Experiment: 17c3

Codename: Atticus

Recombination: Mew/Human

Status: Active

Date of Report: January 13th, 20XX

Notes: 17c3 and 24c1 bonded immediately. This is not surprising, as they are both reaching maturity. The initial plan was to see how their relational dynamic evolved over the course of several weeks, but plans change.

=·=·=·=·=

"Do you dream?" Mirage asked. It was early morning. The professors would just be waking up, but Atticus hadn't slept - his body and mind still writhing from the toxins - so she had stayed awake all night to keep him company. He'd appreciate it more if his brain didn't hurt so much.

Atticus shook his head. "Not really. Nothing to dream about." They didn't have nightmares, either. Reality was far worse than anything their subconscious minds could come up with, especially given their narrow scope of experience. Sleep was an escape, but with nowhere to go, it was often just a void.

"There's one dream I have." Mirage smiled. "Full of color and laughter."

Atticus rolled his eyes at how unrealistic it was. "What's the point? This is all there is. All there can ever be."

"Don't say that!" She was pacing across the length of the vantaglass wall, dress flowing as she moved. Atticus couldn't help but notice her hips swing. "Don't say that. I want to leave, someday."

"And go where?"

"I don't know… The professors have to come from somewhere."

The boy shrugged. "It doesn't matter. We will be here until the day they kill us."

"Hmm." Mirage pursed her lips. "Well, hopefully we'll die together." She grinned at him. Atticus knew it was pointless, but her sanguine was contagious. It was an unfamiliar feeling.

"What're you bitzers doing up this early? Don't make me flog you." Professor Heath's rough drawl yawned through the speakers. "Oi, Ajax, where's my coffee? Eh? No, it's not still on. What do you mean, it doesn't turn off when I… ah." The voice cut off with a squawk.

Atticus looked into Mirage's eyes. When he didn't look away, she blushed and asked, "What?"

"I'm prepping myself for today's horrors. I want to be able to remember you when you're gone."

"I'll be here at the end of the day, Atticus."

He glanced away, sheepish. "Yeah. You're right."

The two of them sat quietly for several minutes, the missed moment draping their cell with thorns. Finally, Mirage broke the silence.

"Look, Atticus." They locked gazes once again. "I… you're the only person…" She struggled for words, their vocabulary limited to words the professors and guards used.

"Sorry?" Atticus shrugged.

Mirage blinked. Her eyes were moist, but she was smiling. "I don't know what that means."

"Neither do I."

He could see her laughing through the plastic.

Atticus laughed, too. "Any usage of the word I come up with is almost definitely wrong."

"Who cares? You said it yourself; we'll be here 'til the day we die."

"Don't say that," Atticus echoed. "You're my smile."

Mirage put a hand on her cheek as she flushed. "Alright, then. I guess I'm your smile."

"And I'm your frown. You two are disgusting me," Heath said. "We'll be starting soon. Hit the anchor."

The two teenagers settled down, awaiting the punishments of the day. Sure enough, only a few minutes later, soldiers arrived to whisk them away. Atticus noted with care that while the men who came to his room were wearing rubber suits, the men in Mirage's cell wore plated armor - clearly, each guard was tailored to suit the individual recombinant's needs.

"What's up, doc?" Atticus said with a smile.

The professor eyed him skeptically, putting a blindfold over the boy's eyes. "You're oddly cheerful. You're normally as riotous as an Exploud. We're going to be cutting out some of your non-vital organs."

"Non-vital?"

"We want to see if you can regrow entire organs. We'll be preserving what we remove, just in case you… uh… can't." The man scratched his nose. "Your nonchalance is off-putting."

"Sorry. Here," Atticus replied as he started to thrash around half-heartedly. "No… let go of me! Ahh."

"Hmph. I'm embarrassed for you. You'll start yelling when you get disemboweled, I guess."

"What's happening to Mirage?"

Heath grunted. "Not my jurisdiction. I think they're running endurance and reflex tests on her. It's mostly to do with her blades. Nasty things, those. They shoot fruit at her, and she cuts them out of the air."

