Prologue
Time: 1600
Place: Area 51
The general set the papers down on the dimly lit, steel table.
"Eight weeks. So far Project: E-148 has turned out to be a general failure,"
"What do you mean a "general failure"?"
"Well for starters the DNA fusion worked. I mean look at it, the kid's got giant bat wings. But on the other hand, he's certainly no fighter. The only time I've seen him even the least bit aggressive is when he's transformed. Other than that, he's practically useless as a soldier. And besides, even when he's transformed he's nearly impossible to control and he destroys everything in sight. Not to mention he doesn't even know how to use his wings,"
"And whose fault is that, General?" retorted the shadowy figure across from the general.
The general leaned in closer. His face was hard and his eyes cold. "Not matter. I'm not happy with the results, Deathhorn. Not happy at all," the general replied. He said the last sentence through gritted teeth, as if it were the only thing that kept him from strangling the abomination sitting across from him.
The figure chuckled, unaffected by the general's scalding tone. "Oh General, that was only the first experiment. The first experiment is never the best one. Think of it as, a prototype. A first draft to the real thing,"
"I don't care what you call it, Deathhorn, I just want results!" pouted the general through gritted teeth in a deep, menacing voice. His iron first pounded against the steel table at the what and results.
"Oh please. You'll get your results. You just have to be patient. These things take time, General. Time. You didn't seriously think that E-148 was going to be your "Ultimate Super Soldier" did you?" retorted Deathhorn in an almost mocking tone, putting extra emphasis on time and said Ultimate Super Soldier like he were humoring a retarded child.
The general leaned back in his chair in silence and glared at Deathhorn. Oh, how he hated that over-sized lizard.
Deathhorn smiled at this, clearly enjoying his small victory. "It's simple. The first experiment simply tells us what we've done right, and what we can improve on. For instance; the DNA fusion was successful and worked beautifully, but we know now that next time we need to add a little more war-loving werehog DNA into the mix and less peace-loving werehog DNA into the mix. Plus, we need to add a DNA of a more… aggressive animal into the mix. A Flying Fox Bat wasn't the best choice necessarily. It's not like the beasts are violent in any sort of way," Deathhorn paused for a brief moment, collecting his thoughts. "And, as for the accelerated growth, that was a nice touch. That will certainly come in handy for our next experiment,"
"Next experiment?"
"Yes, the next experiment, you nimrod. E-148 was only the beginning. You didn't really think that E-148 was going to be the final draft to the Ultimate Super Soldier, did you? Oh no. No, no, no. E-148 was just an experiment to see what we can and cannot do, what we did right, and what we did wrong," replied Deathhorn, his voice dropped to an even darker tone at the last few words.
"Yes, yes, I understand that part, but what do you mean by the accelerated growth coming in handy?"
Deathhorn stared at the general like he was the most naïve, idiot on the face of the earth.
"General, are you that narrow-minded? Think, General. Think. Wouldn't an older werehog, with more experience, and better developed muscles and brain, be more powerful than a young, peace-loving, werepuppy?"
The General smiled darkly, his power-hungry eyes gleamed in the dim light like a starving cougar that had his eyes set on his next meal. As much as he hated, and he did mean hated, that over-sized, scalely, abomination, he had to admit, he liked the way he thinked.
"What do you have in mind, Deathhorn?"
Deathhorn grinned darkly, revealing a row of glistening, dagger-sharp, yellow teeth. His one clear-blue eye gleamed like a cat in the dark that made the scar that ran down from the top of his milky eye to the bottom of his jaw stand out more than ever.
Deathhorn pushed a small, red button on the table and a touch screen popped up in front of him. He typed in a file name and a picture of a gigantic lizard with huge jaws appeared on a screen just to the left of him.
"Have you ever considered adding a little crocodile to the mix, General?"
Trag
Time: 300
Place: HAC Labs
Project: E-157
Prof. Ash yawned and looked up at the capsule. It had been nearly six months since the successful creation of E-148 and the experiments had continued without delay.
"Sir, can we go home now? It's three in the morning. Can't we continue this at a later hour?" yawned a new scientist named Daniel Drakes, a humanoid lynx and cousin of Dr. Lynx.
Prof. Ash sighed and put his hands on his hips. "Unfortunately, no. The general wants us to finish it this tonight. Or at least until we finish this phase of the experiment,"
"And then we can go home?"
"Yes. And then we can go home and go to sleep. Your cousin and Dr. Dibs will take care of the rest as soon as we finish this up. And then they'll call us when it's finished to see if this one's a fluke or a success,"
"Ah. I see. Well, um, why does it need to be done tonight?" inquired Dr. Drakes.
"I don't know. The general's been rather crabby lately," Prof. Ash sighed and shook his head. "Honestly, the general's becoming almost as crazy Deathhorn,"
Dr. Drakes nodded in agreement and returned his attention to the keyboard on the capsule. A light blinked on the screen above the keyboard.
"What is it?" asked Prof. Ash casually and padded over to the keyboard to take a look.
Dr. Drakes punched in a few numbers into the keyboard. Something beeped and two of the lights blinked red.
"I-I'm not sure. Something's wrong with the DNA stabilizer," stammered Dr. Drakes.
"What do you mean something's wrong with the DNA stabilizer?"
"I don't know! A glitch in the system. Whatever it is, something's wrong. Very wrong," his voice was solemn and grim, like he had just announced the world was going to end the next day.
Prof. Ash groaned, frustrated and annoyed. "Step aside," he grunted and pushed Dr. Drakes out of the way. He frantically typed on the keyboard, the rows of endless numbers on the screen reflected off his glasses.
"It's not working!" said Dr. Drakes, his voice rising in pitch and panic. The fear in his eyes was impossible to miss.
"I know!" snapped Prof. Ash at the young scientist, his amber eyes never leaving the screen, with small beads of sweat dripping down the side of his face and onto the floor.
Suddenly a wild idea popped into Prof. Ash's head. One that would probably get him in trouble, maybe even fired. But he had no other option.
He typed in a command into the keyboard. "I'm shutting it down," announced Prof. Ash to no one in particular.
Dr. Drakes' muddled amber-yellow eyes widen in panic. "You can't do that! W-we'll lose everything! We'll lose everything we worked so hard on with this experiment!"
Prof. Ash whipped his head around to face the inexperienced scientist, his grey eyes burned with a deadly inferno that seemed to scorch Dr. Drakes to his very core.
"Do you have a better idea?!" bellowed Prof. Ash. Dr. Drakes flinched and turned his gaze to the floor.
"No," he muttered. He sounded almost exactly like a little kid admitting that he smashed the fancy vase in the living room.
Prof. Ash gave a curt nod and brought his attention back to the keyboard, typing in the final command to shut down the experiment.
At first, it seemed to be working, the lights on the control panel dimming and the humming from the capsule fading.
But it didn't matter. It was too late.
The capsule miracuasly started powering up again, stronger than before. It sounded like it was going to blow.
Prof. Ash's eyes widened and the spontaneous fire that appeared in them died instantly, as if someone had just poured a thousand gallons over it.
"GET DOWN!" screamed Prof. Ash lunged at Dr. Drakes, pulling him down by the waist and onto the floor. They hunched down, squeezing their eyes tight, bracing for impact.
It never came. Just when they thought it was going to explode into a million tiny shards and go soaring through the air and decimate in a fiery rain, it just stopped. The command had worked. It immediately powered down just at the peak of what Prof. Ash and Dr. Drakes thought it would explode in their faces.
The room was silent. Utterly silent. The power had gone out. It was as if the capsule had sucked every last drop of electricity out of the room. It was pitch black. The only sound that could be heard was the sound of Prof. Ash's and Dr. Drakes' own breathing.
