white labcoats (more red than anything else now, heh).They die quickly at your hands, their blood streaking your black feathers with crimson.
You dart through the building's hallways, breath coming in ragged gasps as you feel the stitches holding you together coming starting to come apart. You ignore it and press yourself to run faster, on all fours now. Pain was no stranger to you. Your bare feet slap against the white tile, leaving smears of black tinged blood in your wake and your nails marring the shiny surface of the floor with deep scratches. In your mad dash, you knock over a shiny metal table and the glasses and bottles on it topple to the ground, shattering a glass of something particularly foul smelling, it's contents now set alight by the sparks of your steel talons raking against metal.
You scramble away from the quickly spreading fire and round a corner, your wing glancing off the wall as you move, and there it is, your chance at freedom. A window, tinted and perfectly clean, just a few feet away at the end of the hall. It's such a contrast to the chaos and heat behind you. You hurtle forward, throwing yourself at the glass as hard as you can. Your bones protest with a sickening crunch, the sound resonating from somewhere in your torso, probably broken ribs, but you're too full of adrenaline to feel any more than a dull ach in your chest as the glass shatters and you topple out into dark open air.
The window was at least six stories off the ground. You weren't expecting that.
You snap out your wings and flap them frantically, only somewhat slowing your descent when, miraculously, you catch an errant updraft and you hold your wings steady, now gliding downward instead of spiraling out of control in a metaphorical ball of flames. Steady, steady. You hold back the urge to flap again and you're nearly to the ground, a dingy parking parking lot filled with bits of litter and a few stray cats looking for food in the trashcans.
You fall suddenly, the previously supporting air dropping you like a rock. You hiss when you lose a layer of skin off your knees to the concrete. That adrenaline was fading fast and your actions would catch up with you soon, in more ways than one. You get to your feet and hazard a glance around before stretching your blood-spattered wings out and flexing them experimentally. They seemed good to go, no noticeable injuries other than a few cuts, and most likely functional, if your wingspan was anything to go by. They held you up for a few second before, so why not actual flying?
Dave: Test out your totally badass wings ==
Dave? Who's Dave? You are Subject DS12-395, and while you suppose your wings could be considered badass, now just wasn't the time for that. You decide to properly test them out later, you had more pressing matters to deal with at the moment, namely, absconding the fuck out of this place.
Subject DS12-395: Abscond the fuck out of this place ==
Now that's something you can do. You take one last look at the building behind you, flames now licking up the side, then run full tilt in the opposite direction. Back on all fours, you sprint through the chilly night air with no particular destination in mind other than away from there.
As you leap over a dumpster in an alley you here a scream. You pause in your mad dash turn to the origin of the noise; it's a pretty young woman somewhere in her mid-twenties holding what looks like a can of pepper spray. You stand to try and see what's wrong, but duh, you're what's wrong in this picture. You probably look hellish in your generic torn and bloodied clothing, because, well, that would be a little off-putting on anyone. It's probably the wings and talons that scared her, or maybe it was the sixteenth century style plague-doctor mask stitched to your face. Yeah, it was probably that. Whatever; as long as she wasn't trying to kill you, you couldn't give less of a fuck about what she was doing.
When she frantically tries to grab for her phone and call for help, you flashstep over to her and gently place your hands on either side of her head, almost caressing her face with your blackened hands, then sharply jerk it to a ninety degree angle, a loud crack echoing through the night. As long as she wasn't trying to kill you or get you caught, you amend. Not wanting to attract any more attention, you dump the body in the dumpster, conveniently placed just a few steps away. Ha, dump it in the dumpster. Did that qualify as a pun? Probably not, but it's still funny. You wonder why the woman was even back here in the first place. Oh well, doesn't matter anymore.
Subject DS12-395: Hide in the forest==
Why would you hide in the forest? Are there even forests near here? You decide to get a better vantage point for yourself so you can get a feel for your surroundings. You climb on top of the dumpster you just used and hook your hands around the metal bars of the fire escape next to it, scurrying up the side of it as your wings wouldn't have fit on the inner part and this way was faster. Upon reaching the top, you leap off and manage to grab the edge of the roof. You hang there suspended for a moment before bracing your feet against the graffitied wall and push off while pulling yourself upward, allowing you to climb up onto the roof. You brush yourself off as you turn to get a look around. You were right on the edge of the city, fairly close to some suburbs. Perched on the edge of the building you could see quite a bit better. You decide you like high up places. You don't see any forests but there's a nice park not too far off in the distance, with what looks like quite a few trees.
You vault off the roof, easily clearing the distance to the next building. When you reach a distance too large to jump across, you simply leap to the ground two stories below. By now you could clearly see the park. It was bigger from here than it had looked initially and there were more than enough trees to suit your needs.
By now you could hear the wailing sirens of police and firetrucks as they rushed to aid the place that had contained your own personal hell. Hopefully everyone inside is dead before help gets there. The thought of the the people there slowly burning alive almost makes you smile.
You hide in the forest. You take your time wandering through the trees, which you guess could qualify as a small forest. Light is now starting to creep up over the horizon, coloring the sky shades of red and pink. You prefer the dark and the shelter it provides.
Folding you wings and tucking them neatly against your back, you scale one of the biggest trees and make yourself comfortable in the top branches, which rustle slightly when you move. You don't even mind the sticky pine needles since they hide you from the view of anyone who isn't directly beneath you. Funnily enough, this is the safest you've felt in a while.