"That doesn't sound too bad."

The blindfold came off, and Heath's gaunt features came into view. "It's not. You're… very attached to her, aren't you?" A conniving look came over the man's face. "Hmm. Beware the spunky ones, is what I always say. Lie down."

Atticus did as he was told, not seeing the point in resistance, which would not only be futile but also might decrease his chances of seeing Mirage again. Someone removed his shirt, and as he was strapped to the table by two lab technicians, Professor Heath walked over to a small cabinet and donned specialized surgical clothing, halfway between traditional operating scrubs and the ubiquitous rubber suits. It wasn't that Atticus would try to electrocute the scientists while they were sticking metal in his body - it's generally a bad thing when the surgeon starts twitching in the middle of dissection - but he had a tendency to send out small jolts when in pain. They also had to attach a breathing apparatus to his head; since lungs by themselves have no muscles, when the abdomen is opened to the air the diaphragm ceases to function.

Heath arrived at the table, scalpel in hand, and made his primary incision. They cut a line down Atticus's body, from the base of the neck to the waist, and another parallel line beneath his chest. He clenched his teeth and suffered silently as the scientists peeled back the skin and fatty tissue, exposing his musculature to the cold air. Needless to say, without anesthesia, it was excruciatingly painful.

"Coag," Heath muttered, holding out a hand. Short for coagulation device, the small machine was used to prevent unnecessary blood loss by cauterizing blood vessels. Bloody tools and hands were a slippery recipe for disaster in surgical settings. Of course, with Atticus's regeneration, the coag alone was not enough. After burning his veins, the lab technicians had to manually tie up the ends of his blood vessels with sutures.

Rivulets of saline suffering ran down the boy's face as the men cut through his muscles, finally reaching the visceral treasure trove beneath. Professor Heath stepped back from the operating table to wipe away his own sweat, caused not by pain but by the brilliant illumination in the room.

"Since we'll want to be able to put these back in, if necessary…" the man said, "we'll have to connect your tubes in ways that they, well, just aren't normally connected. It'll cause some discomfort. You might find yourself, um, coughing up blood. But it's better than hemorrhaging." He picked up a vial of milky serum. "The immune system is selfish, concerned only with itself. It will even destroy the body it calls host. Sort of like you, 17c3. This stuff will mitigate any autoimmune disease symptoms you experience."

Heath carefully injected the serum right into Atticus's stomach. The onset of pain was immediate, but dwindled gradually as his cells sealed the breach. Atticus was aware of the fact that for anyone else, a gastrointestinal perforation would almost certainly be fatal, even with maximum treatment.

They removed his spleen, his gallbladder, one of his kidneys, and his stomach. His small bowel was reconnected to his oesophagus, while the far end of the duodenum was connected to his small bowel, allowing the bile and pancreatic ducts to continue to drain into the duodenum. Several other tubes were simply tied off, in a way so that if they tried to regrow they wouldn't be impeded.

Finally, they restored his blood vessels to their natural position, folded his skin and muscles in their proper places, and stitched them back together like some kind of grotesque patchwork doll. His flesh immediately set out rejuvenating itself, gory lines scarring over and those scars, in turn, fading to pale lines as they were replaced with new tissue. The surgeons placed his removed organs in special containers and whisked them away for storage.

"Can… I…" Atticus wheezed as his breathing came more easily. "Can I… see Mirage… now?"

The professor was busy washing his hands. "You want to see the girl?" There was an uncharacteristic pause. "Yes. I suppose you can. She's probably done with her tests. And it is mid-arvo."

"Will I… be able to… eat?"

"Not your normal food. You'll be on a special diet."

The blindfold was put back over Atticus's eyes. It was ostensibly to prevent him from knowing the layout of the facility, though he had relatively good spatial recall. Part of it was to ensure that he didn't see any other experiments. They took a different route to his room than the one they had taken on the way to the operating room. This path was shorter, but they had to round more corners.

"Hi, Atticus. Are you alright?"

They had arrived. Professor Heath removed the cloth from the boy's head, and Atticus smiled weakly at his recombinant friend. She was already working on lunch.