"A-Are you alright?" breathed Prof. Ash, standing up. He couldn't see Dr. Drakes, but he knew he was right next to him. He could smell the young scientist's fear and feel the tip of his tail on his ankle.
"I, I t-think so," replied Dr. Drakes, his voice was coarse, but he was alright. Safe.
Prof. Ash nodded, even though he knew Dr. Drakes wouldn't be able to see it. "Good," breathed Prof. Ash. "Good."
Something had caught his attention. He tried to feel his way around. There it was again. That noise. It sounded like a small…whimper. He figured it could've been Dr. Drakes, but no, it was too small and too far away to be him. It sound like it was coming from…the capsule?
Nonsense. Scolded Prof. Ash to himself. But he kept going. Feeling his way through the darkness and to the capsule.
Something hard and round materialized in front of him. Prof. Ash felt around its sides. Definitely the capsule.
He felt around the base of it, searching for…he found it. The release button. He pushed it and the capsule opened with a slow swoosh. Prof. Ash imagined steam spilling out of its sides, pouring down onto the floor, making whatever came out of it even more mysterious and terrifying. Like in the movies. But that almost never happened.
The metal covering around the capsule folded into the ceiling and stopped with a metallic clinck! Then silence again. All except for that strange noise.
It was even louder now. A new scent wafted up to Prof. Ash's sensitive noise. He sniffed, unable to identify the scent. But it smelled…swampy. And Wereian.
"What's that?" asked Dr. Drakes cautiously. Almost afraid.
Prof. Ash didn't register the question until several seconds later. He shook his head, clearing his mind. "I have no idea," he reached his hand out towards the capsule. "Let's find out."
A sharp yelp of surprise made Prof. Ash gasp and quickly draw his hand back. The tip of his fingers had just grazed the edge of something…furry. Scalely.
The entrance to the lab suddenly opened and the lights flicked on. The general marched in with several soldiers all carrying assault rifles.
Prof. Ash took a step back. Not from the general, but from the capsule. Inside was a bright green werepuppy with vivid red-orange quills running along the top of its huge head like a mohawk and a long, scalely crocodile tail, and intense, pale yellow eyes.
"Prof. Ash, what happened?" demanded the general, his power-hungry eyes darting in every direction, looking the room over.
Prof. Ash didn't even notice. He reached his now shaking hand out to the werepuppy again, slowly and cautiously. His breathing had quickened and his neck was slick with sweat. Prof. Ash held his hand in front of the puppy's face, scared to move it any closer. It sniffed his hand for at least a minute, running its nose across every square millimeter of his hand before he finally licked it.
Prof. Ash cracked a smile, more so out of relief that it didn't try to bite his hand off, it being half crocodile and all, as it muzzled its head under his hand. It looked up at the Prof; it almost seemed to be smiling at him.
"Prof. Ash!"
Prof. Ash blinked, regaining his footing on reality, and turned his gaze to the general.
"Y-yes sir?" asked Prof. Ash in a shaky voice, his fingers slowly and gently stroking the top of the werepuppy's head. It licked his hand again.
"What happened?" demanded the general, saying each syllable slowly and menacingly.
Prof. Ash hesitated for a few moments. "Well, you see sir; we were finishing up Phase 2 of the experiment when all of a sudden something went wrong with the DNA stabilizer. We tried to shut it down after nothing else seemed to be working. At first, it seemed like it was powering down, but then it started up again, stronger this time, we thought it was going to explode. And," Prof. Ash paused for a brief moment before he continued. "And right before we thought it was going to blow, it just shut down. Completely. Everything shut down. And then I heard this whimpering, and, well," she looked down at the werepuppy nosing his hand affectionately. He looked up at the general again. "We found this,"
For the first time, the general looked at the werepuppy in the capsule. He smiled hungrily. "Oh. I see," he said, not casually, but like someone who had just been shown and offered a giant suitcase full of cash.
He stepped up to the capsule and loomed over the werepuppy. It looked up at the general, slowly and silently scooting away from him. He almost seemed to be glaring at the general.
The general grabbed the helpless puppy by the scruff and held him in the air, examining him closer. The werepuppy squirmed and kicked, trying in vain to nip at the general's hand or wrist.
"Which one is this?" asked the general casually, without taking his eyes off of the pup, who continued to fight his captor's iron grip.
Prof. Ash shook his head, trying again to clear his head. "Um, E-157, sir," he replied.
The general nodded. "I see. Well, is one of the ones with crocodile mix?"
"Yes sir," it was Dr. Drakes who answered. There was a small cut on his left check, but nothing serious.
"Perfect," replied the general curtly, refusing to take his eyes off of the werepuppy. It let out a sharp yip and then continued to growl and squirm.
"Well, you see fellows," the general turned his gaze away from the werepuppy and looked around at the people gathered. "This is what we're looking for: fighters. This is exactly what we're trying to get at. This right here is-"he never finished the sentence. The general had made the terrible mistake of lowering arm just low enough for the werepuppy to reach and snap at. The general yowled and screamed in pain as the werepuppy held on with its powerful jaws clamped tightly around the general's wrist.
He tried to shake the werepuppy off, spinning around the room and crashing into the walls and control panels and test tubes laid out on the counters, falling and shattering onto the grey floor. But the more the general struggled, the harder the werepuppy's jaws clamped down, blood splattering onto the floor, staining it with deadly pools of crimson.
A huge glob of a yellowish goo splattered onto the wall closest to Prof. Ash. It slid down like slow dripping, gooey blood.
That's a lot of spit from such a little fellow. Contemplated Prof. Ash. He froze. It wasn't spit. He peered closer at it; his grey eyes squinted in deep concentration. Then it hit him. It hit him like a freight train traveling at five hundred miles an hour.
It wasn't spit. It was venom. The venom of a werehog. Moon Venom.
Moon Venom was a deadly poison that grew in the back of a werehog's throat and could be transferred into its victim through the fangs, like a cobra. But instead of it killing the victim, it transformed them into a werehog as well. And many people agree it would be better to die than fall victim to a Wereian's maddening venom.
"General STOP!" screamed Prof. Ash. The general stopped for a very brief moment, his eyes wide with undisguisable fear. He stared down at the werepuppy clasping his bloody wrist. Small drops of Moon Venom were dripping down the werepuppy's huge fangs. The general's eyes were as wide as full moons; his pupils had shriveled down to a tiny black radish seed. He screamed, trying even harder to shake the werepuppy off. He knew what it was. He knew what it could do to a person. And that's what terrified him the most.
But the werepuppy only clamped down harder, making the venom travel down its fangs even faster.
The general's screams sent a thousand shivers up Prof. Ash's spine. His screams were loud and high pitched and…inhuman. Animal. Insane.
The venom was only a few millimeters away from touching the general's bloodied and exposed skin. Out of nowhere the werepuppy was yanked back and the venom splattered onto the floor. It released the general's wrist and let out a sharp cry of surprise from suddenly being yanked back. It squirmed and kicked for several seconds before it let itself go limp, glaring coldly at the general with intense, pale yellow eyes.
Holding the werepuppy was Dr. Drakes, his amber-yellow eyes wide with panic, his whole body shaking and parts of him slick with sweat.
The general was shaking uncontrollably, half from the pain, half from fear, cradling his bloodied wrist and letting out sharp gasps of pain as he stared wide-eyed in terror at the splattered yellowish venom splattered on the floor that had been only millimeters away from infecting him.
The werepuppy growled menacingly at him, its huge fangs dipped in scarlet, and then looked up at Dr. Drakes innocently and curiously.
Dr. Drakes swallowed; terrified that it would try to bite him too. But it just stared at him with innocent, pale yellow eyes.
