Hello hello, and welcome to a new chapter!
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WARNING, THIS CHAPTER IS RATED M+
When Jaio saw the new boy accompanying the other human scum to a room they knew very well, his very first thought was that there was no way in hell that that could actually be a Kaiju. It had to be the son of one of the scientists.
The new boy stood quietly beside the visiting general. His face was very calm. That was very odd. His hair was blond and quite untidy. It had recently been trimmed. His legs were long and slender. They looked like the legs of a girl, he smirked. The new boy wore simple brown shoes. His socks were white and clean, without a single smudge or stain. His large eyes looked almost sleepy, and were a simple brown. He could not have been more than twelve years old.
The supervisors were all very interested in the new boy. They hovered around him like starving vultures. He really could not blame them for staring; he was only eighteen centuries, but looking at the new boy made him feel… really, really weird.
A brown haired woman, a doctor, was staring at the boy with particularly eager eyes.
Every Kaiju in The Kindergarten knew that look, and what it meant (or would mean if the child was one of them). The new boy was not going to last a month. None of Peterson's favorites ever did. She and the other scientists played rough, and they tended to break their toys… literally. The lucky ones were those who stopped being useful real fast. The lucky ones had managed not to break before they became bored. They got scars from a thousand wounds, and bruises, and repeatedly broken bones, but at least they survived. One or two had broken and gone crazy.
He almost pitied the new boy.
Jaio himself was not a particularly useful male. His scales were too soft to be an impenetrable armor. He had very pronounced jaws with relatively large, protruding teeth.
Anything that made you stand out generally put you in very big trouble. Everyone knew what happened to nails that stood out. Soldiers could not be individuals. War machines could only be war machines.
It was clear to him that the new boy would never be a soldier. Not with that face. Not with those long, slender legs.
He stared. He could not help it.
Apparently his gaze was hard enough to catch the other boy's attention, because at that point the newcomer turned, and glanced over at him.
And that was when it happened.
Their eyes met, and held. Immediately, his breath caught.
He saw it.
It was something inside those eyes that immediately captivated him. It was a strange and very alluring thing that he could sense living inside the other boy. It felt… it almost was… like…charisma? ...Magnetism? …Power?
No. That was not it. Those words were not enough.
He knew no words for what it was he saw.
It was deep and dark and weird and made no sense. He had no idea what it was. All he knew was that he was recklessly drawn to it. Unconsciously, he found himself leaning forward. The act was purely instinctive. He was completely absorbed by the other boy, and too utterly entranced by what he was seeing inside him to notice the fact that his body had moved. The raw, almost desperate yearning on his own face would have appalled him if he had known it was there.
The new boy turned away at once.
His breath caught. He jerked back as if he had been slapped.
Then his eyes narrowed, and he glared.
Jaio was furious.
And to think he had almost felt sorry for the snobby bastard!
The fingers that were resting under him were actually shaking with a mixture of very childish hurt and anger.
He wiped his eyes, sniffed, and frowned.
It was stupid to cry over something like this. He was far too old for this crap. He had not cried over anything for over the thirteen years he had been trapped. He wasn't about to start because of this.
Babies cried, not people who dreamed of conquering the world.
After several deep breaths, he calmed down a little. There really was no point getting upset. Not when he knew what was going to happen to the new boy (or could have, but Jaio liked to fantasize). It had happened to all of them, no matter how tough they had once thought that they were.
When a newcomer was brought into their area, the one with Kaiju in 'teenage' years, he was immediately moved into Block Number 5, which was a temporary boarding facility. All newcomers were expected to remain there for preliminary profiling, and medical, physical and psychological exams. It was a process that generally took about a week. Once all the test results were in, the child would be given a number, and then assigned to a cage. There were usually four boys in each area, and interactions between the cagemates were very carefully monitored. The floor overall had more or less 20 rooms, Jaio thought.
Jaio's number was 37.
Everyone in there knew that there were certain tests carried out in Block Number 5 that were strictly off the record.
There was one test in particular that was carried out in the room the boys called the 'initiation room.'
It was an open secret that the authorities in charge did nothing about. Everyone knew that the 'initiation' was regarded as an unofficial part of the experiment itself.
The purpose of MEGTAF not bothering to kill them was to breed the perfect soldiers; to create a secret military force that would obey any order that they were given without question. The place bred you to have no past, no future and no conscience. After, you lost all understanding of the concept of emotion. You did not know mercy and you lost the capacity to feel remorse. You became a machine without a soul that hid itself in flesh. You were frankly capable of doing anything you were ordered to without thinking twice.
And as unscrupulously evil and nauseatingly foul as the idea was, the fastest way to strip a child of his self worth, his free will, and ultimately his humanity, was by a clinical and studied application of brutal, consistent and dehumanizing physical and emotional abuse. The combined trauma usually eroded his self esteem and made him question any values and any sense of right and wrong, or any consciousness of his own individuality and self worth he might have once had. Ultimately, it made him more open to suggestion, easier to control, easier to instruct, and easier to indoctrinate.
Animals were a lot easier to train than human beings, than Kaiju. And that was what that grooming process did. It removed everything that made you from you. It turned you into an unthinking beast that could easily be trained and controlled.
The Authorities in charge of it knew this far too well. The torture and frequently recurring abuse were just as vital to achieving their goals as were the unconventional use of drugs, the hypnosis, the electroshock treatments, the occasional sleep deprivation and constant interrogations.
Not all the boys in MEGTAF understood this, but he did.
And that was exactly why he was already a leader of his cagemates.
He looked at the new boy and smiled. It was a nasty, vindictive little smile.
Sometimes, when the population grew too high, they grouped Kaiju in cages. Sometimes they didn't even bothered checking up on them. If only that were to happen to that boy…
He wondered just how smug that boy would be when his high and mighty face was covered in cuts and bruises. He doubted the new boy would remain that stuck-up after repeatedly taking it up his ass like a back-alley whore.