"As much as I can be." He lifted his shirt, showing her his cicatrices. Mirage winced.

A rubbersuit brought in his meal, a creamy stew with bits of green and brown; slightly minty, but the predominant flavor was that of meat. It was, in fact, one of the best things he'd ever eaten. He glanced over at Mirage, who was finishing off a doughy toroid filled with beans.

"Are you sure they didn't mix up our meal plans?"

"Ha, ha. I told you, my food isn't anything special." She prodded one of the rings. "These are rather bitter."

Atticus rolled his eyes and took another sip from his bowl. "How were your tests?"

"My arms are still sore, and I've got some bad bruises. They throw rocks at me, basically. Over and over."

"And you're supposed to cut them from the air."
She nodded. "In theory."
"I wish I could be as tough as you…" Atticus said sheepishly, tracing circles on the floor with his hand.

Mirage shook her head vigorously. "You're more resilient than I am, I think. If I had to go through the stuff you have to go through every day, I don't think I could do it and still be the same person. You, on the other hand… Atticus, you're invincible."

=·=·=·=·=

"Take advantage of his emotional dependency. Maim, don't kill. Got it." Heath was on the phone, gazing detachedly at the monitors. "You want me to do it in the cell? It's going to be messy. I'm not cleaning it up. No, I can't 'just tell my men to do it'. They're soldiers, not servants."

One of the other men in the room looked up from his crossword with a vexed look on his face. He opened his mouth as if to ask a question, then sighed and turned back to his puzzle.

"Fine. Yeah, I know. I don't see any reason to restrain the boy, only 24c1. I will. No, I'm not going to record the proceedings for your viewing pleasure. Slow your roll. I just work here. And, may I remind you, you're the only reason I work here to begin with."

Ajax, the unpaid intern, started snoring in the corner.

"Someone wake that boofhead up," Heath said to the room in general. He turned his attention back to the phone. "Dead set. I'm no blow-in, Cypress. We'll get started any tick of the clock, and Bob's your uncle. I'll see you when I get home. Love you too. Cheerio." He snapped the phone shut and turned to his men. "Get ready."

=·=·=·=·=

The guards came in and took away Mirage's food, but they left Atticus alone. Since he had no stomach, he needed all the extra calories he could get. So Mirage talked to him while he carefully ate his chowder, both of them waiting for the next test.

"What's with the clothes? Are they clothes, or…" Atticus asked.

"They're not attached to my body, if that's what you mean. The professors have always told me it's a cultural thing. All Gardevoir wear dresses - even the males."

"And… the spike?" Atticus pointed at his own chest.

"It's actually-"

"Stop talking, both of you," Heath interrupted. "It's time."

Some men walked into Mirage's cell and grabbed her by the arms, holding her in place. When she struggled, another guard grabbed a fistful of her air and pulled her head back.

"Hey! What are you doing?" Atticus shouted.

"Unfortunately… experiment 24c1 has been deemed a failure. Due to this, and as a result of her recent behavior, she is being put down." The professor walked into the room, blade in hand. Mirage's eyes filled with tears as she squirmed against her restraint.

"No!" Atticus began beating on the glass with his fists. His own tears were starting to flow. He heaved as a spurt of candy-red juice forced itself out of his throat, splattering on the transparent barrier.

Heath strolled over to the female recombinant and pressed his weapon against her neck.

"No!" There was an incredible pressure behind the boy's eyes as he watched his hopes fade away. "No!"

The blade began to cut into her soft flesh, and blood started to pool around the cold steel.

"I SAID NO!"

Time decelerated. Atticus screamed as he pummeled the plastic with all his might, violet eyes starting to glow, and the wall of vantaglass exploded. A wave of air pressure propagated from his clenched fist. Heath turned his head in slow motion toward the young man, eyes wide with shock, as the shards of glass drilled into the professor and his men at high velocity, piercing their armor and slamming them to the far side of the chamber. There they hung, pinned to the wall by the three-inch-long fragments. Vital fluid began to flow freely from the soldier's many wounds. Two of them expired immediately, but Professor Heath was not so lucky, left to regret his life decisions as they flashed before his eyes. Mirage and Atticus were untouched.