Something told Dr. Drakes that it wouldn't hurt him, so he carefully brought the werepuppy in closer, his arms so shaky he was afraid he would drop it. He cradled the werepuppy in his arms, his legs shaking hard. The werepuppy cocked his head to the side and put its paw on Dr. Drakes' chest.
He let out a very sharp breath. The werepuppy put its second paw against Dr. Drakes' chest, trying to get closer to his head. He sniffed Dr. Drakes' chin for a few moments, then rested its head on his shoulder, nudging him affectionately.
Dr. Drakes let out a sigh of relief and gently stroked the top of the werepuppy's head with a shaking hand. It licked the back of his neck. Dr. Drakes couldn't help but smile and his shaking stopped. Other than the bloody fangs it was the cutest and most innocent thing Dr. Drakes had ever seen. Now he knew how Dr. White felt about E-148.
The general looked up from the floor, his back hunched over and his free hand cradling his bloody wrist, his eyes were stone cold and hard and unforgiving.
"Restrain that mutt and put a muzzle on it, a good strong one," he snarled, never taking his eyes off of the werepuppy.
Three of the soldiers standing by the entrance marched up to Dr. Drakes, surrounding him and the werepuppy.
Dr. Drakes could feel the werepuppy's muscles tightening and his body tense up, like he knew what was coming. He could feel the tip of its claws just grazing the tips of his fur as it unsheathed them, but it showed no other sign that it had noticed the presence of the soldiers.
One of them reached out and grabbed the werepuppy by the scruff, but it was ready. The werepuppy lashed out with thorn-sharp claws and clawed at the soldier's hand.
The soldier cried out in pain and dropped the werepuppy, but it didn't stop. It clawed and nipped at his feet and ankles and head butting into his ankles, knocking the soldier to the floor. And to add insult to injury, it jumped onto his belly and clawed through the soldier's thick uniform and raked his belly with its claws.
He screamed out in pain as the other soldiers tried to get the werepuppy off of their companion without hurting him.
One of the soldiers finally whacked the werepuppy on the side of the head with the butt of his gun and knocked it halfway across the room.
But it was hardly even phased. It jumped up and glared at the soldier and charged at him. It jumped up and landed squarely on the soldier's chest and clawed at it. The soldier screamed in agony. The werepuppy jumped on his shoulder and tore at his neck, and then raked its claws down his face relentlessly.
The third soldier reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a tazer and pressed it into the back of the werepuppy's neck.
It yowled in agony and fell to the floor, knocking the wind out of it. It staggered, trying desperately to stand up, but it was already surrounded by the remaining soldiers, all pointing their assault rifles straight at it.
The werepuppy turned in circles, growling and snarling, trying to think of a way out, to retaliate.
But the soldiers were already on top of him-literally- pinning him to the ground and binding his hands and feet in heavy, stiff iron cuffs and silencing it with a strong, heavy muzzle. The over-powered werepuppy kicked and squirmed at its foes as they picked him up and held him in the air.
Dr. Drakes stood by and watched. He hated this. It just seemed so…wrong. Punishing a newborn like this. But there was nothing he could do.
The general stood up at his full height-geez, this man was huge- and he stepped up to the squirming, bound werepuppy, looming over it. It stopped squirming and glared up at the general with intense, pale yellow eye filled with pure hatred-could a newborn really hate?-as a low growl formed in the back of its throat.
The general only chuckled at this and grabbed the werepuppy by the chin and forced it to look up him.
"You really thought you could get away with that? You really thought I'd let that go unpunished? Just because you just came out of the capsule doesn't mean you can get away with whatever you want," the general snarled at the helpless werepuppy. It jerked it chin away from the general's grip, but never broke its glare.
The general let out a huff that must have been a laugh. "Take him to Cell Block D. And keep the restraints on him, we don't want him hurting anyone else now do we?" he ordered and turned around and stepped towards the empty capsule.
The werepuppy writhed and kicked and struggled against the soldiers in vain as they led him away.
Dr. Drakes stared after the soldiers as they led the experiment away. He wanted so badly to help the poor thing but he was helpless to do a thing about it.
"And I want a restraint collar on him too!" yelled the general over his shoulder. Prof. Ash looked at him, disgust filled his grey eyes, but the general didn't seem to notice as he peered at the information on the computer screen attached to the capsule.
Dr. Drakes watched as one of the soldiers held the werepuppy by the neck and another strapped the restraint collar into place.
For a brief moment, it and Dr. Drakes locked eyes. It stared at Dr. Drakes with pleading eyes before it disappeared behind the wall as he was led away to his cell.
"Is all of this really necessary?" ventured Dr. Drakes without thinking.
The general whipped around and had Dr. Drakes pinned up against the wall by his shirt collar before he even had a chance to blink. "Yes, it is necessary. And it will continue to be necessary until it learns its place," he sneered, his breath was rancid and glints of insanity swam across his power-hungry eyes.
Dr. Drakes struggled in vain against the general's iron grip; Prof. Ash came up behind the general and put his hand on his shoulder rather roughly. "Enough. He's new and young. He doesn't know how things work around here yet. Let him go,"
The general swung around with his free hand and struck Prof. Ash square in the face. He fell backwards and readied his fists to retaliate.
"Can't you fellows go for five minutes without fighting about something?"
The trio turned towards the direction of the voice. It was Deathhorn. His hands folded behind his back and his back hunched over ever so slightly and a menacing smile plastered to his face, revealing two rows of dangerously sharp pointed teeth.
The general dropped Dr. Drakes and wielded around at Deathhorn with clenched fists. "What are you doing here, Deathhorn?"
"Coming to check up on the experiment. And based upon the soldiers down the hallway I presume it was a success, yes?"
"That is none of your concern, Deathhorn. Get back to your cell," ordered the general through gritted teeth.
"It's quite late you know. You should all get to bed," commented Deathhorn out of the blue, as if he had never heard the general's hostile order.
Dr. Drakes then realized how tired he was. But he wanted to see the experiment first. He stood up and cleared his throat. "I would like to see the," he coughed. "The experiment first,"
"Of course," answered Deathhorn and nodded.
Dr. Drakes silently slipped past Deathhorn and out the door to follow the soldiers. Deathhorn watched him go out, and then turned to Prof. Ash.
"You should get some sleep. We'll take care of things here,"
Prof. Ash blinked, taken a little off-guard, but quickly recovered. "Oh, um, thank you," he replied and walked out of the room, closing the metal door behind him.
Deathhorn turned back towards the general. "I thought we agreed that you wouldn't do anything irrational,"
"That was not irrational,"
"No? Attacking one of your new scientists for asking a near harmless question isn't irrational?"
"He was questioning my authority!"
"No, he wasn't. He was questioning if it was really necessary to punish the experiment like that. You were a bit harsh on the thing, you know,"
The general sniggered mockingly and spit out of the corner of his mouth, leaving a crimson stain on the floor.
"That's funny coming from you,"
"At least I didn't muzzle and torture newborns," retorted Deathhorn. His patience was running thin.
"No, but you came pretty close,"
Deathhorn glared the general. His patience had run out. "General, I have very little patience for insolent fools. Don't try me,"
The general only guffawed. "Oh please. You don't scare me. I'm not one of your little helpless test subjects, you know,"
"Yet,"
The general's smile faded and was replaced with a glare. "Get back to your cell before I have you escorted there like E-157,"
Deathhorn only shrugged. "Whatever," he replied curtly and slowly padded towards to the door.
Just before he left the room he said one last final thing. "Oh, and general,"
"What?" responded the general, clearly annoyed that Deathhorn hadn't left yet.