He certainly looked like the type who would enjoy it, he thought spitefully.
But even as he thought this, his gut told him without equivocation that that person would never submit to anyone. He was angry, however, so he firmly ignored it. It was far more therapeutic to dismiss the other boy as a worthless catamite.
The truth was that here, there were those who did enjoy it. None of them had at first, but few had soon learned to. Some of them, like him, still hated it in spite of the occasional pleasure. He could tolerate the other things if he had to, there were even some things he would cautiously admit felt really good, but not… that.
At least he was fairly lucky. He did not have to deal with that all that time anymore, just twice a month or so, and a bit more if he wasn't careful.
He was usually very careful.
And he had even that much respect because he had fought for it. He had clawed, fought, manipulated, and murdered his way up to this level. He was a fighter; the leader of his own group for that matter. MEGTAF was a place that separated wolves from sheep, and separated the pack leaders from the ordinary wolves. He was young, but he was a pack leader. Every boy in the section knew him. He was tough, and his followers were tough too. They were not the strongest, but they were strong enough to survive, and were already planning how to escape from there. And the physical strength his group lacked was made up for by their ability to control and manipulate others. His little group had some of the best brainwashers and psychological terrorists in the Kindergarten. The boys in his group were not all that big… the oldest among them was twelve centuries and the youngest was five, but they rarely lost any fight, physical or mental, that they got into. The only people who really scared them were the humans, and some of the bigger kids, who they stayed away from.
That was how you survived here.
The constant, violence and occasionally fatal skirmishes between various groups were fairly normal. The routine tests, constant drugging, unpredictable experiments, and humiliating interrogations were enough trouble without having to worry about getting your ass kicked, getting raped by one of the perpetually horny puberty- ridden seniors, or getting killed outright.
But at least, he no longer had to worry too much about rape anymore. The supervisors usually gave the leaders some respite, provided they kept their 'little gangs' in order.
He doubted that arrogant new boy would last long enough in this place to earn even that level of respect.
Still, for all his anger, he knew what he had seen in those eyes. When you became the leader of a group, you soon learned to distinguish stupid little sheep from wolves. The more wolves you had on your side, the better. However, you also had to be able to tell that a wolf was a pack leader the minute you saw it. Knowing how to do this was very important. Having two pack leaders in one group only caused trouble. He knew. That was how he had become the leader of his group, the group that had been before the War. Their last boss has not been able to tell the difference between an ordinary wolf and a pack leader. That had been very sad.
It was strange how you really could achieve a lot of great things with just a rock, especially when you took your time to sharpen it to a really fine point.
He smiled softly at the memory.
He had honestly enjoyed himself, giggling enthusiastically while his former boss writhed and bled and struggled and screamed until his throat gave out. The other boys had stared in horror while collectively struggling not to throw up. No one in their group dared to question his authority after watching him play his jiggle the rock game, and his position as leader was firmly established when the healers reported that even if, by some miracle, their former leader had managed to survive the physical damage to his brain, he would never have been able to see with that eye ever again.
It was no surprise that he fully appreciated how important it was to recognize a pack leader when he saw one.
And that was why the indifferent message in those eyes had hurt him so much.
Insignificant, presumptuous, unworthy peon; know your place, and stay in it.
Belatedly, he spotted a new, empty cage, and realized the boy had to be a Kaiju, like them (even though why would anyone go willingly there was a mystery to him). He hoped, earnestly, that someone would beat the conceited little bastard to death before the week ran out.
He was not the only one who noticed the new boy. The blonde had caused quite a stir.
"Wekir says Barnes breaks his arm before the week runs out."
"Nah. Too young. He is going try to be careful with this one. I'd say a month, maybe even two."
"Hey, what do you think? Wimp, Warrior or Whore?"
"Whore."A cold snicker, "Definitely whore."
"I was thinking Wimp. He looks like the type who'd cry for mommy while taking it."
"Did you take a good look at him? That ass says Whore."
"Face says Wimp, Dickhead."
"Wimp for three days, maybe, Whore after that."
In the collectively twisted logic of the children of the 'Kindergarten', a Wimp was a pathetic little scaredy cat who could easily be bullied into letting himself be abused. Such a child was a joke, nothing but potential cannon fodder, weak and absolutely useless. No one wanted wimps in their groups, and they were the ones who suffered the most in there, because everyone had a license to bully them. Even the lowest of the low could do whatever he wanted with a wimp.
A Whore was one who probably started out as a Wimp or Warrior, but soon started to enjoy it, and adapted accordingly. Whores were deceitful. You could not trust them. They were the ones who looked out for their own best interests, and had no interests except what would please them. This was not necessarily a bad thing, but it was something the leaders had to be careful to take note of. Whores were infinitely resourceful and could adapt to anything, and they had their peculiar uses. But having too many whores in one group almost always led to its downfall.
A Warrior was one who let it happen because he had no choice, he was forced to, but even so he kept trying to fight, or at least talk his way out of it. It was understood that no child would ever be able to prevent the abuse from happening, no matter what he did or how much he fought. But making a reasonable attempt to stop it was what actually separated the true fighters from the victims. True Warriors were rare. They were the wolves. They were the useful ones. The ones that were always sought after by and fought over by rival gangs.
It was all primarily a thing of status.
The weird thing, he realized, was that it never crossed any of their minds that the boy might just possibly be a Warrior.
He did not blame them. They had not looked into that boy's eyes. They had only seen the face and slender body.
But he had seen those eyes, and he had a gut feeling. His instincts about people were rarely ever wrong.
Besides, no wimp or whore could make him of all people cry like an ordinary babe just by looking at him.
He knew that the boy was not just a wolf, not just a pack leader. He was something far more threatening. But he also knew that, for some reason he himself did not fully understand, he wanted the new boy in his group. It was just a simple feeling he had. His group mostly survived on being able to manipulate and control others. That boy belonged with his own group and no one else's.
If he won this bet, he would have first dibs.
He was not one to pass up a chance to get in an advantage.
