Chapter 2

The interrogation room was cold and dimly lit, somewhat bigger than Paige's holding cell, with bricked windowless walls and a single chair placed in its center. A woman paced the stark enclosure with a palmpilot in hand, tapping the screen with her stylus while she spoke into the headset device wrapped around her left ear. Pushed into the room, the officer forced Paige to sit on the metal chair and tied plastic restraints to her wrists before he stepped out and closed the door. Ignored for the duration of the call, Paige clasped her trembling hands on her lap and decided to wait in silence as she studied the woman who was meant to interrogate her.

This was the one who'd been with Dougal inside her holding cell; Paige had recognized her voice at once upon entering the room. She was rather striking in appearance: tall and slender, with fair skin and sleek blonde hair pulled back in a French bun. Paige judged her to be somewhere in her mid-forties, though she couldn't be certain. Her face wasn't lined with age, but the confidence in which she directed orders to others implied years of experience with managing a work setting. Paige's mother held herself in a similar manner during an assignment. Beneath the lab coat, she wore a steel grey business skirt with a pleated white blouse, and a string of pearls on her neck. Pausing with her back to Paige, the woman tapped her black pumps on the concrete floor with impatience.

"I don't care if Nicolai's got a soft spot for the animal," she clipped. "His behavior is unacceptable. We can't afford to bring in more outsiders into this project, damn it! It's too risky. Take Sanders to the infirmary, patch him up and assign him to the culture room for now. Who the hell gave him clearance to feed the test subject in the first place? I want a name." A moment of silence preceded the sound of incensed fingers tapping the headset device with impatience. "I'll have a word with security. If that thing maims one of my technicians again, punish him. What's one more scar? He'll heal before Nicolai sees him on his next visit, anyway. And cut his meat rations in half for a week." The woman paused, then her tone became glacial. "Of course his aggression will elevate, but it'll motivate him to obey. If the canine breeds could respond to a simple reward system, then so can he."

Paige fisted her hands, feeling the restraints bite into her skin as the doctor's words fell into place. It had been a growing suspicion when Dr. Rosenburg had revealed Mercile was responsible for her kidnapping, but now she was certain.

A New Species was here!

Paige recalled the screams she'd heard while locked in the holding cell. The sound had been a cross between a snarl and a bellow, definitely not human. Although his people had been liberated and lived as a community inside Homeland and Reservation, this poor creature was still trapped in a cage.

Tortured.

Degraded.

An 'animal' in the eyes of his enemies.

The thought of seeing one of them still living under the horrid conditions the others had been subjected to years ago made her stomach roil. A distant memory surfaced the longer she allowed her unease to take hold. It was during her first semester at the university. Professor Walters had shared an article one morning before class began of the hardships New Species had endured under Mercile. He'd used it as an inspiration to his students when faced with adversity and the intolerance of man. Paige had been unable to contain her tears, as he'd read accounts from the few survivors who'd willingly shared their stories to be published. Their fears. The pain. Loved ones they'd lost. And their inability to give up on life, even when it seemed there was nothing left worth living for.

Paige had discovered on that first day of class, Professor Gareth Walters was a humanitarian to the core.

Within the music hall, he extended his lessons beyond the margins of a score book or the composition of a song. As artists, he believed it was their obligation to encourage acceptance within their communities of people who'd been born different, but who no less deserved a place in this world.

In essence, her escape plan needed to change.

Paige narrowed her eyes on the doctor's headset device, then her thoughts centered on the radio the officer held to his belt beside the baton just outside the room. Doctors needed computers, right? Possibly one with access to the internet? And someone in this building was bound to have a cell phone. Hope flared inside her. There were means to communicate outside the walls she was trapped in, she just needed a stolen opportunity and bit of luck on her side.

If there was some way to contact Homeland…

"…yes, postpone the experiment for now. There is a matter of security I must attend to before we can proceed to the next phase. I'll keep you posted. And have the prisoner ready for me in ten minutes. I may have found something that'll motivate her to cooperate with us."

