Day 2
It was 8AM when I woke up and had already had breakfast. The pain I had before didn't come back but I need to find my guardian about what happened last night.
My guardian's name is Erol and he happens to be the commander of the Krimzon Guard. He has pale skin with grey marks over his face and ears, symbolising him as one of the troops in the Guard. He has blazing hazel eyes and his hair is a copper-red colour, the ends sticking out crookedly behind him. He's quite tall as well, but no taller than an inch above me. Erol's personality is simply law-abiding, graceful movement, a workaholic and is often strict; and in some way has a 'silver tongue' and can be sneaky with some people.
Another thing too with my guardian is that he's my foster father, so I got adopted by him. He actually took me in when I was only three or four years old, and he's also my tutor—the kind of tutor that teaches you every common subject in regular schools, but with private supervision. And throughout my studies, I've gained confidence in learning whatever language is around the world, ancient or modern. Plus, my specialty in music got me to learn how to play the guitar, and it only took me five years to reach the seventh grade, when it usually takes about seven years for most musicians.
My guardian was the first person that came in my mind and I immediately went to look for him. My search began with his desk near the palace's archives, located near the botanical gardens. His desk was a bit messy with lots of pieces of paper lying around, but he's much organised on his things, like jobs, assignments and data filing. But my guardian was not at his desk at all, and the only people who were there were some of the Baron's scholars.
Speaking of data, a few papers caught my eye and so I had a small look at them. One of the papers I saw looked like a dossier along with several paragraphs of words on the description. Along with the file was a photograph that was paper clipped of some scary guy. Actually, it looked like he was some kind of monster or something. I put the whole thing aside, as this is not any of my own business; the analysis profile must have something to do with the project my guardian is working on, initialled: D.W.P. I don't know what it stands for or what it's all about, but then again, I may not want to know. So I thought I'd read the guy's description instead.
Dark Warrior Program: Subject #4
Name: Jak
Age: 17
Status: Active
That was a surprise! One of the D.W.P. patients is just as young as me (at least I know what D.W.P. stands for now). The photograph had made the guy look like he had pitch-black eyes, fangs and dark horns on his head that curved to the back. The description down the page had something to do with long, sharp, black, metallic claws that grew quite long, plus skin as pale as a ghost. This started to get freaky... It's almost as if the patient wasn't like the other four—there were five patients altogether in the D.W.P.—and that this Jak was some kind of demi-demon. And he survived through several of these experiments, even when it was my guardian's idea.
Erol had the idea of Dark Eco injections, which consists of having Dark Eco being pumped into your body. It's known to be a biological threat... or sickness—I don't whether it's one, the other or both. Theoretically, if someone has too much Dark Eco in their body, they can develop serious mental health problems, as well as physical harm, although most people have little immunity to this and have high chances of a fatality. But Dark Eco can also be a threat to the environment, contaminating a natural area like infecting animals, poisoning plants, eliminating soil and develop masses of mountain erosion.
I left the desk with the papers and the dossier so I could continue looking for my guardian. He's easy to tell apart from everyone else in the city. He joined the Krimzon Guard in honour the city's baron Praxis, promoted to commander three years ago, and is usually dressed a sporty attire with a chestplate with the K.G. crest on it and a facemask with two red lenses, lined holes for breathing and a strap that lets him put it over his head if you're not currently using it.
With some walking through hallways with steel walls, red carpets and bangers with the Baron's coat of arms, I finally found my guardian at the palace entrance outside, working as usual. I went up to him and greeted, "Morning, Erol."
"Good morning, darling," he greeted back under his mask, then lifting it up to reveal his face. "How are you today?" he asked me.
"I actually have a small concern. Do you know any illnesses that include symptoms like pain in the head, teeth and nails? I somehow got it last night."
My guardian raised a fiery-red eyebrow. "I wouldn't know anything about that. I'd go up to the clinic, but the surgeon hasn't been back for a quite a while." That could be a problem. My guardian doesn't know, and the clinic is unavailable, so who else should I seek out?
Then I realised that I haven't got the pain right now, so that made me think that the pain might have been temporary, or it could be a mental thing that people have when people spend too much time outdoors. "I'll have to look into that later." I said, wanting to change the subject. "Anyway, are there any duties for me to take care of today?"