"Your dinners for a week for me and my boys. Warrior."
Make that two advantages.
Everyone stared at him. Then as a group, they burst into loud, uproarious laughter.
"Good one." "Didn't see that coming." "Warrior? Ha!" "Yeah right."
"I was not joking"
Even the boys in his own group looked at him as if he had suddenly gone crazy.
Then 19, Kajeigh, snorted. He was one of the older ones; probably twenty one centuries. He was okay. Not as screwy as some of the other seniors, but you did not want to mess with him. The guy was huge. He was officially the biggest boy in the base now that his best friend, 17, Nihaa, was no longer there. It was sad because all the boys who had known him had really liked him. 17 had been the very definition of a Gentle Giant… extremely tall, a reasonable cross between lanky and muscular, with a thin face and a characteristically large, beaky nose. Those who could still remember 17 knew that he had been one of the kindest boys who had ever lived in there… But that did not mean that he was a pushover. Get on his wrong side, and he went 'Magnificent Heisha' on your ass. During his stay, every single inmate developed a very healthy respect for his ability to beat people to bloody, pulpy corpses with nothing but his fists.
When 17 was here, he and 19 had been regarded as the strongest boys in the Zone 55, but he could always be counted on to curb some of his best friend's excesses.
But 17 was gone. And 19 was examining the smaller boys with a very predatory smirk.
And he was a guy with a reputation for raw, unrestrained, brutality, and who was almost impossible to take down in a fight. Unlike his friend, he was not a nice guy; the only thing that was even remotely sentimental about him was his fondness for their weekly ration of gazelles. He also had a reputation for being as horny as hell. It was a terrible thing, because he was famous for not being as considerate as someone of his remarkable size should have been.
This quality did not bode well for the wary little boys he was studying. Sexual intimidation among the test subjects was technically forbidden in there, but that had never stopped anyone before.
He looked squarely into 37's eyes.
"You are very sure of yourself, aren't you?" He sneered. "What's your stake then, Bitch?"
It was suddenly very quiet. The crowd of hard eyed boys watched; their mouths twisted in cold, borderline indifferent smiles.
Jaio did not flinch. He maintained eye contact and did not back down.
"Dinners for Dinners," he said. "For one week."
"Dinners for dinners," he agreed. "And then, after you have lost the bet, you and your lucky little bitches also get to suck our cocks on demand for the full week."
Everyone was immediately very interested. Whooping, hollering, whistling, crude comments, harsh laughter and catcalls filled the air. The older boys were positively leering.
The younger boy's group members were not happy. Most of them could barely hide their alarm.
Jaio remained absolutely calm.
As soon as the bigger boys had gone, he closed his eyes as, mentally, his group gathered around him, alarmed, panicked, and angry. They asked him, among other less savory things, just what the hell he thought he was doing.
He laughed in his quiet, peculiar way.
"Just wait." was all he said. "You'll see."
Some rolled their eyes. Some grumbled. Some moaned. They really hated it when he went all mysterious on them.
He arched a thin, angular eyebrow. "You know, you guys really could show some faith in your leader." His eyes narrowed, but his lips remained stretched out in an incongruously cheerful smile. "I feel very upset about this."
Yes, they really hated it when he went all mysterious on them. But they had to admit it was much better than when he went utterly, nastily, bat-shit insane.
So collectively, they backed off. They all knew that their leader was vindictive enough not to forget any boy who actually questioned his authority. It was far better than getting themselves killed in surprisingly… creative ways, or worse, being talked into killing each other.
It never occurred to them to think that they might actually win the bet.
...she was laughing. Her eyes were bright as she ran around the field of wildflowers. The sunlight turned her hair into gold.
Colors were so strangely vivid around her; bright and unreal, like pages in a children's storybook.
They hurt his eyes, made them water.
Fairytale princesses, shiny castles…
Hungry, hungry monsters...
It was not just his eyes that hurt. His throat still hurt, from all the screaming.
But he wouldn't think of the pain. It only hurt if he acknowledged that it was there.
They wore long white coats and severe expressions. He had seen the type before.
He was not allowed to speak. He had tried. They shot something up his arm.
That was when the pain, the dizzying nausea started, and the colors began to hurt his eyes. He could not stop his body from shivering. He shook even harder when his clothes were removed, barely noticing the surprisingly gentle hands that dressed him in the rough cotton of the hospital gown, and helped him to the table to lie down.
The table was cold. The straps were colder. The lights overhead shone directly in his face, blazing without apology as the gentle hands moved, efficiently taping electrodes to his body.
This was an experiment. They had said.
"No anesthesia for you, unfortunately. It seems you have been a very wicked little boy."
And then there was more pain. Sudden, harsh and blinding.
They broke something under his nose. It had a sickeningly sweet smell… rather like rotten apples.
They hadn't done that before. Funny.
Suddenly his whole body tingled, relaxing. He felt very pleasantly warm and strangely euphoric.
The pain was still there. But it did not matter anymore. Best of all, now he could see her more clearly.
She was wearing the light blue summer dress she had that day, before they captured him.
"Vale, you connected again?" she broke into a wide smile but then her face grew puzzled.
"This is the third time today." Her voice was worried. "Are you sure everything is alright? What are they doing to you? I wish you would let me see…"
"Not today." He said firmly, "Another day, I think."
"Why?" She pouted. "Not fair. I show you everything. Why can't you show me?"
"It isn't interesting. I'm in MEGTAF, Lele. I hope you can get Mom and Dad to get me out of here?"
The girl's face was resolute, though he knew there would be questions later.
The hands were on him again. It was a nurse. A woman, he realized with some surprise. That was why her hands had been so gentle.
Clearly, they were not regular staff. Had they been called in?
He wondered if she was a mother. It was hard to tell with a figure like hers. It was clear she often worked with children. But there was something about the gentle way she had touched him… A longing sadness. The way this woman touched him… with that tender, wistful melancholy that indicated she also might have lost a child of her own.