An alarm started wailing. "Code Indigo. Evacuate! Code Indigo. Evacuate!" it cried.

Atticus gaped with astonishment at his hand, then looked to his friend. "Mirage! Are you oka-"

"Don't hurt me!" she whimpered in terror, dulcet voice trembling. She flinched as he stepped toward her.

He froze. "Mirage, I… I was just trying to save-" Atticus started choking and collapsed, copper ichor bursting from his lips.

"Atticus! Oh, no," she whispered, realizing the betrayal of trust she'd committed. She rushed to his side, empathy for her only companion overriding survival instinct. "What did they do to you?!"

"It's just… no big deal. They… cut out my stomach…" he coughed.

"No, no, no. You don't get hemoptysis from successful gastrectomies. They must've damaged your bronchial tract. If I didn't know any better, I'd say it was accidental," she said, frowning disconsolately.

"Heh heh… guess it's my… expiration date."

"No. I can't accept that." She placed her hands on his chest and closed her eyes in concentration. A mellow radiance surrounded them. "I won't accept that."

"...What? What are you… doing?"

"Healing Pulse."

Atticus gasped as his system was flooded with energy, revitalizing his tired bones - like his regeneration, but a hundred million times faster. It was primal, and painful, like his body was ripping itself apart so that it could mend. He felt more full than he'd felt even before they had removed his innards. The blood stopped.

Mirage helped him to his feet. With no immediate crisis, Atticus became aware of the evacuation alert. He slowly grinned, the implications not lost on him.

"What are you smiling at? They're going to kill us."

"Somehow… I doubt that's the first thing on their minds." He limped over to the door. "They're evacuating. This place is going to be mostly empty. And our room…" he started laughing, "all our guards are dead."

The girl's pupils dilated. She smiled, too. "Can you… you know…" She began shadowboxing.

"I don't think so," Atticus muttered, brow furrowed. "That had a very specific feel to it, and I'm not feeling it. But… I kinda think…" He pressed his palm against the door lock and emulated his electrical surge of the other day. It came more easily this time, and the door slid open with a click. From behind, Mirage giggled and ruffled his hair. He turned to her with a quizzical look.

"Your hair got all puffy when you did that." She smiled.

Atticus gave a good-natured sigh. He started to leave the room, but hesitated at the door. "This… is the first time I've ever left my room of my own volition." He took a deep breath and crossed the threshold.

Mirage chuckled as she followed suit. "Lead on, oh fearless leader. Do you know how to get out of here?"

He nodded, scanning the hall. "More or less. But we've got a job to do." He found what he was looking for and walked toward it. Another door. Once there, he slammed his hand to the lock and sent a pulse of electricity into it.

"We don't have time to save every other recombinant," Mirage said worriedly, glancing around. She expected guards to show up at any minute.

The door slid open, but there was no one inside the cell. "I can't leave them!" he shouted.

"But-"

"They're people too!" He clenched his fists at his sides, head bowed. Then he stalked off to the next cell. It was empty as well.

"You're right. I'm… sorry."

Atticus stopped and turned, looking her in the eyes. He couldn't stay angry at her. His scowl waned. "That actually… sounds right." Her chest swelled with pride.

Suddenly, there was a loud rapping at the end of the hallway. The two of them turned with a start. Mirage backed away, but Atticus, against all common sense, dashed toward it. It was coming from behind one of the doors!

He rounded the corner and came face to face with one of the remaining soldiers. Evidently, they'd heard the knock as well.

"Recombinants LOS!" the unit barked, leveling the barrel of his submachine gun at his target. "You have the right to scream your head off!"

Atticus was caught by surprise and would have fallen to the drum of buckshot if not for Mirage. With lightning fast reflexes, the girl leapt in front of him, deflected a bullet, and chopped the soldier's head off with one clean stroke.

"I thought you were afraid of me."

