My wrist is sprained. It fucking sucks. My left hand is useless and basically tangible pain. *sighs* one-handed typing sucks. You're lucky I'm bored.

I happen to be the all-time queen of procrastination, so it's taking me forever to write this. I'm sorry and I feel pretty guilty.

Chapter Nine

Phoenix

Goddamnit. Jeb's a fucking asshole. He said they would kill me while in the S.D. tank. I hate that fucking liar, I really do. I stood up and glared at him. Why did he have to exist? Life would be so much easier if it just ended. I sighed (again).

"Jeb, you have twenty seconds before I kill myself. Explanation of why you lied to me about the wonderful possibility of a nice, painless death starts now."

He looked slightly taken aback at this, but quickly regained his composure, "and how exactly would you do that, may I ask?" he smirked.

"Easy," I smiled at the idea of death, "I would kill you, because you know CPR, tear off a piece of your shirt and shove it down my throat. Easy as pie." He glared at me, knowing full well that I meant it, "15… 14… 13… 12…"

"Shit! Okay, I care about you," man, he just started and already had earned a snort from me (which he ignored), "so I decided to set you free again. On your own." that caught my attention.

"No one around to save me if I kill myself?" I asked, countdown paused.

"Past the usual humans, who are useless in the first place, no. But, in return for letting you go, I'd like you to live for at least another month. You can just go out on your own or I can get you a house for you to live in. You will have a bottomless credit card hooked up to my account, as well as new set of clothes and food supplies for a week." I looked at Jeb.

"Then what happens if I kill myself?"

Jeb shrugged, "You die. It's regrettable, but if it's truly what you want, it's inevitable." I'm liking this idea. No one really cares what he wants, especially not me. So maybe I'll take his offer, spend all of his money, and then I'll kill myself. This might just be fun. Fun. I haven't fun in years. Pain has replaced fun. Pain and misery and madness. Madness. The craziness and anger that plagued me... plagues me.

"We have a deal," I said. I think Jeb knew my plan, but was letting me go anyway. Why? I have no clue. I don't think anyone really understood him. Poor little thing, wah, wah, go find mommy. He led me to a cage. Freedom and cages do not mix. Mixing, like they mixed my DNA. Avian, human, and god knows what else, now. Hmm…now. Now, I had to deal with Jeb.

"Another cage? And I thought you were promising freedom. How insulting. Wait, no. how is that insulting? Is it rude? No, it's disappointing. Whoops. That's what I meant. How disappointing." I can tell that I'm different, crazier, but I can't bring myself to care. Oh well, it's not like anyone else does.

"There's a truck of mutants a truly insane colleague of mine is driving out to a different branch of Itex tonight. He has agreed to "accidentally" crash the truck. I've helped rig it so all the security measures break down and all the mutants will be released. You will be smuggled into the truck, but you have to put on the collar. It will prevent you from speaking, but everything in there has one. Use this to get it off once you've escaped. It should open all the collars." He handed me some sort of remote. I noticed how he said "everything" instead of "everyone". Once a whitecoat, always a whitecoat, I guess. Jeb's always been an evil bastard, whitecoat or not. No one cares what he says. Right?

I clambered into the cage, not really paying attention to the pain screaming through her lower back when I bent down. I put the pack in the corner and curled up over it. Even if it looked awkward, no one cared enough to look. Or looked enough to care. I felt it lurch and heard the wheels rolling. It wasn't long before I felt myself being hoisted and shoved onto a truck. I stared at the collar in my hands.

"Put it on. Dr. Kelson's coming." I heard Jeb mutter. My hearing had been altered, and now was better. Like everything else they "improved", including my shitty life. I forced the stupid thing around my throat. The immediate pressure almost made me press the button, but I was stronger than that. Maybe.

"What's this?" the whitecoat Jeb called Dr. Kelson asked.

"Oh, a late addition to the testing group. It's a current clone of 54-162a. It's kind of a failure in the cognitive department, but it has great reflexes and an amazing power. For some weird reason they refuse to kill the original, so they're using clones for brain samples. Works for me." Jeb said, and I could hear the untrustworthiness, the lies, and the basic slimy Jeb-ness dripping from his voice. Kelson peered at me, attempting to study me. I'm not a test, I'm not an ancient civilization, and I'm not an it! Don't fucking study me! I silently screamed.

Eventually, Kelson let Jeb load me up onto the silent truck, high in the stacks, with the lack of noise only broken by coughs, wheezes and the occasional strangled whimper. I lay there silently, readying the remote that will free my throat. I tried to talk just to see what would happen, and immediately regretted it as I started hacking up a lung, which at some point got kind of throaty, setting it off again. A few minutes later, I got it under control and resumed my earlier position, curled up at the bottom of my cage. Suddenly, with a loud crash, the truck stopped. My cage fell to the side, maybe a twenty-foot drop, not breaking any of my now enforced bones, but leaving some nasty bruises. Every door in the giant truck opened or smashed, and I quickly scrambled out of the cage and the ruined "door". Then I paused. I'm free. For how long? I, could do what I wanted, when I wanted. How do you know this is not some cruel trick? This was a new chapter of my life. And it may be your last.