He wished he could ask. Her story would have been very interesting... and useful.
It would have distracted him from this pain a little, at the very least.
She leaned over him to adjust the electrode on his right temple. She smelled like flowers, and vanilla, and musk and female and other earthier, more interesting, elusively familiar things. The sweet scent of flowers and vanilla underlined that other primal, more organic, almost recognizable smell.
"What is that smell?"
Were nurses usually allowed to wear perfume? He wondered. Was this all perfume?
"A woman." he replied.
Her hand absently stroked his head, and then she moved over to adjust the other. Her eyes were strangely distant. Like him, she was not quite there.
He wondered who she talked to inside her head. The child she had lost perhaps?
"What does she look like? I can't see."
Her face was still young. She was slender and beautiful in a classic, chiseled sport of way. Her lips were painted a very deep red.
"Blonde, like me. But her eyes are green."
He stared at her in fascination.
Her smell was strangely exciting, strangely heady.
Oh, he knew now. He had smelled it before.
The smell of recent sex.
Her fingers lingered on his face.
"What are you trying to do, seduce the patient?" A masculine voice teased. But there was an edge to it that indicated that the man was not actually joking.
Her sexual partner, apparently. Six full feet of domineering, jealous, territory marking, laughably insecure male.
Adults were such funny creatures.
"Really sir" She replied, laughing softly. "He isn't old enough for that. It's just," Her voice grew softer, more wistful, "Sebastian might have looked like this… if he survived…"
He absolutely enjoyed being right.
"What are you smiling at, Valen?"
"Nothing really. The blonde, I suppose."
She had moved back. Her mildly intoxicating scent was no longer filling his nostrils.
Clearly she did not want to upset the man she slept with.
"Is she a nice lady?"
Was sleeping with the boss any indication? He wondered dryly.
"Hard to say" He replied. "The evidence indicates that she might be rather naughty."
"What are you babbling about now?"
Skin pale as snow. Lips red as blood...
"You don't want to know, trust me."
"You and your silly little secrets..."
He idly wondered how Sebastian had died. She probably would like to see her son again.
"What are they doing? Is she kind to you?"
How sweet she was, so thoughtfully and compassionately sticking electrodes around his head…
He smiled dryly.
"Not really, but…"
He broke off.
"But what?"
He was thinking of fairy tales again.
She would not look very different as a corpse, lying in a glass coffin, surrounded by roses, red and white.
"Vale, can you hear me?"
Lips pale as snow. Blood, red as… blood. Red as only blood could be…
Stupid drugs, whatever they were, making him think such inane things.
" She's very pretty."
"Pretty?"
"Yes." He confirmed, with a smile that meant so much more than the word could convey.
His sister scrunched up her face.
"Boys!" She tossed her red head in disgust. "Really, is that all you can think about?"
He smiled.
"She isn't prettier than you, just… developed."
"That was not the point, and eww, by the way."
He laughed.
"Amyl nitrate…" "Patient responsive…" "Apparently quite effective"… "Clear indication of successful dissociation…"
Another capsule was broken under his nose. The nurse leaned over him again with a face towel.
The towel smelled like lemons, contrasting a little unpleasantly with the perfume the nurse wore.
He wrinkled his nose
The nurse dipped the towel in warm water, and then squeezed it out. She began wiping down his neck.
Still, one of them was safe. That was enough for now.
She looked at his face. He had turned a very interesting shade of pink. His eyes were suspiciously shiny. "It'll be okay."
She stared, surprised.
"Wait, you are actually...?" she smiled, and then her smile morphed into laughter. "I can't believe it. Don't worry. I won't tell anyone how secretly sentimental you are."
"I am not."
"Yes you are. You cry very easily for a boy, and at the oddest things."
He said nothing, merely turned his face away.
She sat beside him, put her head on his shoulder.
She smelled fresh, familiar, comforting. Clean like soap and talcum powder. Her skin was smooth and warm and made him shiver.
He liked this scent better than the nurse's.
"Interesting series of reactions." One of the white coats observed, furiously scribbling something down on his clipboard. Other white coats gathered around the first, staring at their clipboards, then at the boy, making notes, debating questions about thresholds and sine wave stimuli and bilateral ETC and dose titration and the possibility of amyl nitrate compromising the results.
The nurse moved about as the doctors discussed. She removed the electrodes, then gave him a quick injection . "To help you sleep." she explained. "There won't be any more," she promised, "at least not today."
"I have to go now" he said softly. "I'll be back"
She nodded. Her hair tickled his neck. He closed his eyes.
"Okay."
"Later today, I think." He paused, opening his eyes to look at her. "You don't mind, do you?"
"Don't be silly, how could I?" She smiled, but then the smile faltered. "I have no idea what is happening to you. But…"
The nurse had removed his restraints. She was tucking him in, as carefully as though he had been her own son.
She must have loved that child. How strange...
"…You just came back, so please… be safe…"
"I will try. I promise."
Then, he was fully back inside his head. Back in the MEGTAF quarters.
The pain was excruciating, but luckily, the urge to sleep was already stealing over his senses.
It was over, for today, at least.
They now knew. They would come.
The boy closed his eyes, and gratefully fell asleep.
Getting out of their cages was laughingly easy. The only reason they hadn't escaped was that they didn't know how to get out of the building itself. Human forms, sometimes, were really handy.
A group of five boys; the two group leaders, two others from each group and a judge they had both agreed on had gathered together. They hid silently, waiting in the almost freezing darkness by the entrance to Block 5.
Before long another boy joined them. He was number 26. A lean, curly haired eleven year old with a pale, cold, narrow face and black, colder, narrower eyes. After a promise of not trying to escape shortly after he accidentally transformed to his human form when they were interrogating him, he had been assigned to work in Block 5, running errands for the men who worked there. A go between of sorts, he often used his position to smuggle other boys inside the building for events like this. It was a very risky thing to do, but the benefits were enormous. None of the seniors were permitted to touch or harass him in any way. In return, he usually could be counted on to ensure that the other boys knew what was going on in Block 5, and that small numbers of them could actually sneak inside to watch for themselves from reasonably safe hiding places.