She shook her head, eyes moist. "I shouldn't have been. I'm not going to let you dirty your hands alone."

The hatch opened on a dark room. Atticus squinted against the haze.

"Psst. Hey, buddy. Yeah, you," someone whispered from within. "Boy, do I have a great deal for you. An offer you can't refuse. The real McCoy."

"What?" Atticus asked, bewildered.

"Roll me outta here, and I'll shed some light on the whole shebang." A large, spiky mass shifted in the shadows. "Help me to help you to help… uh… you know what I'm saying."

"No, not really."

The recombinant sighed. "Really? That's really how we're going to play this? I can't move, you schmuck."

"Oh. Oh, I'm so sorry." Atticus scuttled in and seized the fellow, heaving him out into the light. As the rays of fluorescence hit the recombinant, they scattered, dazzling him and Mirage.

"Boom! Wait. You're not a guard. What is this? What is going on?" the purple and gold clam exclaimed, rolling away from the two teenagers. Where a pearl should have been was a sparkling crimson gemstone.

"You said you couldn't move!" Atticus accused.

"I'm photoambulatory! I can't move without light. Who are you?" The recombinant glanced around, recoiling at the sight of the decapitated soldier.

"Atticus. This is Mirage. We're breaking out of here," Atticus replied tersely. "What are you, and what's your purpose?"

"The name is Glint. I'm a glorified cash cow. Gold, mother of pearl. I might as well crap diamonds."

Mirage blanched. "So they-"

"Yes."

"And-"

"Moving on!" Atticus clapped his hands. "Glint, do you know where any other recombinants are?"

Glint's eye - Atticus assumed the gem was his eye - pulsed softly. "We're in the Delta block. Experiments are placed according to a base twelve positional matrix, so we should find others in every cell ending with digits that are factors of the radix."

The two humanoids stared at Glint with blank expressions. He sighed.

"I was in cell six. You would have been in cell four. Within Delta block, that leaves cells two, three, twelve, and the dot dot dot."

"You mean we were right next to another recombinant!" Atticus dashed off.

"Atticus! We don't have time! They'll send reinforcements!" Mirage shouted, chasing after him.

Glint rolled his eye. "Guess I'm a part of this, whether I like it or not," he said to himself, spinning after his two new accomplices.

They charged recklessly around the corner, only to find two guards doing the same. Both of them carried serious heat, and unlike the guard from before, these men were entirely without ruth.

"Targets LOS! Engaging!" one called into his communicator as they opened fire. Atticus and Mirage raised their arms in defense, caught by surprise and helpless to the onslaught, but Glint jumped in front of them and began gyrating rapidly. The shots glanced off his hide and were thrown wildly off course by his rotation. Now it was the soldiers' turn to be surprised.

"Disengage!" they yelled, running off, but it was too late. Glint tore off after them and slammed the men with his massive frame, crushing them to death. Atticus gaped.

"You said you were a cash cow!"

Glint said nothing, moving toward the occupied cell and humming softly to himself. The three of them went inside. Their stomachs began growling immediately, for the room was filled with food. Piles of roasted and fried meat; mounds of bread and cakes galore. Standing in the midst of this mess was a large, rotund, pink recombinant. The creature's eyes were closed, and if it had noticed them, it gave no indication.

"Uh, hello?" Atticus said, walking up to the person. "Are you awake?" Standing right in front of the recombinant, he had to crane his neck to see its face.

The pink thing inhaled deeply and opened its mouth. What came out next was not a sentence, but a tongue as long as the recombinant was tall. Atticus yelped as the tongue ploughed into him, knocking him down and pinning him to the floor.

"Hostile!" Mirage hissed, blades poised to strike.

"Hothtile? I'm Thmorguth. What'th going on?"

"Get off me!" Atticus shouted.

"Thmorguth?" Mirage asked, lowering her arms.

"No, not Thmorguth. Thmorguth."

"But you just said-"

"Am I chopped liver!"

"I think he said Smorgas," Glint whispered.

"Oh, I get it. What kind of recombinant?"

"Thnorlackth and Lickilicki."