"Watch your back," he said and left the room. "You just might lose it," his last words were even darker and more ominous.
The general shivered. He hated that over-sized lizard.
Fool. Thought Deathhorn. The general was such an idiot. Everyone already hated him, especially the new experiment. And, he wondered, how many more coals would it take for that fiery hatred to burn out of control?
He smiled wickedly. Oh, revenge would be his, and it would be ever so sweet.
The werepuppy writhed and struggled in the soldiers' firm grip. They were leading him through a hallway void of any color that had no signs of any life whatsoever. He let his body go limp and let the soldiers take him to wherever they were taking him. He knew that fighting right now was going to get him nowhere. So for now, he might as well enjoy the ride.
He stared at the floor, angry at the man with the crazy eyes and rancid breath for picking him by the scruff and then ordering a bunch of pipsqueaks to tie him up and put some weird thing over his mouth. He hated that thing the most. He could barely even open his mouth, let alone tear these losers to shreds. But then again that was probably the point.
The group of soldiers stopped in front of a huge steel door blocking the way. One of the soldiers from behind him walked up to the door, slipping a security card out from his belt, and swiped it down the slot on the security lock. The light turned green and the door slid open.
He expected to see a row of doors with bars over the windows, but he was surprised when he saw another huge steel door ten feet away. The walls were dark grey and the only light came from a large window about six feet above the ground. Inside was a man-probably in his fifties or sixties-with grey-black hair combed tightly to his near-bald head sitting behind a control panel drinking a cup of coffee.
One of the soldiers cleared his throat rather loudly. The man behind the glass looked up and at the soldier. He pulled out his security card and held it up for the man to see. He leaned forward in his seat and squinted at for several heartbeats, then nodded and pushed a button on his keyboard. The door in front of them opened and the soldier smiled and nodded. The man behind the glass nodded and smiled as well, and just when he was about to turn his attention back to whatever it was he had been working on, he caught a glimpse of the werepuppy. His face was flooded in confusion and he turned back to the soldier who had shown him his security card. The soldier shrugged and stared at the man for a moment. There seemed to be some kind of silent communication between the two, but the man seemed to understand, and returned his attention back to whatever he had been working on.
They kept moving. He really wished they would at least let him open his mouth; take this thing off of his face. But after what he had done to the man with the crazy eyes and rancid breath it probably wasn't going to happen. But it only left him to wonder how anyone could stand the guy. He had been in the room with him for less than ten minutes and he already hated his guts.
They lead him down a hallway that was just as void of color and life as the last one, only real difference was that in this one the walls were lined with thick white steel doors with a tiny barred window near the top. But they kept walking. And walking. And walking. And more walking. And even more walking. He had almost fallen asleep by the time they had stopped by one of them and were opening the thick steel door. They stepped inside and the soldiers threw him onto the rather hard bed and locked the door behind them, leaving him alone.
Now was his chance. He struggled and writhed and pulled and twisted and turned, trying to get the cuffs and muzzle off, when suddenly the door opened.
It was Dr. Drakes-at least that's what he thought his name was-stepped inside and stared down at the werepuppy not unkindly. The werepuppy looked up him and stopped struggling for a moment, then continued.
Dr. Drakes sat on the bed with him and put his hand on the werepuppy's chest and gently pushed down. He looked up and locked eyes with Dr. Drakes. Dr. Drakes smiled warmly at him and pulled a pair of keys out of his pocket. He gently held up the werepuppy's cuffed hands and unlocked them, then he unlocked his feet, and finally, he undid the latch for the muzzle.
At first, the werepuppy just stared up at him, his little black nose twitching, and then he settled into Dr. Drakes' lap and quickly fell asleep.
He smiled and gently stroked the top of the werepuppy's head.
You're not a monster are you. Reflected Dr. Drakes. It was more of a statement rather than a question. He recalled when the werepuppy had rested its head on his shoulder.
He needed a name. It felt weird calling him by a number, and strangely…wrong. Huh, maybe that was why Dr. White called E-148 E instead of his full number.
"You'll get in trouble for doing that you know,"
Dr. Drakes jumped and whipped around, rousing the werepuppy in his lap. It was Prof. Ash. He was standing in the doorway leaning against the wall with arms crossed. His face was unreadable and his eyes expressionless.
"Oh, um, you startled me," stammered Dr. Drakes.
"You left the door open,"
"Oh, I, um, I did?"
"Yes,"
"Oh. Um, woops,"
"You should just be careful Daniel; you could get in a lot of trouble for doing that, believe it or not,"
"Huh, you've never called me Daniel before,"
"Well, I'm starting now," he sighed and sat down on the bed next to the young scientist. "And you could also get in a lot of trouble for unlocking the experiment from his bindings,"
He sighed again and sat down next to the young scientist. "I like you Daniel. I really do. Which is why I think I should warn you about a couple of things,"
"Warn me?"
"Yes, warn you. There's a lot about HAC you need to know," his voice was grim and his expression solemn. The werepuppy had crawled off of Dr. Drakes' lap and onto Prof. Ash's, nudging his hand until he lifted it high enough for him to creep under it a settle down. Prof. Ash rubbed its back gently and the werepuppy licked the sleeve of his pure white lab coat in return. Prof. Ash couldn't help but smile.
"First thing is that the general is not very patient, and quite recently, he's been, how shall we say, losing his marbles a lot lately. So it is best to stay out of his way," he scratched the werepuppy behind one of his pointed ears. "I mean, just look what happened to this little fellow. He bit the general's wrist and now he's locked in a high security cell and is-excuse me-was bound by heavy restraints and a muzzle,"
Dr. Drakes nodded and stared down at the floor. He hated how the little guy was being treated. Less than ten minutes out of the capsule and he was already being treated like a dangerous animal.
"Second, do not cross paths with the cornel either, he's quite nasty, and, he hates Wereians, and, well, Packians and even Clanians in general, because of an unfortunate accident that occurred quite some years ago, that's where he got that scar on his face. But never ask about it, that's just begging for trouble,"
"Third, no messing with the successful experiments. And when I mean no messing with them, I mean no giving them privileges the general doesn't want them to have. Like, um," he looked down at the sleeping werepuppy. "Releasing them from their restraints when they're not supposed to be released,"
"Oh, um, sorry. I-it just felt so, so wrong to leave him like that. I mean, the poor guy could barely move,"
Prof. Ash sighed and put his hand on Dr. Drakes' shoulder. "I know. I know. That's what I like about you, Daniel. You're willing to do the right thing even if it goes against the rules," he turned and smiled at him and patted his shoulder. "It shows your integrity. And I like people with integrity. You just need to be careful," he was just about to get up when he suddenly sat back down.
"Which reminds me. There's one more thing you need to know. Watch out for Deathhorn. He's unpredictable and dangerous. He has a bad history and you almost never know what he's going to do,"
"Alright. Yes, I've heard some pretty bad things about him. Is he really insane?"
"More or less. But he's a brilliant scientist, I'll give him that. And that's what makes him so dangerous,"
"How does being a brilliant scientist make him so dangerous? Because from my point of view, it looked like those claws of his could do quite a bit of damage, and those big horns of his,"
"That's true, but it's his mind you should really be scared of. He's a lot smarter than the general, and a lot stronger, granted. Don't tell him I said that,"
"Tell who? The general or Deathhorn?"
"Both. But you really need to be careful of Deathhorn. He plays games with your mind. He's very crafty. Just be careful around him. Be cautious, but open,"
"Open?"
"Yes, open. He may be crafty and dangerous, but sometimes it's a good thing to have him on your side. Like I said he's really a brilliant fellow, dangerous and twisted, but brilliant,"
"Alright, I'll be careful around him, but open,"
"Good,"
"OK, so is there anything else I need to know?"