However, there was a problem today.
"I can't get you all in." He said. His voice was soft and raspy, already beginning to break with the onset of puberty. "The most I can manage today is two."
The other boys were not happy. They let him know this in very colorful terms.
"Look, there is nothing I can do tonight, alright? The supervisors are also interested; so the room is being monitored, and both rooms with two way mirrors are already taken. It is weird for so many of them to be so interested in an initiation." He curved his lips dryly. "It seems the new boy has gotten them all excited, but I doubt it is just because of his pretty face. Even Mr. Richards himself is coming down to watch tonight."
That came as a surprise. It was very strange for the man to show an interest in this particular extracurricular activity. Richards was not a pedophile. Everyone knew that the man was a pure intellectual. To him, the children were primarily test subjects; not human, fairly important but ultimately expendable tools for his research. His sole interest in the boys was academic. However, while he never personally abused any of them, he did not interfere with the abusive activities of the other instructors. He let them do just as they pleased as long as it did not interfere with the experiment. Indeed, the results of some of their abusive activities had certainly proved invaluable to his research.
The fact that he was coming to Block 5, personally, to watch the 'initiation' of a new test subject, was completely unprecedented. There was only one reason he would do such a thing; he expected something very unusual to happen. Something of invaluable academic interest.
19 began to look as if he was almost having second thoughts about going through with the bet. He gave the younger boy a very sharp look, wondering exactly what it was that he knew.
Jaio was silent, but his smile was wide enough to show large, gleaming fangs. His eyes were positively glowing with barely suppressed excitement.
The older boy grunted and looked away. He could not afford to call off the bet now; besides, he had to admit that he was curious. What was it that this tiny, crazily dangerous boy had seen in the new boy that excited him so much? What was it about the new boy that interested their supervisors so intensely?
"Let us both in then." He said quietly. He looked at the other boys. "Go back to the cage. You will hear from us soon." The other boys nodded and left, leaving the two group leaders alone with their go-between. "You can judge for us," he asked the eleven year old. "Right?"
26 nodded."Come on then." He said. "Follow me, and do not make a sound."
They followed the eleven year old, darting through narrow corridors and up a deserted flight of stairs.
"There are only two places that I figure will be fairly safe to watch from. I dug holes in the wall of the broom closet, and then there is the ventilation shaft, but that is too small, and far too risky with all the equipment they've put in."
The broom closet was small, and quite cramped. But neither boy complained. They were far too interested in watching what was going to happen. And it better be worth it, his human forms were something they didn't like to be in.
The holes provided a very clear view of the small, bare, windowless room dominated by wall to wall mirrors, with a narrow, single bed. The room was very brightly lit by several fluorescent bulbs. A single chair and a desk with a set of drawers were the only other furniture in the room. The new boy's clothes hung neatly from a peg on the wall.
The boy himself was in bed. He lay on his side, slightly curled up and faced away from the light. As they watched, his eyes opened. He turned, lay on his back, and stared up at the ceiling. A scant few seconds later, he was on his side again, facing away from them.
"A little restless, isn't he?" observed the older boy.
"His records did say he was a very light sleeper." Commented 26 softly.
The other boys looked at him incredulously.
"You read his file?!" exclaimed 19.
26 rolled his eyes. "The supervisors mentioned it." he said slowly, as if he was talking to idiots.
Jaio frowned. He really did not like the eleven year old's attitude. Their guide was about the only boy with an unlimited license to be rude, and he used it with impunity.
"They say he sleeps much better in the dark too," continued their guide, "Which is probably why they have left such bright lights on."
"Hmm," smirked the older boy. "Sick motherfuckers, aren't they?"
Their guide nodded briefly in agreement, a cold smile twisting his lips. "Of course, there is also the fact that he is not used to sleeping alone."
"He had a family?" asked the older boy somewhat dubiously.
"Parents, a brother and a little sister. They say they were very close… abnormally so. There was even some talk about running tests to determine whether they have some sort of telepathic bond."
The older boy scoffed.
"What happened to the sister, did you hear?" He asked, speaking up for the first time.
"They did not say much about her."
"Is she still alive though?" He pressed.
"I think so."He shrugged. "I suspect they put her in another area, since the director was rather upset about not being able to have access to her for some of the tests they planned to run. Zone 47 would be my guess. The doctor there has a reputation among our supervisors for being difficult. She coddles her guards, and she won't allow experiments on them. And refuses to let anyone touch her kids for any reason. I guess that's why they were upset. They cannot study the siblings as a pair if Ms Patel refuses to cooperate. That girl is very lucky."
"True. Did they say what she looked like?" The oldest asked curiously.
"I heard someone mention that she looks a lot like her brother."
"She must be hot then." 19 commented. "I'd definitely like to meet her." He added with a sly grin.
The two younger boys gave him a strange look.
"She… is… nine… years… old." 26 pointed out, very slowly, and very reasonably.
"She… has… a… pu…ssy." The teen replied bluntly. His tone was very matter of fact. "You know," he added wistfully, "it's been a quite a while since I've actually seen one of those. I miss them."
The guide looked at him with extreme disgust.
"You are a revolting pedophile."
"So is everyone else in the fucking building. Since when do you care?"
"Girls are different, asshole."
"Really? How so?"
"They are only good for sex when they've got boobs."
The older teen snorted.
"How naïve. You poor, little baby." He scoffed. "You still have much to learn about this cold, hard, wicked world."
"Would you two please keep it down?" interrupted Jaio. "Someone's coming in."
There was immediate silence. All three boys looked through their respective holes.
The New Boy was no longer lying down. He was sitting upright on the bed. The door in front of him was creaking open.