My guardian replied, "There have been some concerns about break-ins at the Fortress. Some troops believe some animals may be the cause. Perhaps you can investigate that?"
"Sure, I'll just head up there straight away." I never realised there'd be break-ins at the Fortress by animals, and that's quite uncommon. Normally there are animals scurrying around the streets, playing games with their owners. I guess they might have gotten lost or something. And that's regularly handled by the K.A.C. (Krimzon Animal Control) although this may be a serious case, but I have to do my job, whether I like it or not.
Well, I guess that sounded a bit over empowering, but I can't just slack off.
7:30pm, Fortress Prison
Well, I've searched through the steel hallways, waited. Changed locations, waited again, and so forth. There was nothing The K.G. is a strong force, but even the most focused can hallucinate in some way. Citizens may see few in one area, but they are actually everywhere.
It's time for me the leave; I've already been in these metallic rooms for a few hours, and have worked past my normal shift. I was on my way to the exit doors, but then my got eyes caught on something on the security monitor in the surveillance room. The screen was viewing a young man taking his treatments out of some contraption that sparked purple electricity, and around him the two other men—my guardian and Baron Praxis. I wonder what they're doing exactly. I couldn't see the patient's face very well. All I knew was he was struggling uncontrollably.
I kept watching the monitor quietly without moving. The operation was finished and I got to get a clear view of the patient. He had blond hair and tanned skin, and was also wearing prison clothes made of sacks and a red headband. He seemed to be exhausted, as if he had been running for a long period of time—metaphorically speaking. He must have had a rough day.
I never realised that such an operation like this involved so much pain; all hooked up on a bench with built-in cuffs like you're in a madhouse with no hope of leaving. It looked like the operation room was a torture chamber! Despite all this, I kept watching as the Baron and Erol were discussing about what was going to happen next.
"He's surprisingly resistant to your...experiments, Baron Praxis. I fear the Dark Warrior Program has failed," my guardian said through the monitor.
Despite that statement, the Baron became enraged and took hold of the patient by the back of his head, angrily saying, "You should at least be dead will all that Dark Eco I've pumped into you!"
"What now?" my guardian asked with stress. "Metal Heads are pressing in on their attacks. Without a weapon, my men cannot hold out forever!"
"I will not be remembered as the one who lost this city to those vile creatures!" the Baron shouted, and then ordered, gesturing over to the patient "Move forward with the final plan! And finish off this...thing tonight."
"As you wish," my guardian approved. He then went to the patient and just said, "I'll be back later..." He seemed to have taken his order rather nicely. Then he and the Baron exited the room in silence, leaving that poor guy trapped on the surgery chair.
In a way, I somewhat feel a bit guilty, just seeing the patient suffer after what he's been through already. How is he even able to cope with all the pain he alone has experienced? Or is there more for him than meets the eye?
The night was growing late. It's probably time for me to go back to the palace. I just can't stop thinking about those lethal tests my guardian has running, and I know now that they are called the Dark Warrior Program. Erol did say something about Dark Eco being a unique element months ago, said that it can improve mankind. Something just doesn't feel right. Sure, people say that being weird in life is better than just being normal, and others go with the other way around, but Dark Eco? I think that's something that isn't unique or mundane, but rather fit somewhere in between—or somewhere off that particular scale.
I was out of the Fortress and walking through my way back to the palace, traversing through streets with rigid buildings, and ignore the zoomers from above me. Just as I had passed the security field that led to the industrial sector, mu headset was beeping, sounding like the message I have is urgent. I played the message.
"BE ALERT! FORTRESS HAS BEEN BREACHED! ESCAPIST IS ON THE LOOSE, DETAILED AS DARK WARRIOR PROGRAM SUBJECT NUMBER FOUR! LARGE REWARD FOR ANY INFORMATION!
A chill ran down my spine as the message ended. A Dark Warrior Program subject has broken out of the Fortress. I had a feeling that it might be really bad.
My mind was still on that last message when I reached the palace doors. The message said something about someone being subject four of the D.W.P. but I just couldn't get my head straight. But then I realised who it really was; the dossier, the photograph, the security monitor—it pointed to that one person.