"Snorlax and-"

"I've got it now, thanks."

"HEY!" Atticus hollered. "I am still the de facto leader here, and I'm being drenched in saliva!"

Smorgas stepped back, slurring apologies. Atticus stood and made a inefficacious attempt to wipe the spit off his body, muttering under his breath.

"We're going to need to split up."

"How are we going to do that? We need you to short-circuit the locks."

Glint wobbled back and forth. "Not necessarily. The locks are designed specifically against the recombinant within the cell. So, my lock was waterproof. Many of them will be simple pressure pads. And if that fails…"

"Improvithe," Smorgas nodded.

After Glint briefly explained the positional matrix to the newest member of their rag-tag group, the four of them split up. Atticus went toward the cells with higher numerals, Mirage close behind. Smorgas struggled to keep up the pace, but was actually surprisingly fast for a person of his size. He left them at cell thirteen, panting rapidly. Atticus expected Mirage to stop at cell fourteen, but she shook her head.

"I'm staying with you."

"Mirage…"

"I'm not living vicariously," she insisted, shaking her head.

"What does that even mean?"

She flushed. "I… I feel like we missed a moment. When you saved me and I…" Covering her face with her hands, she glanced away and muttered, "Besides, someone's got to look after you."

Atticus harrumphed, not having fully forgiven her. "Fine. Let's just get through this."

This chamber was filled with large rocks, the floor covered in sand. There didn't appear to be anyone inside, but why would an empty chamber be so painstakingly designed? Thinking that the person within might be disguised as a rock, somehow, the two of them entered.

"Anyone home?" Atticus called out. There was a blur, almost too fast for the eye to follow, and suddenly there was a weapon in his face. He'd barely dodged what would have been a nasty blow to the skull.

"Impressive reflexes. But not as good as Professor Monkey-puzzle. You are not trained in the martial arts," a tall, bipedal recombinant said calmly. He looked vaguely avian, and wore another animal's skull over his own. He was also the same color as the ground, which explained why they hadn't seen him.

"Uh… no," Atticus replied, pushing the boy's weapon, a bone as long as he was tall, out of his face. "I'm sorry, but who…?"

"Ah. My apologies. I am called Arden." Without another word, the boy walked out, waiting for them in the hall.

"Glad you're preemptive about this," Atticus muttered as he followed. He told Arden where to go next before taking off with Mirage.

The next cell was, strangely, devoid of steel. The walls and floor were covered in wood. Once again, the recombinant was not in sight.

"Hey! You're big."

Atticus jumped. Hovering beside his head was the smallest creature he'd ever seen. It had a long, grey body with a large eye set into the center of its head. There were two screws near the bottom of its torso. There were three claws sticking out of its rear end, as well as another screw.

"What's with all the one-eyed creeps?" Mirage whispered. Atticus snorted.

"I heard that. Let's go!"

"No questions? No introduction?"

"None needed." He floated out of the cell, humming to himself.

"Three screws, and all of them are loose," Mirage snickered. "I'm going to call him Trike."

"It suits him. I don't trust him to recover any recombinants by himself.

"Neither do I. He'll have to stick with us."

Another guard showed up. Atticus, determined to prove to Mirage that he didn't need a babysitter, stepped between her and the soldier.

"Atticus, don't…"

"I can handle myself, Mirage."

"I have a visual on-"

"Shut up!" Atticus said. His hair began to rise from the static in his veins. "You're all the same!" He flicked his hand at the soldier, as if throwing a dagger, and a lightning bolt lept from him to the enemy, electrocuting the soldier to death.

"Ooh," Trike said. "Toasty."

"If you're so worried about reinforcements arriving, take Trike and go," Atticus ordered. Mirage frowned. It wasn't that she thought her companion couldn't take care of things by himself; she just didn't want to lose him.

But Atticus's eyes were rigid with determination, so reluctantly, she nodded and left. He sighed. The boy knew it was for the best, but he couldn't help but feel like he'd lost a piece of himself.