Before long, one of the supervisors walked in. He was a tall, muscular man with a harsh, square face and dark, close cropped hair. He wore a black t-shirt and military pants. His thin lips were curved upwards in a nasty smirk. His nostrils flared as he breathed, and his small, narrow eyes were fixed on the tiny boy on the bed.
All three boys watching recognized him very well.
Collectively, they shuddered.
But, scared nearly out of their wits though they were, they kept on watching. Their eyes widened in fascination and lingering traces of well remembered horror as the huge muscular man loomed over the tiny boy on the bed.
Only one of them noticed that the new boy did not seem the slightest bit afraid.
It did not surprise him at all.
The blonde looked up, considering the huge man analytically as he stood over him.
The new boy was silent. His expression was innocently tranquil. It seemed to unsettle the older man a bit.
"Nothing to say, Kid?"
The boy just stared at him.
"You don't talk much, do you?"
The boy just looked at him. His gaze was quietly analytical as the man studied him.
"Well, well. They were right. You really were very specially bred. I admire the attention to detail."
Quite suddenly, the boy began to laugh.
His laughter was loud, derisive, and uproarious.
The man was shocked, then supremely offended. He was accustomed to provoking several different reactions from boys in this situation. Mocking and uproarious laughter was not one of them.
"What the hell is your problem, Kid?"
"Forgive me." The boy replied, making a noble effort to suppress his laughter. "But I really couldn't help it. It is so funny, watching you. I knew they would try something like this, and I knew they would send someone like you… but I honestly had not expected you to be so… pathetic."
The man was taken aback. He pulled back slightly and frowned.
"You wanna get beat up, kid?"
"Not really." The boy assured him politely. "You'd kill me. Besides, I was under the impression that you were sent here to do a lot worse than beat me up." The boy lifted genuinely curious brown eyes to the older man's face. "Why would you try to turn your precious experiment into something like this?"
"Your file was right about you. You are a pretty devious kid. And you ask too many damn questions." Richards was incredibly glad the boy wouldn't remember their first encounter for a few hours. Drugs tended to mess with the head.
"I think I have a right to know some basic things about you."
"You have no rights here. And believe me, you are getting it a lot easier than the unfortunate little bastards who came before you, so quit yapping and enjoy this while you can. The others will not be as nice as me."
The older man frowned.
"I can figure out the answers myself." The man said quickly, diverting his attention from whatever he had been planning to say. "You want me to try?"
"Don't get cocky."
"I am sorry. But I could not help it. I find you rather… interesting."
The child went still. He looked up, at the man's face. "Color me jaded, but that is to be expected. Keep talking, and I will show you how much more 'interesting' I can get."
"A reversal of roles, is it?" The man's voice was soft.
The child went very still.
He looked up at the man's face. His eyes were wide. His face had suddenly paled.
The child subtly moved away. The man looked serene, almost sleepy, but the gleam in the heavy lidded eyes was incongruously alert, annoyingly smug and very quietly dangerous.
"Don't look so shocked. I told you I would figure it out." His smile grew pitying. "So who was it then? An Uncle? A teacher? A Big Brother?" He arched an inquiring brow "Or was it… Your own father?"
As sleepy and delicate as he looked, the new boy could move extremely fast when he had to. It was a good thing. If he had been a second slower, he wouldn't have been able to attempt to hit him. The gun on the man's hand stopped him.
"Ah, so I was right." He smirked "It was your father."
He darted to the left in just enough time to avoid another bone crushing blow. He stood firmly balanced, bare feet apart on the cold floor, poised to move again if he had to.
His face was calm. His lips were curved in a cool, subtly mischievous smile. It amazed everyone watching that the man could remain so completely unperturbed after dexterously avoiding the boy's furious attacks. The child's unbuttoned pajama top hung open. His bottoms rode so low that they threatened to expose him. His blonde hair was completely tousled.
His eyes were as hard as steel.
There was no melting vulnerability on display in those eyes; they lacked even the smallest trace of fear. The boy looked disheveled, and generally disreputable. But his face was serene; his expression was utterly composed as he considered his attacker.
"Please calm down." The older said politely "Try taking deep breaths. It usually helps to cool the temper." The man's smile was almost cynical. "I apologize if I touched a nerve."
"God, this kid is fucking crazy," said the older teen in the broom closet.
"No." said Jaio, fidgeting restlessly and breathing heavily with an excitement he could barely contain. His grin was wide and his eyes were glowing. There wasn't any smell or quick heartbeat- it was all fake. This was what he had seen. This was the master of pack leaders at work, and it surpassed all his expectations. "He isn't crazy. He's Brilliant."
Both boys in the closet gave him a very strange look.
Then suddenly 19 smiled.
"You have a boner, don't you?" He smirked.
Immediately, Jaio turned bright red.
"Shut up!"
He was very glad that the closet was too dark to let the other two see his telltale blush.
The older teen snickered. 26 sighed tolerantly.
Inside the mirrored, brightly lit room, the bigger man took several deep breaths, and struggled to match his victim's calmness.
"You have a smart mouth, don't you, sheep?" The child growled. "You should be very careful what you say."
"Was I wrong then?" The man asked innocently.
"You were completely and utterly wrong."
"I was?"
"Yes!" He barked.
"Forgive me, but I do not agree." The man placed his hands thoughtfully behind his back. He considered the boy with speculative eyes. "The facts here speak for themselves." His eyes narrowed. "Why do you try so hard to prove that you are strong? Why is your need to prove it so desperate? Just who are you trying to please?" The man tilted his head inquiringly. "I wonder; it is because it all has to work according to the script you have written in your head?"
"What?"
"It is a play, isn't it? A little drama you acted with your father for years… and you were the one who always played the weak and helpless part; the one who would end up being used and thrown away. You were the one who was worthless, who was ultimately not loved."
The man smiled up at the ashen face of the child.