"Well yes, but the rest is more of common sense. Don't leave the coffee machine on, don't come to work in your underwear, don't wear black socks with flip flops, don't take Dr. Lynx's lunch, don't ask Dr. White unclog the toilet for you, don't, and I mean don't insult or say anything bad about E-148 or call him by his number around her, don't leave the doors open, don't hit on Mrs. Sue, and you'll be alright,"
Dr. Drakes laughed. "Why do I get the feeling some of these things have happened?"
Prof. Ash hesitated. "Because most of them have,"
"Some came to work in their undies?"
"Yes. Though it was quite funny,"
"And someone hit on Mrs. Sue?"
"Yes. Oh my, that did not go down well. He ended up in a full body cast for six months,"
"My, I guess she can be pretty dangerous herself, can't she?"
"Oh yes. They should have hired her as a security guard,"
They both laughed. Even the werepuppy seemed to be giggling.
"And about the other stuff?"
"Oh, some idiot decided to eat Dr. Lynx's lunch and he thwacked him on the side of the head with a mop and locked him in the janitor's closet for the rest of the night. One of the other scientists asked Dr. White to unclog the toilet and she gave 'im a good kick between the legs and a hard slap in the face and did everything in her power to make the rest of the week for that fellow a living hell. And a few people said some pretty bad things about E-148 or called him by his number instead of his nickname and Dr. White got her revenge on each of them in some way or another. And let me tell you, it was never pretty. She's very…passionate, about E. So you have to watch what you say about him around her, and everywhere else for that matter. There are eyes and ears everywhere,"
Dr. Drakes laughed, knowing it was meant to be a joke. But he had caught the hidden warning in it. They were probably being watched right now.
"OK, I'll remember that," laughed Dr. Drakes and looked down at the werepuppy sleeping peacefully in Prof. Ash's lap and yawned, remembering how tired he was.
"We should probably get some sleep. We'll have a big day tomorrow," said Prof. Ash.
"Yeah, we probably should, and, what do you mean it's going to be a big day tomorrow?"
"Well, seeing as how this little fellow attacked the general, it could become a matter of whether or not it should be terminated,"
"Oh," Terminated. The word pounded away at Dr. Drakes' mind, making him feel sick. Terminated.
The werepuppy's ears perked. They were talking about him. He looked up and locked eyes with Prof. Ash, at least that's what he thought the wolf's name was, his intense pale yellow eyes full of worry, as he had understood every word of the conversation.
Dr. Drakes reached out and scratched behind the werepuppy's right ear. It smiled. It was actually smiling. Dr. Drakes smiled back and scratched the area between its head and neck. The werepuppy closed its eyes and smiled, its tail wagging and his left leg kicking in pleasure.
Dr. Drakes laughed. Man, werehog puppies were cute! No wonder Dr. White liked E-157 so much. He'd only had a few run-ins with the kid, but he could say he liked him. And he was pretty cute.
This reminded him; he had beef jerky in his pocket. "You hungry little fellow?"
The pup immediately sat up and stared at Dr. Drakes longingly. When Dr. Drakes stayed still, the pup glanced at his lab coat pocket and then back at him.
Dr. Drakes smiled and pulled a piece of beef jerky out of his pocket and held it out to him. He sniffed it and then devoured it in one quick gulp. He crawled onto Dr. Drakes' lap and put his paws on his chest and rested his head on his shoulder, nudging him affectionately.
Dr. Drakes almost cried. This was the sweetest thing he'd ever met.
"He's and intelligent little fellow,"
"Huh?"
"How did he know that the beef jerky was in your pocket?"
"Um, I don't know, maybe he smelled it?"
"Maybe. But he's definitely no idiot,"
There they were, talking about him again. And commenting on how smart he was. At least some people got it. He had a feeling he was going to like these two.
"What do you mean?"
What do you mean "What do you mean?" Come on! How many pups can outsmart three soldiers and whoop their sorry butts in the process?
"Well, you saw what he did to those soldiers. How many pups know to go for the eyes and belly of their opponent?"
Thank you!
"I suppose so,"
What do you mean "I suppose so,"? Come on, dude! Put it together! I'm not your average werecroc here!
"You, know that reminds me, he needs a name,"
A name?
"A name? Yeah, I was just thinking the same thing. What should we name him?"
Prof. Ash paused for a moment, racking his mind for a good name. "How about Trag?"
Trag?
"Trag?" asked Dr. Drakes and raised an eyebrow in confusion.
"Yes, it's Decorian for 'spirited fighter'. What do you think?"
"Trag. I like it. It suits him," he looked over at the werepuppy, who smiled back at him with a new light in his eyes. "Trag," he whispered again, half to himself. The werepuppy nudged him affectionately.
Prof. Ash smiled. "We should probably get some sleep now. Come on, let's go," and with that Prof. Ash stood up and left the room.
Dr. Drakes glanced over at the werepuppy on his shoulder. He smiled at it and it smiled back innocently. He kind of reminded him of E. Sorta.
"Alright little guy, time to get some shut eye," said Dr. Drakes as he lifted the werepuppy in the air and set him on the bed. He didn't struggle, just let Dr. Drakes lower him down into the bed and pull the covers over him. He settled in and smiled up Dr. Drakes as left the room. The young scientist stopped right outside the door and smiled back at the tired werepuppy.
"Good night, Trag," he whispered and closed the door.
The following morning Trag's number was tattooed on his right arm and he was fitted for a tracking anklet and a restraint collar. As much as Dr. Drake hated it, he knew there was nothing he could do to stop it. But the general had allowed him to be the one to care for Trag (since no one else would take the job), and the general had cooled off a little bit and his wrist wasn't too seriously damaged. But he still had Trag kept in D Block and had him under supervision at all times.
"Trag! Trag! Breakfast!" called out Dr. Drakes as he stepped up to the thick steel door to his cell. Just as he was about to reach for the door handle a guard shifted his gun to block him.
"What? I'm just getting him his breakfast," snapped Dr. Drakes, annoyed at the amount of security there was over Trag.
The guard raised an eyebrow and then shrugged and stepped aside.
"Thank you," said Dr. Drakes and opened the door with his key.
"Trag! Trag! It's breakfast time!" he called out again. Trag jumped out of the covers and looked from the right to the left and then turned around and saw Dr. Drakes and ran up to the edge of his bed and wagged his tail.
Oh boy! Breakfast! What is it today? Bacon? Ham? Steak? Oh, wait no, is it ostrich meat?
"Alright Trag, guess what I have for you,"
Please be ostrich meat. PLEASE be ostrich meat!
He held up a huge hunk of fresh red meat. "Ostrich meat,"
YES!
"Dig in!" said Dr. Drakes cheerfully and dropped the slab of meat on the bed. Trag jumped back only to go plunging into the succulent meat, tearing at it viciously as if he hadn't seen food in over year. Man, that thing was almost as big as him!
Dr. Drakes was amazed at how fast he finished it. Within five minutes the ostrich meat was gone and Trag plopped down on his back holding his belly and let out a loud burp. He looked up at Dr. Drakes and smiled, then plopped his head back on his pillow.
He laughed. That was an impressive burp. "Nice one, Trag! Geez, you were hungry,"
Dude, it's ostrich meat. It's that good. Got any more?
"Ah, Dr. Drakes, there you are. I was just coming to get to get you. We need to talk,"
Dr. Drakes jumped and spun around. It was the cornel.
Trag glared at the cornel and growled. Ugh, I hate this guy.
"Oh, cornel, I was just, um, bringing Trag his breakfast," he let out a nervous laugh. The cornel always had a way of making him feel uneasy.