The woman tapped the headset device once, then turned to Paige and placed a hand on her hip. She raised an inquisitive brow as she stepped closer, her green eyes assessing Paige from top to bottom with disapproval. During the struggle, she'd lost the clip which kept her long hair in place. She'd resisted the urge to rake her fingers through the mass of dark brown curls, certain that without the aid of a brush it likely bore the resemblance of a nest. Dirt and blood stained her white T-shirt and strawberry-patterned pajama bottoms, a sight which seemed to offend the woman more than the cuts and bruises on her skin.

When she'd stormed from the dorm room, the thought of changing her clothes hadn't crossed her mind. Paige had grabbed her favorite leather jacket and a pair of sneakers, along with her keycard to access the music hall. It was fortunate she'd remembered to wear socks, since they'd taken the shoes and jacket from her in the holding cell.

Her cell phone was still tucked into the pocket of her jacket, but she was sure Dougal confiscated that when she'd blacked out.

"You're an improvement from the last person who sat in that chair," the woman said at last, concluding her scrutiny. A smile crossed her lips. "Your composure is most refreshing, Ms. Evans. Mercile commends good behavior. It seems Dougal's assessment of your temperament was just the end result of the…skirmish you two had. A natural reaction, to be sure." The woman pressed a hand to her chest. "My name is Dr. Meredith Malcolm. I'm the leading Geneticist of this research facility. My assistant, Dr. Rosenburg, may have mention me during your evaluation— Yes?"

Paige nodded, feeling her skin scrawl. Dr. Rosenburg had indeed warned her about the good doctor.

"Excellent. Ms. Evans, rest assured I can be quite accommodating if you continue to behave in a civilized manner. Cooperation is the key. We should strive for a relationship that will benefit both parties, don't you agree?"

Deciding the woman was insane, Paige held her tongue and kept her face blank.

"In the future, I require a verbal response when I ask you a question. Perhaps you are still under the influence of the sedative, so I'll let the matter stand for now… " Tapping her stylus to the palmpilot, Dr. Malcolm began to circle Paige in a relaxed gait as she read aloud from the screen, "Paige McKayla Evans, born to Richard and Norah Evans on October 13th in Bloomsburg Hospital, Pennsylvania. You were three years old when your father passed away—" A derisive tone escaped her lips. "—Car accident. Our records indicate you and your mother moved to California within the same year to live with Abigail Thornton, mother to Norah Evans—Is this information correct thus far?"

Paige gritted her teeth, enraged by the manner in which her privacy had been invaded.

"Yes."

Pleased with her response, the doctor continued, "Graduated high school around the time Mrs. Thornton, age 73, passed away of natural causes. Currently, you're a student at California Institute of the Arts…" Dr. Malcolm paused in front of Paige again, her eyes narrowed to slits as something appeared to have caught her attention. "Hm, now I found this section in your file rather interesting. Perhaps my sources are flawed. Tell me, what is your mother's current form of employment?"

"Why?"

"I'd like to confirm the validity of this information with you, if you wouldn't mind."

Paige heaved a weary sigh. "Mom's a personal assistant to some corporate CEO. She travels a lot, but aside from racking up air miles her job is pretty average. I see her once or twice a month, if her schedule allows. More, when I'm on vacation." Squaring her shoulders, Paige glared at the doctor and pushed past the discomfort in her throat. She didn't know the proper way to communicate with delusional psychopaths, but she was willing to step out of her comfort zone and try. "I'd like to know why any of this could possibly be of interest to your company. I don't know anything about Mercile, except what I've heard on the news. Why am I here?"

Dr. Malcolm tapped a finger to her pursed lips. "Fascinating. You're either a very skilled liar or you actually believe all that I've read here to be true."

"Why on earth would I lie about Mom's job, of all things?" Paige paused for a moment, staring back at the doctor in confusion. "Wait, what do you mean by 'all'? You've just hacked into my personal records, so unless you kidnapped the wrong person—"

Dr. Malcolm laughed. "I can assure you, we did not."

"Then why am I here?!" she yelled. "What do you want from me?!"