"My observation surprises you?" He raised an eyebrow. "Why should it? It is so obvious. There is nothing really unique about you. You are very transparent… and as I pointed out before, rather pathetic." He smiled "Even a child can see that you are terribly frightened of becoming the weak one again. You try to intimidate people because it gives you a temporary illusion of power. You obey the people you care about you because you want them to value you. You try to buy their love by giving them the sort of protection you know will need. You make them need you, because it makes you feel relevant when they do. It was the same with your father, wasn't it? You struggled to buy his love by pleasing him, because in your heart you knew that all you were to him was a tool. You were not his son. You were a cheap piece of equipment; a convenient little receptacle that he would use anytime he felt the urge, and toss aside when he was done."
"That is a lie!"
"Did it work, selling your will to your father? Did it buy you the love you so desperately wanted?" The man's smile was full of pity "Somehow, I doubt it." He smirked.
"You can claim all you want that it is just part of your experiment, that you do what you have to do for science, and for the glory of this country, but that does not change the fact that you are essentially a murderer…a disgusting killer, just like the Kaiju you hunt." The child had seemingly composed himself, eyes blazing. "So shut up!"
"Really, two way mirrors." The man smiled scornfully at the men he could not see, who watched from behind the glass. "Tacky, and crass" His gaze slid back to the child. "You did not change much, did you? You really would do anything to please those you see as father figures, wouldn't you? You know that they are watching, and you do things like this in front of them. You provide entertainment for favors and material benefit. I must confess that I do not know a whole lot about these things, but that is the definition of prostitution without sexual things being thrown in, isn't it?"
The man made no attempt to run as the boy stalked towards him. There was no need to. He could clearly see that the boy was beginning to break.
"Shut up!" His eyes were wild. His voice was shaking. "You can't talk like this! You can't know these things! Stop talking about stuff you don't fucking understand!"
The man's eyes were brown and tranquil. They stared into the eyes of the boy.
"What about your sister?" He asked, softly.
The boy froze.
"All those times you let yourself be hurt to satisfy your father's anger, where was she?" The man studied him. "Did she know?"
The child said nothing. His expression gave the man all the answers he needed.
The man smiled, clearly savoring the child's agony.
"She was there, wasn't she?" He said softly. "She knew." He smiled. "She did not like it, did she? She must have resented you. Maybe she even hated you for going away. She must have been so disgusted at the sight of you. I am sure she regretted it… being near you. She probably regretted every single day that she had ever carried a secret so dirty and shameful inside her. I am sure there were times she looked at you, and you looked deep into her eyes, and you could feel her wishing that you were dead… that you did not exist at all. You felt it when she smiled at you, didn't you? Her eyes were always cold, weren't they? And you knew. You knew it was because those eyes did not see her brother. They saw an empty, loathsome thing that they silently wished would just disappear."
"That is not true! She loves me!"
"Does she?" The man asked. "I can't pretend to know what it was like for you. I wasn't there, so perhaps I am wrong." He shrugged "But this really has nothing to do with me. It is all about you. It is your own past. Think about it; remember those things you know, those secrets you will never tell a soul, those memories of your mother that hurt you to contemplate. Everyone has them, you know. Think about the things you have told no one, and then ask yourself, does she love you? Can you truly convince yourself that she does? Could she really love a person like you? Was there anything remotely lovable about the polluted, sinful, disgusting thing that you are? Do you honestly think that people like you truly deserve to be loved… or even to live?"
The boy was quiet. His eyes were wide as they stared at the man.
"There is a reason you don't have many friends. If your own sister could not love you, what woman would? If your own father could only see you as a thing he could use, what value does your existence have? If the very girl you share your life with could hate you enough to wish you dead, what reason do you have to live?"
The man studied him under half closed lashes. His voice was a soft, almost sleepy alto.
"Do you want to know why I think that you are pathetic? It isn't because of your parents, or your childhood. It is not even because of your pitiful, ham fisted attempt to attack me. It is because you are in pain. It rots you from inside and you are sick with it, but instead of doing what you know you should do to end it, you spread your pain around, like a disease. You infect innocent children's lives, and contaminate them with your own worthlessness. And when you do this, you increase the number of people who ultimately despise you. This is why you are pathetic. You are such a coward. You lack the simple ability to face up to your responsibilities and end the diseased blight that is your existence. "
The boy at first looked dazed and confused, attempting to understand what he was looking at. Then his eyes hardened.
#Because as they made eye contact, Vale had felt the pounds beneath his skin and his bone and the memories bawling in his brain. And it had hurt. It had hurt so much. It had reminded him of everything he was trying to run away from. A place that couldn't be called home. Someone that couldn't be called a father.
Crushes and hits. Familiar rhythms. Foreign place. Stone ground. Red stained rocks. Screams. Punches. Tears. Hiding under places. Scrambling into cracks. Eyes closed. Mouth shut. Don't breathe.
I'm right here.
He wanted to shout.
Look at me.
#
Jaio saw that the child's eyes eclipsed. He was no longer eyeing the man, ready to break. More like a mountain lion methodically tracking his prey. That ring of green was bright and still, unwavering, locked and trained to Richards' face.
He saw the child's magic respond, and knew that he'd do something drastic.
Gales of wind ripped through his hair and smarted his cheeks. Intermittent flashes of light strobed over and over. Each flash left an imprint behind. Sound was still there though. A thunderous whip cracked at each flash of light, mixing with the man's screams.
The booming noise started slow in pace, but quickened, until it was the only thing he could hear. He wanted to scream too. Anything to drown out that god awful noise. Metallic ionized air filled his nose. He stared wide-eyed into the room, watching a series of image unfold like a damaged movie reel, frame by frame, flicking disjointedly.
"SHOULD I SHOW YOU WHAT HE DID TO ME?"
Flash. The man, wailing, one hand out to protect his face, one hand for the door. A humanoid, ignited thing.
Flash. A vision assaulted him. He was in a dark, damp room. It smelled strongly of copper. Directly across from him lay over a body as if tossed aside. A buzz hummed in his ears.
Flash. The room again. The man, halfway out the door. A twisted voice screamed inside his head, teasing, in a sing-song tone, "AM I SCARY NOW?"
