Griffin
An ear shattering scream errupted in the house and I dropped the pile of plates I'd been carrying, eyes and ears straining to find the source of that one horrendous noise. Kichiro all but broek the door down while trying to enter the kitchen, and Mist knocked her chair over. Rhaksha automatically got her knife from her boot, copying Eila's mannerism.
"Eila and Bobby!" Mist shouted, and we ran up the stairs. I kicked down the door and found Bobby desperately clining to Eila's hand, eyes unfocused. A greenish glow surrounded both of them and Eila shuddered, eyes flickering back and forth but not seeming to take anything in.
"Eila!" Mist shouted. Eila screamed and scurnched her eyes closed, lashing out blindly and sending Mist straight into the wall. Rhaksha tried to rip Bobby off Eila, but she hissed and withdrew, hands looking red and burnt.
Bobby cried out once again and fell to his knees, breathing hard. The glow faded and Eila stumbled. Kichiro caught her and gently set her down on the floor.
"What's going on?" I demanded. Mist looked bewildered and Rhaksha's mouth was pressed into a grim line.
"Griffin." Rhaksha's eyes flicked to Eila's outstretched arm.
Scars covered them like sleeves, leaving a patchwork of identifying marks. None of her was spared.
"Eila, what is this?" Kichiro whispered, tracing the scars around her wings. Eila swiped her hand across her face and sat, bringing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.
"It's a long, painful, frightening story," she mumbled. Eila took a deep breath.
We plunged headfirst into her nightmare.
The fluorescent strip light flickered and faded, light coming in intermittent bursts that faded just as quickly as they came. An experiment turned over, slithering, and curled into a foetal position. Eila huddled closer into her grimy chocolate brown wings, trying to avoid notice. She pushed further into the shadows at the back of the Kanine Kamper, away from eyes that seemed to want to dissect her with every glance.
Thera, one of the more klepto avians, muttered a disjointed nursery rhyme while rocking herself back and forth.
Round and round the dissection lab,
the doctors chased the weasel...
Via growled at her and Bitter hissed, exposing his snake-like fangs. The mad tune danced and flurried, permeating into the deepest reaches of the room. Thera grinned wildly, pushed into that zone where all reality lost meaning; where time would melt and wither away until a slap in the face brought it back.
The door squeaked open, and Dr. Olsen and Dr. Windham walked in. They wheeled a cart each, and scanned down the rows. They stopped in front of Demmi's crate, roughly slinging it onto a cart as the tiny weasel-mutant twitched in fear. They stopped in front of Eila's crate and hefted her onto the other cart.
Olsen went out and brought in a batch of Erasers. Two took over wheeling the carts and the rest served as an escort for the scientists and the mutants. They split off at the for between testing rooms #48- 0 and #47-9.
Demmi whimpered as they took her to #48-0.
Eila shivered and tucked her wings in. Two erasers nearly tore the door off her crate and grabbed her none too gently by the arms. They dragged her up the stairs and into the platform above the Tank. A couple of whitecoats took over and hooked her up to electrodes before slipping a mask onto her face. The Erasers threw her into the Tank, and Eila felt the viscous liquid slap and squelch as she sank into it. The tube connected to the mask started to feed oxygen, and the Tank-sludge began to hum and glow.
Eila's eyes flickered shut, and whitecoats began to flips switches and turn dials.
Eila screamed.
Her limbs jerked violently as the alternate-reality simulator generated an imagined situation. This time, it was a test of her reaction to pain. The metallic nano-particles in the Tank gel snapped together and red lines began to open, crisscrossing over Eila's skin. She screamed again, and slammed her fist into an imaginary opponent.
Data logged on the computer, priceless bytes of information worth millions.
Eila shivered and shook her hair, vainly trying to dislodge the yellowish sludge. They wheeled her down the #47 corridor, into the #48 corridor, and past the open door leading into #48-0.
On the table was Demmi. Her hands and feet were tied to two different metal bars, and her arms were lying out from their sockets at an odd angle. Her legs were definitely dislocated. Demmi's eyes were open and glassy, and tear tracks dampened her cheeks. Her face was frozen in a scream, and her body was ripped in two completely. Eila turned away, struggling to keep her meagre breakfast down. No matter how many times she saw victims of the Stretcher, it never got any easier to bear.
Blood sprayed across the churned sand and Eila grunted, picking herself up and blocking the next attack that the bat-mutant sent at her.
Bitter hissed at Via and she smirked, crossing her arms. Her freshly purple-streaked hair gleamed in the fluorescent strip lights and her fancy-shmancy human clothes did nothing to appease the rest of the mutants. They growled and shifted, angered by the betrayal of one of their own. Thera laughed wildly, and screamed at Via.
"You're just a pawn, darling! You're just a tiny piece in this game!" she giggled, squealing and clapping her hands. She laughed madly, that vacant look in her eyes as they rolled back and forth, wide open. She laughed and exclaimed again.
"Dead before sunrise!"
Via growled and her Eraser escort picked up Thera's cage and threw it into the wall. Thera smirked and rubbed the back of her hand across her bleeding mouth. The wild glee was replaced by an almost sane, conniving look.
"Oh, yes, darling. Definitely dead."
Endless round after endless round of mazes, test-fights, sleep deprivation trials, starvation sessions; season after season of pain, agony, mindless violence and cruelty.
Scream, after scream, after scream.
Shock tests, blood samples. Running for hours to test the limits of her stamina. Food allocation reduced little by little to test her body's endurance. Every time they brought her back, beaten, battered, starved, Eila desperately prayed that they'd leave her alone. They never did. Time lost its meaning and Eila almost went over the edge.
Until she saw the sky. Through the window. The open window.
Mist shuddered and Bobby sobbed, tucked against Rhaksha. A haunted look was in Eila's eyes, and Kichiro encircled her with his arms. I rubbed Mist's head and she sniffled, wiping away a stray tear.
Rhaksha shakily got to her feet, and brushed off her pants.
"No offense or anything, but after this whole angst-fest, I need chocolate. Like, badly," she said flatly.
Eila blinked and laughed. Kichiro bit his lip and forced his chuckles to stay down. Anne popped in and looked at us strangely.
"Guys, dinner's getting cold!" she said, exasperated. Mist giggled and I grinned.
"We're coming. We're coming," I said.