Crossing her arms over her chest, Dr. Malcolm tilted her head and frowned at the sudden outburst. Paige felt her head pound in tune with the throbbing on her bruised face. Taking deep breaths, she counted backwards from ten and took hold of her frayed emotions. Paige was almost certain this was the type of 'hysterical behavior' Dr. Malcolm frowned upon. Who knew what the consequences would bring if she caused her displeasure? Dr. Rosenburg had said the woman was far more dangerous than Dougal, and from the manner in which she regarded Paige she was beginning to understand why.

In Dougal, she had seen malice.

But there was something almost soulless about the woman's expression the longer she stared at Paige.

"Are you quite finished with your little tantrum, Ms. Evans?" Dr. Malcolm asked, sliding her eyes back to her palmpilot. "I do not have the time nor patience for hysterics. Do I need to have Dougal sedate you again?"

"No," Paige replied at once, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. The thought of being drugged or touched by that man again helped her regain a modicum of composure. "That won't be necessary."

"Very well, then let us proceed." Dr. Malcolm strode towards the door and held it open.

Paige could see the same officer from before come to attention beyond the threshold. If he hadn't been standing guard, perhaps she could've snatched the headset from Dr. Malcolm's ear and made a run for it.

And then what?

Pushing herself to her feet, Paige took a step in the doctor's direction but hesitated as uncertainty rooted her to the spot. Stealing the headset wouldn't be enough. She didn't know where she was, or more frustrating still—why she was brought here. Was she underground? In another state? How many people were in this facility under Mercile's control?

Then, another thought struck her.

There could be more than one Species caged somewhere in the building.

If Paige were to stand any chance of calling Homeland for help, this was essential information she needed to get for them. Furthermore, Paige didn't know much about the race, but it was likely the male Species being held in captivity was feral. According to Dr. Malcolm, he'd already 'maimed more than one technician'.

That didn't inspire much confidence in Paige.

"Come now, Ms. Evans," Dr. Malcolm said, losing patience. "I have a conference call in an hour and a facility to run. My time is valuable."

"Where are you taking me?"

"Level Three- Primary Enclosure." Dr. Malcolm offered her a knowing smile. "There is someone special there I'd like you to say hello to. Perhaps then you will understand your purpose here."

The taste of the human's blood on his tongue still lingered.

It was the fifth one he'd maimed this month.

The male had sensed the technician's inexperience when he'd approached his cage at feeding time with his meal. Younger than the usual personnel assigned to his care, the human's face was unfamiliar and for this reason he'd stalked closer to the cage and observed the newcomer. Keeping track of the enemy's scent was a habit he exercised often. It wouldn't be wise to forget the humans he intended to hunt down and kill when the opportunity arose. Perhaps this mild interest he'd shown the technician had been the reason the young human had stepped too close to the kill-zone line.

A foolish thing to do.

Grabbing the human had been too easy.

Feeding him was a task assigned only to the human males with dark green uniforms, the ones accustomed to his unpredictable nature and trained to keep their guard up in his presence. They were stronger than the doctors, more aggressive, and often carried weapons to subdue him when his temper flared and needed to be contained.

They also enjoyed causing him pain.

That he'd allowed the technician to keep the leg during the attack could attest to his current mood; it wasn't in his nature to release prey once caught. His intent had been to instill fear and make an example of him to the other humans. Lessons which he never missed an opportunity to perform before his ever-present audience. The technician released a terrible scream when the male sank his teeth deeper into his flesh, nearly touching bone. Unable to intervene, the medical staff stared in horror as the technician's screams turned to small whimpers and then silence. By then, the male released the unconscious human and snarled when security rushed into the sector with electric prods in hand. Backing away, he glared at the officers as they dragged the technician away from the kill-zone line. The trail of blood followed them when they sprinted away with the injured human and out of his sight.

The presence of one particular human among the males still in the room made him pause.