"Oh, of course, of course. So, his name is Trag now, eh?"
"Um, yes. Y-yes it is, um, sir," stammered Dr. Drakes.
Oh, come 'on, let me at this guy. I'll tear him to shreds!
"Hm. Yes. Come here you little beast, let me get a look at ya," he reached out with his hand, Trag growled and stepped backwards, away from the cornel's outstretched hand until he reached the edge of the bed. The cornel grabbed his scruff and held him in the air just close enough for him to get a good look at him, but far enough away that he couldn't hurt him.
Trag growled and yipped and kicked and writhed in his steely grip, his intense pale yellow eyes locked in a glare pointed straight for the cornel.
Put me down dung-brain! Put me DOWN!
"I-I wouldn't, do that if I were you," warned Dr. Drakes, his voice was shaking.
Trag let out a sharp bark. "Oh, please," he grabbed Trag by the chin to examine his face. Trag glared at him, his pale yellow eyes burned with pure hatred. "He wouldn't be stupid enough to try to hurt me,"
Wanna a bet?
"Please cornel, just put him down. It would be better not to take any chances,"
"What's the point in being a soldier if you don't take any chances?"
I said, put me DOWN!
Trag lashed out with his claws and raked down the cornel's face square on his scar, reopening the old wound. Drops of pure crimson splattered everywhere and fell onto the floor and spattered onto the wall. A thick, scarlet line cut through his unshaven face, like someone had taken a paint brush and ran it across his face in one, swift stroke. He cried in agony and fell to the floor with a loud CRASH! Trag lashed out again, clawing his nose this time; it was a good, clean cut. Beautiful.
I warned you. Never underestimate a werecroc.
The soldier rushed in and thwacked Trag in the side of the head and knocked his off of the cornel and against the wall.
He shook his head and glowered at the soldier, his huge, dagger-like teeth gritted and his eyes blazing.
You did NOT just whack me with that gun. You hit me, I hit you. Prepare for a major lesson in head injuries, soldier.
He clawed at the floor to anchor himself, and then he charged at the soldier with the gun, jumping in air, using the cornel's body as a trampoline, and landed squarely on the soldier's face. He drug his back claws into his shoulders and clenched his hands in tight fists and punched the soldier's helmet with every ounce of strength he had and shattered the glass protecting the soldier's face. Until now. A few shards dug into the soldier's face along with Trag's fist. He probably broke his nose. At the very least made it bleed. But he wasn't finished. Not even close. He punched him again. This time for sure broke his nose. He lashed out again, this time with his claws and pulverized what little bit was left of the soldier's face, especially his eyes.
More soldiers rushed in, all carrying assault rifles and machine guns. But he didn't stop. He didn't care. He just didn't care. He kept clawing away at the soldier's face. There really wasn't much left of it, though. But it felt so good. He just kept clawing. Clawing and clawing and clawing away at the man's face, hunks of bloody flesh flying across the room. Trag's hands and claws were drenched in crimson, some of which had splattered onto his face as he hacked away at the man's face.
A gunshot fired, making Trag jump and stop. It had missed. But for all he knew it maybe wasn't aimed at him. Doubtful, but it helped him keep it together. But it didn't really matter; because a heartbeat after the gunshot fired Trag was thwacked in the side of the head again. Hard. Much harder. He crashed into a nearby wall and collapsed on the floor. His head hurt. Really, really hurt. His head throbbed; it felt like someone was using his brain as a drum, the noise from the poundings hurt just as much as the actual throbbing. Was the noise really real or was it all in his head? He couldn't tell. It didn't really matter anyway. The only thought on his mind right now was that he had to get up and keep fighting. That was all that mattered right now. To keep fighting.
He tried to get up, but the millisecond he even tried to move a muscle it sent a million waves of pain coursing through his body. He let out a sharp yip and then fell back on the ground with a whimper. But he tried again anyway. It was either keep fighting or die anyway. But given the circumstances he was probably going to die either way you looked at it. But if he was going to down, he was gonna go down fighting. He tried to get up again, even though it sent thousands of waves of agony through his body, and managed to get on his hands and knees before he was thwacked in the side of the head again. Almost as hard as the last time. He didn't try to get up this time though. He couldn't even if he'd tried. His head hurt. But it almost seemed to be…fading. Maybe not fading, just…worse. Like when you get so cold you start to feel warm. Is it possible to be in so much pain that it actually started to feel good? Well, maybe not good per say, but more of go away. Too bad the exhaustion couldn't go away too. Now that would be great. Just super.
He lifted his hand in front of his face. He knew it should probably hurt, but it didn't. It just felt so…numb. His vision started to split. How many hands did he have? Then blur. Was his hand even there? He was vaguely aware of his hands being cuffed behind his back and his legs chained together. And that weird thing put over his mouth. Ugh, he hated that thing. He could barely even open his mouth without running into the dung thing. He was lifted up into the air, well, sort of; he was half carried, half dragged out of his now bloody cell and out into the hallway.
It was chaos. Doctors were running everywhere, soldiers too. Scientists here and there. Huh, he half expected to see the Navy or something. He watched as the cornel and the soldier whose face he had hacked away at lifted onto gurneys and quickly carted away down the colorless hallway. He was lifted onto a gurney too, but was rather thrown onto it more than anything. He groaned. At least he thought he groaned. He was having a hard time hearing too. And it felt as if his sense of touch had abandoned him, he felt as if he were floating on thin air.
It must be loud in there, but he really couldn't tell. That thwack must have knocked his eardrums along with his sense of touch. But he was smart enough to tell it must be noisy in there. There was faint humming in his ears. That was the only real indication that there was any noise whatsoever.
His position was shifted by a couple of soldiers. They laid him on his back and started strapping long leather, well, straps around his body to help restrain him. He didn't really see the point in that though, he wasn't going anywhere.
Huh. His sense of touch must be coming back because now he can feel a huge lump in his back. His hands. His hands were chained behind his back. Great. He can feel that but nothing else. Perfect. Can life get any better?
He was being wheeled away now. But they definitely weren't moving as quickly as they had with the cornel and the soldier. Like they didn't care if he died or not. They probably didn't. They probably thought that if they took their sweet time taking him to the infirmary he would die along the way and all their problems would be solved. Well, that would certainly solve all of his problems. Just die and end this nightmare. They called it life but he saw none of that in his. There's no amount of pain that hell can cause him that he hasn't already dealt with. Death. Oh, why couldn't he just die already?! If anyone really cares about him why wouldn't they just let him die? Or take him away from this place?! He could already feel the tears forming in his eyes. Let them come. Oh, let them come. And keep coming. Hm, could you die of dehydration from crying too much? Because that would be really convenient right about now.
Dr. Drakes loomed over him, running, or, more so fast walking, he wasn't sure. He was saying something to him. His eyes were full of so much worry. It nearly broken his heart to see his friend this distressed.
Friend.
Was Dr. Drakes really his friend?
He didn't know. He just didn't know anymore.
Dr. Drakes kept talking. It looked like was saying generally the same thing over and over and over again.
His sight and hearing weren't at their peak at the moment, so it was hard to hear what it was he was trying to tell him and even harder to read his lips. But he would try anyway.
He squinted at Dr. Drakes and strained his ears to hear. But no dice. Darkness seemed to be looming over him, offering him sanctuary from the cruelty of his reality. He was just about to answer the call when a part of his hearing came back, just long enough to hear what Dr. Drakes was saying.
"You're going to be alright Trag; everything's going to be fine. Don't worry, we'll get through this. Everything's going to be alright,"
I sure hope you're right.
And he let the darkness consume him and take him away from reality.