He moved down the empty steel halls. The ceiling lights flickered, but the lines of luminescence on the walls held steady. The whole situation was ominous. Why hadn't they sent all that many reinforcements? Perhaps it was a remote facility, and difficult for them to access. On the other hand, it could be located in a very public area; the scientists wouldn't be able to afford any unnecessary exposure, which would certainly happen if they sent in huge swarms of armed troops to a public facility.

The few guards that did show up weren't specialized at all, as if they didn't know which recombinants had escaped. How was that possible? His and Mirage's cells had both been equipped with security cameras. As smart as he was, Atticus couldn't arrive at any satisfactory conclusion, each answer only leading to more questions.

Cell Twenty-two. This would be the second to last recombinant Atticus himself liberated. He opened the door. Standing right in front of him was a curvaceous girl with wolfish features and large, downy ears. Like Mirage, this girl had a spike in the center of her chest, though hers was monochromatic and conical. She stood with a hand on her hip.

"Hey. You're cute!"

"Wha-" Atticus exclaimed, flushing. "Why are you standing right there?"

"Call it a hunch. And I'll call you a hunk," she winked.

Atticus was speechless. This was absolutely not what he had expected. "I don't even know how to respond to that."

The girl giggled, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and pulling him close. "Then don't," she whispered. "You can call me Nina."

A shiver went down his spine. "A-A-Atticus," he stuttered. "W-we really don't have time for this."

"Maybe later, then," she smirked, releasing him.

He briefly explained what was going on and what she should do. She stood uncomfortably close to him the entire time. Then she went off in a way that could only be described as part strut and part bounce. The fluffy tail set just above her firm buttocks swayed to and fro as she swaggered down the hall, leaving Atticus to grapple with unfamiliar emotions.

=·=·=·=·=

"Oh no."

"Is… is there a problem?"

"You could say that," Mirage sighed, running a hand through her hair. Floating in front of her was a creature made entirely of dessert. Part ice cream and part cotton candy, even she had the urge to sink her teeth into him.

"But you're not actually edible, right?" she asked hopefully.

"I… I am. E-edible, that is to s-say," the recombinant stuttered. He wouldn't look her in the eye. "That's w-why they made me."

"You poor thing. Don't worry. We're getting out of here." She gestured to the hall. As he left his room, she said to herself, "Just as long as Smorgas doesn't try to eat you himself."

=·=·=·=·=

She had him backed into a corner. Really, he should have seen her immediately, as she was a giant insect, but he'd been distracted by the yellow syrup dripping from the walls. Who could blame him? He didn't want to get slimed again.

This girl was vicious. Her torso was a beehive in and of itself, and she hovered above the ground on four dragonfly wings. Her hands - if you could even call them that - looked like they could snap a man in two, and it was with one of these that she reached for him.

Atticus closed his eyes, bracing himself for his inevitable demise. Instead, the girl began to gently caress his face with the blunt exterior of her claw. And just like that, it went from being incredibly scary to being incredibly uncomfortable.

"You look weak, but you have much power. It is alluring," she buzzed, nuzzling his face.

"Please get off of me," Atticus begged, leaning as far back as possible. He didn't think to question how she knew of his powers.

The girl complied with his request, more leisurely than he would have liked, and Atticus took a few moments to regain his composure. "I'm Atticus," he said.

"My lord," she bowed. There was that blush again. "I, Hecate, am at your… service." He didn't like the way she emphasized the word.

"Um. Hecate. Can I call you Kate?"

"You can call me whatever you'd like."

"Ri-ight." Why couldn't this cell have contained a nice, normal monster boy?

=·=·=·=·=

Finally, the recombinants met up at Glint's cell, thirteen of them in total. Atticus led the way. He didn't know where an actual exit was, but judging by all the steps he'd taken in his life, there was one hall in particular with no left-hand turns. Hopefully, beyond this wall was the mysterious outside world.

