It had been a few hours since I had seen any Erasers. This city was large and smelly, but at least I was finally free!
I ducked into an alley, exhausted from all the running. At least I might have enough time to explain things.
For as long as I can remember, I've been nothing but a test subject. I was nothing but an animal to the scientists. They did horrible things to the animals and kids who were the guinea pigs. From mixing cat and dog DNA to grafting DNA onto infants, toddlers, and kids, they were monsters.
The mutations they did to anyone and anything they got their bloodied hands on were beyond cruel. A few examples would be running from hours on end, pull weights that get heavier until they couldn't move them anymore, run pointless blood tests, and measure endurance and fighting skills.
The Erasers I mentioned are not the things that make pencil lines disappear. They're poor infants who have wolf DNA grafted into theirs. They're the guard dogs, strong and big, with quick reflexes.
These infants grow to adult size and intelligence by the time they turn one. They last a few years until their genes clash with one another, and they die from the impact. That's the best I know from what I've seen.
They look like supermodels when they're not morphed, that is. Their morphed form is all furry, with snouts and teeth and claws. They have a tendency to move and hunt in packs, which isn't easy when you're alone.
The sound of running woke me from my semi-conscious state. I peaked up from the clothes dumpster I was hiding in, watching as a woman skidded to a halt in front of the dead end. She swore, looking around frantically.
"Are you done running now?" This voice was male, with a sadistic smile I knew from the sixteen long years I was tortured. "Can I cut you up?"
"What do you want with me?" the woman asked.
"Why, to see how loud you'll scream as I slowly kill you." Yes, he was as bad as the scientists. I covered myself with the clothes, trying to block out the sounds. I hated this, feeling the life of someone slip from their body ... It was a horrible oily feeling. It's almost like a snake slithering across your hand, but on a spirit level.
I felt another life slip by, and I was suddenly grateful that I was in the dumpster, so the police wouldn't see me. I quickly changed out of my torn and ratty experimentee clothes and into something that fit me at least decently and didn't smell too badly. I figured that I was in a dumpster that belonged to a secondhand store.
It was a while before anyone came to the alley. I came to regret my decision to hide in the dumpster, because the second they lifted the lid and pulled me out.
"Let me go!" I snarled. Since they had me by my arm, I kicked them in the shin. I heard a sharp crack, but I knew I hadn't broken a bone. I yanked my arm free, hearing the click of guns.
I was blocked in. The alleyway was too narrow to open my wings and fly away. Yes, I have wings. They grafted the DNA of a black billed magpie into mine.
"FBI! Put your hands up where we can see them!" one of my captors demanded.
I understood perfectly. This was a crime scene by a serial killer. I sighed and looked at who I assumed to be their leader. "I didn't see anything, but I did hear two voices. I can assume that the woman was this guy's latest victim." I did a quick glance around, but I was cornered. "This killer is male, sadistic, and wants to 'see how loudly you scream as I slowly kill you'." I made little finger quotes around his words as I repeated them.
"Can you tell us anything else?" the dark-skinned man asked.
"Sorry, but I can't. I didn't look out or anything. Sorry." I shrugged and attempted to walk past them, only to hear a gunshot and a sharp pain up my leg an instant later. My leg buckled, and I went crashing down like a sack of bricks. "Dammit! What the Hell was that for, you jerkwads?!" I snarled, glaring up at them.
"You're the only person here, with a witness to the crime. We're going to have to take you in." Their leader turned around. "Morgan, Reid, take her into custody. We'll interrogate her as soon as we get to the station."
The two men grabbed my arms, startled by how light I was. "Do you eat much?" the younger, less muscular one asked. "You're awfully light."
"I eat more than any of you could imagine."I was escorted into the backseat of the car, where I was made into a mutant sandwich between two humans. "Oh, I really don't have an eating disorder."
"I'm finding that hard to believe." The skinny guy said.
If they ever knew, there goes any hope of living a semi-normal life. I sighed. "So, how long does this thing usually take?"
"It depends if you can answer our questions or not." The tone of the muscular guy made the conversation final.
I groaned mentally. This was going to be a long Q&A session.