His head hurt. That was the first thing he noticed. His body was sore. Second thing he noticed. He opened his eyes, not all the way, but just a crack. It was bright. He waited a minute for his eyes to adjust and surveyed the room. It was an empty, pure white room. Void of any color or life. Solitary Confinement? No, the walls weren't padded. Well, it was HAC after all. Maybe the walls were soft. Probably not. They probably didn't even care what really happened to him anymore. Maybe never did. He hated HAC. Its lack of color and life, a good chunk of its employees the same way, with a few exceptions of course. And anything could happen. Anything.
He tried to sit up, but something stopped him, first the pain, oh it hurt. Then he realized that that meant his sense of touch was coming back to him. Nice. He tried to sit up again, and then saw that something was holding him down. He lifted his head as much as he could and looked down at his body. His arms were restrained by at least three steel bindings each. He tried to move them and heard a small, metallic jinckle. And they were also handcuffed to the bed as well. Then he realized he was lying on a hospital bed, not necessarily one of the nice ones per say, well, it didn't feel like a nice one due to the fact that the pillow and mattress he was lying on was hard. He tried to shift positions, but that didn't work. Not only were his legs strapped down to the bed by the same steel bindings as his arms-he heard a jinckle coming from farther down the bed-and handcuffed to it, but his entire body was strapped down to the bed by thick leather, well, straps. One on his upper chest, one on his lower, one on his stomach, one on his…well, you know, one on his upper legs, one on his knees, and finally, one on his ankles.
He groaned, half from the pain, half from the fact that he wasn't even allowed to move, and let his head drop onto the hard pillow. He groaned, he actually heard himself groan, which meant his hearing was coming back too. But it sounded…muffled. Strange. There was something else, too. On his face. It felt hard and cold and…annoying. He could barely even open his mouth without running into the dung thing. Great. Could he be any more restrained?
A door opened just to the very far right of him. He heard footsteps. His muscles tensed and he readied his claws. The figure came into focus. It was Dr. Drakes. He sheathed his claws and let his muscles relax a little. The young scientist stepped up to the bed and looked down at the restrained Trag; his amber-yellow eyes were filled with a mixture of relief and worry.
"Trag, can you hear me?" his voice betrayed his worry too.
He nodded.
Dr. Drakes let out a sigh of relief. "Good. I-I'm," he hesitated and carefully brought his shaking hand to Trag's and squeezed it gently. He sighed and smiled weakly at Trag, his eyes shiny with the threat of tears. "I'm just glad you're OK,"
Trag smiled, or, at least, tried to smile through the muzzle. He wasn't sure if Dr. Drakes could see it, but he smiled anyway. He couldn't get punished for smiling. He squeezed Dr. Drakes' hand back.
Dr. Drakes smiled and wiped his eyes with his free hand.
Ah, come 'on man, knock it off. Quit with the waterworks, man. Seriously, you're gonna make me cry. And crocs don't cry. Come 'on man, cut it out…
"Daniel?"
Dr. Drakes jumped and whipped around. It was Dr. White. Her face looked concerned.
"Oh, um, yes, um," he coughed and smiled nervously. "Yes?"
Dr. White raised an eyebrow and shook her. She stepped up next to Dr. Drakes and smiled weakly, trying to brighten the mood a little.
"How are you?"
"Fine. Just, well, you know, fine,"
She nodded and looked down at Trag and brought up the warmest smile she could muster.
"So is this Trag?"
Dr. Drakes nodded.
She smiled warmly at Trag. "Hi Trag, My name is Dr. White,"
Trag's ears perked at this. He'd heard that name before.
Dr. White, eh? You're E's friend right?
"Don't worry Trag, you don't have to worry about Dr. White too much, she won't bite,"
I'm not worried about her biting me DD; I think she's more worried about me biting her rather than it being the other way around.
She gave him a friendly shove. "Daniel!" she laughed.
"What? You won't!" he was laughing too.
Dr. White laughed for several seconds and then cleared her throat. "Is he going to be alright? What did the doctor say?"
Dr. Drakes stopped laughing and stared at Dr. White with a blank expression.
She means me, Drakes.
"Oh, you mean Trag!"
Oh, the boy's a genius.
"Yes, Trag. Who did you think I was talking about?" her tone was not unkindly, but it still sounded like she was laughing at him.
"Um, I don't know, y-you just kind of caught me off-guard, that's all,"
First mistake bro, letting your guard down. Not smart bro, not smart at all.
"Oh, sorry,"
"No, no, it's perfectly alright,"
Trag sighed inwardly and rolled his eyes. Luckily they didn't seem to notice.
No man, it's not "OK" when someone catches you off-guard, not cool man, not cool.
"So what did the doctor say about Trag?
"Oh! Um, he'll be alright. Just gonna take a little time to heal, but nothing real serious,"
"Oh that's good,"
"Yeah, the doctor said he's healing really fast,"
Dr. White chuckled to herself. "Well I'm not surprised. He is a werehog after all,"
What's that got to do with anything?
"Yeah, I guess so. Werehogs are pretty fast healers,"
Really?
"Yes. But I really wish they would allow him to be exposed to moonlight,"
Moonlight? What do I need moonlight for?
"Yeah, werehogs have a tendency heal even faster under moonlight, especially a full moon,"
You don't say.
"Yes, that's true," said Dr. White as she stroked his head and ran her fingers through his quills and fur.
He decided he liked her. She seemed nice enough. She wasn't calling him mutt or beast or doing anything to hurt him. But was she trustworthy? He didn't know yet. But he'd find out as soon as they let him out these restraints and out of this bed.
She leaned in close to his ear. "Don't worry; we'll get you out of all of this. You'll see," her breath tickled his ear.
She stood up straight and smiled warmly down at him, her eyes were kind. He stared into them, almost transfixed by them. By their kindness. Did such a kindness even exist? He had no idea. The only "kindness" that ever came his way was extremely rare and short lived. It almost never lasted for more than a few minutes before he was beaten back into reality, sometimes quite literally.
"Don't worry, Trag. Everything's going to be alright. I promise," whispered Dr. Drakes. Suddenly a cold liquid began to surge through his veins. He drew a sharp breath and let the darkness take him under its wings again.
He wasn't alone. That was the very first thing that he realized when he woke up. He wasn't alone. There was someone else in the room. And his nose told him it wasn't Dr. Drakes or White. Oh no, whoever this guy was he stank. At first he thought maybe it was another experiment that had "tested its limits" like he had. But his nose told him otherwise. He knew this guy. And not in a good way.
He heard footsteps. Coming towards him. They sounded liked boots. The figure loomed over him. He had a nasty grin on his unshaven face, a huge scar running down it.
"Hello Trag," he snarled. His breath reeked of alcohol.
Trag cringed. It was the cornel.
"How are you feeling?"
It was an insult. The cornel knew he couldn't talk, even if he wanted to. Stupid muzzle. And second, it was rather ironic due to the fact that he had tried to tear the cornel apart only a short while ago, and here he was, still lying strapped and handcuffed in a hospital bed.
Trag glared at him. He clenched his fisted and tensed his muscles. He hated being this vulnerable.
The cornel chuckled mockingly and paced to the foot of Trag's bed and leaned against it. Trag looked over at him and glared even harder. He may not be able to fight physically, but he refused to go down as a coward.
"Listen up, mutt. In a week you're standing trial in front of the Board," he still had that nasty grin on his face.
Trial? What for?
"You've been a little too unrulely, and you will have to be punished for your actions," he looked like he was enjoying every second of this.
Punished? What're ya gonna do scat-face? Send me to prison? Please. What can you people possibly do to me now that you haven't already done to me?
"So, we will decided then what to do with you, Whether we should just up the security and restraints on you or whether or not you should be decommissioned," his voice seemed to get deeper and darker with each word he uttered.