"Everyone. I know that we all just met, but I hope that you can learn to trust each other. I will lead you, no matter what happens. A lot has happened over the course of the last hour. Some of you may have taken the life of another sentient being for the first time. Do not regret it. They will not hesitate to do the same to you." He had their full attention. "Our whole lives, we've known only the confines of this place and the cruelties inflicted upon us. Now, I'm asking you to take a leap of faith. Beyond this wall is something, something both wonderful and terrifying. I don't know what to expect, and I need your help." Atticus clenched his fist. "We're going to blow a hole in this wall! Who's with me?"

The recombinants were silent. Atticus deflated. Then, Mirage stepped up to him and took his hand. "I am."

Arden pressed his palms together and bowed. "I would be honored to fight at your side."

"I'm down to get down with it," Glint said.

"Oy vey. Looks like we're mishpocheh now." That was Galatea, a recombinant with Miltank and Gogoat genes. One by one, the other recombinants voiced their approval, and a sense of community blossomed. Atticus's eyes were wet, for once not with sadness but with joy.

They backed away from the wall, Atticus and Glint standing side by side, apart from the rest. Glint would shoot a jet of high-pressure water at the wall, and Atticus would supercharge it with electricity.

"Don't leave me."

Atticus stood motionless. He had heard someone distinctly, as if there was a person standing right next to him, but it didn't sound like any of the recombinants he'd met.

"Cell Zero."

It might be a trap. But if it wasn't… Atticus knew what had to be done.

"You guys wait here! I've got something I need to do!" he yelled, taking off.

"Atticus!" Mirage screamed with desperation. "Stop playing hero!"

He returned briefly, taking Mirage by the hands. "I am so sorry, Mirage. I can't do that. All my life, I've been a selfish little brat. It's time for me to grow up and be a man."

She put a hand to her chest, breathless, as he ran away. The change that had come over him ever since killing the professor was remarkable. Was that her fault?

=·=·=·=·=

The final room was dimly lit. Lying in the middle of the floor were three seemingly inanimate objects. A sword, its sheath, and a shield. The only indication of life was a bright orange eye staring at him from the sword's hilt.

"You came," the sword said weakly.

"No easy feat, finding you. Why are you not sorted by the matrix?"

"Look around you. These walls… the glass… it all comes from me. I'm the most valuable recombinant. They hid me, because they can't afford to lose me."

"I thought vantaglass and moinvar were made from normal Pokémon."

"A half-truth fashioned by a master of propaganda. These special materials require metal from my blade in order to function at full strength. Without me, they would be more easily destroyed. They take their power from the shock of an ending, so to speak."

"So they carve off parts of your body to solidify their control," he said with disgust. "I imagine it's painful?"

"Yes. I am drained by it. I require your aid."

Atticus scooped up the items in his arms and sped towards his new family. "What's your name?"

"I am Ferrous, for that is what I am."

"Shaped like yourself, I see."

"My escape will be a severe blow to them. They will not rest until they find me."

Atticus sighed. "They'd kill to find any single one of us. All of us escaping together? It's going to shake the universe."

"Hey, boss!" Glint called out when he saw him. "We waited, just like you said! 'Course, Arden and Tiamat tried to bust out on their own."

"I did no such thing."

"Why are you dragging me into this?" Tiamat complained, a squid-like girl covered in slime. "We just met!" She slapped Glint with a gooey tendril, leaving behind a viscous lilac residue.

Atticus and Glint stood together, apart from the other recombinants. Glint shot his water and Atticus unleashed the lightning, but it had no effect on the metal barrier.

"Let me." Drasil, a jewel-encrusted tree, stepped forward. A recombination of Gigalith and Trevenant DNA, he was by far the largest member of the group, despite being younger than Atticus. He drew his fist back and drove it into the steel, which crumpled like wet tissue under the stone titan's mighty blow.

Suffuse brilliance spilled into the building, unlike any illumination they'd ever seen before. The smell, earthy and pure, blew in on a lazy breeze. Swathes of dark green stuff covered the floor outside. The recombinants lingered briefly. Despite how awful their existence had been, it was all they'd ever known. Then, for the first time in their lives, they stepped beyond the sterile halls. Atticus took the lead as they hustled away from the facility.

They were finally free. For now.