Typically, scenting Dougal anywhere near his enclosure spurred him into a mindless rage. As head of security, his authority was left unquestioned. He and his officers took pleasure from the pain and suffering they'd often inflict on his kind. The test subjects were his favored source of amusement. Even the medical staff avoided confrontation with the human, save for Dr. Malcolm. His imposing height and muscular frame were designed for intimidation, attributes which combined with his skills as a fighter made him a formidable adversary. The male desired nothing more than to rip Dougal's neck with his teeth and watch him choke on his own blood. For him, he'd bite straight to the bone without hesitation. It would be a simple thing to do if given the chance.

It surprised him then when his nose picked up the smell of said blood in question, and mingled with it was the scent of fear.

A female's.

"Clean that shit up," Dougal barked to one of his officers, pointing to the blood on the floor. Five others accompanied him, standing guard with their prods pointing at the male who'd backed himself deeper into the cage and away from the bars. Dougal narrowed his eyes at him and smiled. "Looks like your ass is mine tonight, freak. I told you what would happen if you crossed me again."

The male snarled at the threat.

"Dougal, Dr. Malcolm's on the line for you. She sounds pissed," a male voice called out. Randall, Dougal's second in command, walked into the sector with a cell phone in hand. The officer blinked in surprise when he approached his leader. "Shit! What the hell happened to your face?"

"That little bitch Malcolm had me bring from Cali got a little excited, that's all," Dougal replied. He glared at anyone foolish enough to look in his direction, as he grabbed the cell from Randall and took the call.

Curious, the male stepped to the left side of the cage with caution and angled for a better view. There, on the right side of Dougal's face, were four distinct bloody scratches. These had been inflicted by a human, not one of his kind. Had one of them gotten that close with their claws, the damage would've been irreparable.

Still, the tiny marks on Dougal's flesh would scar.

This small act of defiance pleased the male.

"Holy shit, you seeing what I'm seeing?" The officer cleaning the blood paused, drawing the attention of his companions and pointed at the male. "That thing's smiling. You ever see him do that before?"

One of the officers standing guard shook his head. "It's making my skin crawl just looking at him. Ignore it. Fucking animal's insane, anyway. Who knows what's going on inside that messed up head of his."

A deep rumble came from within the male's chest, the sound of displeasure loud enough to draw Dougal's attention back to his cage. His officers shifted nervously, but did not step back. A smile crossed their leader's lips as he approached, the cell phone still pressed to his ear.

"Copy that, Dr. Malcolm. I'll personally supervise X-013's conditioning. Mr. Nicolai will understand the need for obedience in this research facility. He is military, after all. And I'll make sure our boy's left in one piece after I'm done with him. Can't have our sponsor displeased with how we handle his merchandise, yeah?"

Disconnecting the call, Dougal grabbed a weapon from his belt and stepped up to the bars of the cage. Crouching low to the ground, X-013 bared his fangs and snarled at him, his claws raking the cement floor in anger at his proximity.

He knew what would come next.

"Tell me, animal," Dougal said, pointing the taser gun at him. He motioned three more of his officers to do the same. "What happens when Nicolai no longer has a hard on for your worthless ass?"

X-013 held his position, his eyes never leaving Dougal. Up close, the mark on his face was more defined and the trace of the female's scent distracting. It was not an unpleasant smell, just out of place and not welcome under the circumstances. Wiping the remnants of blood from his lips, he flashed Dougal a smile allowing his fangs to show. He knew the gesture unsettled the humans. Then, X-013 lifted his left hand and held two fingers up.

A silent reminder to Dougal, for on his left hand hidden under the cover of a black leather glove, the same two fingers had been bitten off by X-013 years ago.

Dougal's face reddened in anger.

"Shoot the fucker down, now!"

Unable to deflect all of the attacks at once, four probes pierced X-013's flesh. A deafening roar escaped him, then his throat constricted until not a sound came from his lips. He struggled to fight past the pain, but as usual the volts of electricity paralyzed him until he couldn't hold his weight any longer and his body crumbled to the floor. Gasping for breath, X-013 heard the door to his cage open, followed by the sound of boots as they stepped closer. Forcing his eyes to open when Dougal's scent neared, the loathsome human stood over him, flashed him a grin, and then his boot connected with X-013's head.

Darkness embraced him.

And then the games would begin.