Trag froze. Decommissioned. The one thing they haven't already done to him. The thing he was actually afraid of.
Decommissioned. The word pounded away at his brain. Decommissioned. He hoped his eyes didn't give away his fear.
Apparently they did. The cornel's smile got bigger and nastier. "Hear that, mutt? You mess up and I get to watch you die," he put an extra emphases on the word die.
Trag started to panic. But he killed it as soon as it popped up. Dying. It was what he always wanted. To die. To escape this nightmare. Good. He'd show everyone his little secret then just as they are about to pull the switch for Abolition Chambers to activate. Whether or not he should actually try to escape or not he hadn't decided yet, but he was for sure gonna psych them out before he left.
The cornel chuckled darkly and stood up to leave. Just as he was walking out the door he called over his shoulder: "The guards will be here to pick you up a week from now, mutt. Try anything and you'll go straight to the Chambers,"
Yeah, like I'm gonna try something. I'm not stupid. Besides, where's the fun in that?
"See ya then!" the cornel yelled over his shoulder just as he was about to leave the room. "Mutt!" he broke into a hysterical laughter before the door slammed shut. Silence. He was alone. Finally.
Yeah, that's right cornel, you just laugh now. Enjoy it while you can. But one of these days you won't be laughing, oh no, you'll be too busy puking up your own organs and bleeding to death to be doing any laughing. Oh but don't worry, I'll be doing it for you. And I'll enjoy every second of it.
The cold liquid surged through his veins again. He let a sharp breath escape his lips and began to drift. Darkness loomed over him once again.
Let it come.
Darkness came over him and welcomed him into its arms.
Let. It. Come.
He was hungry. That was his one and only thought when he woke up. He needed food. When was the last time he had eaten something? He couldn't even remember. Oh well. Maybe someone would bring him something eventually.
He tried to shift positions again. He found that he could move a little more now. He looked down at his body. It wasn't as restrained as before. Some of the straps from before were gone. Now there was only one on his chest and one on his stomach, one on his upper legs and one on his ankles. OK, getting there. Alright. He'll take it. And the steel bindings that had held down his arms had been reduced to one each and the handcuffs-granted, they were heavier and thicker this time around, but he would have to live with that. The cuffs were thicker around his ankles too, but that didn't matter much.
He grinned. Then he realized the muzzle was gone. His smile grew at that. And he had grown. A lot. Last time he remembered he had the body of, what? A six-year-old? Now he had the body of at least an eleven-year-old.
OK, not bad moving up the ladder. Eleven. That's OK, I can work with that.
He flexed the muscles on his arms and puffed out his chest as much as he could. Ah, man that felt good! His grin grew twice its size.
Lookin' good, Trag. Lookin' good.
Though, as much as this was a pleasant change from being a six-year-old, he still couldn't wait till he reached the teen years. Then he'd reallystart seeing some serious muscle.
He laid his head back on his hard pillow with a smile, satisfied with his progress.
Come and get me HAC. Take your best shot. I'm ready for 'ya.
As if on cue the door opened. Trag glanced over at it casually, just to see who it was. It was…someone he didn't know. A humanoid female cat with blonde fur and green eyes. She was carrying a tray piled high with meat.
Trag's mouth watered and he stared the tray longingly. Someone else stepped into the room behind her. It was a soldier. No, make that two soldiers. Perfect. Just what he needed. More idiots to annoy him.
The soldiers stepped around the female cat and stepped up to Trag.
This may be it.
They undid the leather straps holding him down and unlocked the cuffs restraining him to the bed. The cat paused and waited. Her green eyes betrayed her fear.
Trag almost laughed. Fear was such a normal emotion for him. He was around it a lot. He was used to it. But that didn't mean he still didn't get kicks from seeing people cower in fear when they saw him. He was rather flattered, actually.
The soldiers undid all the leather straps and unlocked his hands from the cuffs attached to the bed. But they didn't even give him a chance to move before they already had his wrists locked in another pair of heavy cuffs. These ones were a lot thicker and heavier than the ones attached to bed. One of the soldiers locked his ankles in a pair just like it too. He expected them to grab his arms and drag him away, but they surprised him with what they did next. They turned and headed for the door. Trag raised his eyebrow but didn't argue. His eyes were drawn back to the cat and the tray of meat she was carrying. He licked his lips and again stared longingly at the succulent flesh. All of a sudden a soldier rushed up to him and grabbed his restraint collar. He heard a little gasp escape the feline's mouth. Just as he was about to smile the soldier yanked on the latch his collar to tighten it. A strange sound escaped Trag's mouth. Something halfway between a yip and a snarl. Then the soldier quickly walked away.
Trag rubbed his neck and glared darkly at the soldier, a deep, menacing growl forming in the back of his throat. But he could smell the soldiers' fear. He cherished it and smiled sinisterly.
The sound of an office chair rolling across the floor penetrated his ears. He turned his head and saw the cat rolling up to him with the tray of meat in her lap. She looked nervous, scared. He could smell her fear. He almost smiled at this. Almost. He would probably freak her out even more if he smiled and showed her his collection of dagger-sharp, crocodile teeth.
She scooted right up next to him and smiled weakly. A lousy attempt at brightening the mood a little bit.
"Hi Trag. Y-you look like you're feeling better. Dr. Wolff said you'd be OK," she laughed nervously. "He said werehogs are fast healers,"
He had to resist the urge to roll his eyes.
Yeah, OK, we get that I'm a fast healer and that I'm feeling fine, now give me the meat.
She gulped but kept smiling nervously. "I'm glad to see that you're healing quite nicely and that you'll be on your feet in no time,"
Wow. That was the most forced sentence he'd ever heard.
Yeah, yeah, sure you are sweetheart. Can I have the food now?
He glanced down at the food then up at the cat then back down at the food. Hopefully she got the message.
Her eyes looked down at the meat and then at Trag. Her eyes widened a little when she looked at him.
"Oh, you're hungry. Right, sorry,"
Oh the girl's a genius.
No DUH I'm hungry! Come 'on! I haven't the slightest clue when the last time I ate was and I don't know when the next time it will be! Just give me the food already!
"Here," she lifted the tray from her lap and stretched it out to Trag. He started to reach out when she pulled it back.
Scat!
"Oh, I almost forgot. My name is Tammy," she said and reached out with her hand to shake.
He just stared at it. Not stared at it like "Oh hey, I'm stupid!" but like he was a ruthless king and Tammy here was a worthless pheasant fresh from the filthy streets. He didn't shake it. He just stared at it. He didn't care if he was being rude or even mean, his stomach was growling and he was hungry and she was standing between him and his next meal. He was in a merciless mood as it was. If she didn't hand it over soon he was gonna snatch it from her.
Yeah, that's nice Tams, but I just want my food, so hand it over, Kitty. Just hand it over and nobody gets hurt…
Her hand drooped and her nervous, friendly smile faded after several long moments. She lifted the tray up to him.
"Um, here,"
He grabbed it and stuffed the meat in his mouth. She let out a small squeal but he didn't care. His stomach was raging from the lack of food and if he didn't answer it it was going to eat him from the inside out.
He grabbed the meat and stuffed it into his mouth. He was shoveling it in so fast he almost choked on a few pieces.
"So, um, Trag, I hear you're quite the little fighter,"
Little fighter? Are you suggesting I'm small? Or that I'm weak? For your sake I hope that's not what you're saying, because if you are I might just have to show you how much of a 'little fighter' I really am.
Trag stopped eating for a moment to glance over at the clearly uncomfortable and nervous Tammy and continued eating without another word. She was only a distraction from the food.
And distractions were unacceptable.
To be continued…