Jaio was frozen. The floor underneath his palms shuddered as something heavy thudded, several times. The lights popped back on and the noise abruptly stopped. Jaio breathed shallowly, eyes wide, staring dazedly around at the room. He felt like he had just experienced something akin to whiplash.
The memories hadn't overwhelmed him yet, but they sure would, soon. He vaguely took notice that the man was no longer there.
The boy turned and quietly began to button up his shirt. He climbed back into his narrow bed, pulled the thin covers up to his chest and clutched them to himself in that peculiar, endearing manner common among children everywhere.
He was just a boy, when all was said and done.
"I'm tired." His voice was polite. "I want to sleep now. If you have nothing else to do here, please leave."
In a daze, Jaio realized he was speaking to them.
"Oh and if you don't mind, get one of them to turn the lights out. The experiment should be over for tonight. The very least you people can do is let me sleep."
Completely docile, 19 said 'Uh-huh'
"Thank you. Good night."
They left. A few minutes afterward, the lights in the room dimmed, then went out altogether.
There was complete silence in the walk back to their cages.
"Holy shit." 19 murmured in awe, breaking the silence. 'Holy Fucking Shit!"
"Warrior" 26 breathed. "Definitely warrior."
"I believe," said Jaio smugly, "Your boys owe mine dinners for a week…" he grinned.
"You will know they are done" 26 had said, "when the screaming stops."
Jaio watched as one by one, the doctors began to file out of the room.
"There will be a team of four," 26 had said. "Three new Doctors, one Military Physician and a Registered Nurse."
37 counted the party as they filed out of the room, recalling 26's instructions as he watched the team leave.
So far so good.
"The boy will be given drugs to ensure that his condition is stable. After some time, he will be brought back to Block 5. There will be a ten minute interval during which no one is likely to be inside the room with him. Target that time. You might be able to talk with him before he falls asleep."
26 had better have been right about that, he thought. The information had better be worth it, or there would be hell to pay.
Looking about him carefully, he began to move, silently cursing the limp that slowed him down as he walked.
Ten minutes was not a lot of time.
Finally, he made it. He took a deep breath, and then he pushed the door open.
The new boy was asleep. He was impossibly paler than he had been before, and had clearly lost an unhealthy amount of weight. Angry red patches of skin showed where the electrodes had been placed. There were dark circles under his eyes. His breathing was labored, stertorous, as if the very act of drawing air in caused him indescribable pain.
He looked like a ghost.
Carefully, 37 walked to the sleeping boy's side.
He was here now, but he had no idea what to do.
How ironic.
He hated seeing the other boy like this. At this rate, the boy was going to die.
And yet his beauty was undeniable; far more compelling.
It occurred to him that this was how the humans wanted them to be, thin to the point of anorexia, broken by pain, submissive, and helpless to fight back.
But he was not giving up hope. Not yet. The thing he had seen in this boy's eyes would not be broken so easily. Not by this.
He needed him to survive. He had his dreams, the things he wanted to become. He knew, instinctively, that this boy was the only chance he would probably have of making it out of this hellhole alive.
"Hey." He prodded the boy's bony shoulder. "Hey. Wake up."
The boy did not move.
He had been drugged. Clearly, this was going to take a while.
Sighing, he let go and looked at the round, white clock on the wall.
Seven more minutes.
He reached out to try again.
Before his fingers made contact, the sleeping boy's hand darted out.
The reflexive movement was unexpectedly precise. It was the same precision he had displayed that night, weeks ago, while repeatedly trying to attack that officer.
His grip, even in his weakened state, was surprisingly very strong. Instinctively, 37 pulled back, trying to break free, but the other boy did not loosen his hold at all.
He opened his mouth to protest, looked up, and froze.
The new boy's eyes were wide open. They were clear, unforgiving, icy, and fixed squarely on 37. The killing intent in them was unmistakable.
"Electroshock messes with the victims head." 26 had said. "So if you do manage to wake him up, be very careful. Do not expect that he will remember you."
Frantically, he tried twisting his hand free.
The other boy's grip became impossibly tighter.
No twelve year old was supposed to have this sort of grip. It was unbelievable.
Unwittingly, he remembered the whispers and rumors he had heard, as well as the supervisor's remarks about this boy being 'specially bred'.
It had sounded ridiculous at the time, but now those rumors made a frightening amount of sense.
What the hell did that mean exactly? He thought wildly in panic. They said he had been 'bred', not 'made'. So clearly, he was not some Robot or some weird sort of Super Cyborg. He was enough of a realist to know that those things were stupid and only existed in cartoons, no matter how much he might have secretly wished that they did in real life.
Wait a minute…
He could not believe this. His extreme panic had had actually made him regress to thinking in this completely childish manner.
Still, this train of thought had given him an idea.
"You aren't some sort of mutant, are you?" He asked, with a very straight face.
The new boy blinked, taken aback.
The best part of it was that he was not acting. He truly wanted to know, though he probably would have asked the question a bit more like the prodigy he was if the situation was normal.
"I mean, they did say you were 'bred'. That means that you came from two people like the rest of us. I suppose it works the same as with puppies?"
The new Boy was studying him, almost as though he could not quite believe what he was hearing.
"If you want puppies of a certain breed, cross two dogs of that breed. If you want puppies with strong bones and short fur, cross two dogs with strong bones and short fur, or maybe one with each and hope for the best. That rule would apply to humans as well, right?"
The corners of his mouth were actually beginning to twitch. He loosened his grip, much to 37's relief.
"Basic strategy." 37 explained. "Make your opponent underestimate you. Get him when his guard is down. I used it pretty well, didn't I? Unless I miss my guess, you are someone who has done this many times before."
The boy nodded.
"I am 37. You have a number yet?"
"41." He replied. His voice was low and unusually hoarse… possibly from all the screaming. "And…well, not a mutant, but half human." Jaio tried not to show his surprise, and decided there were more pressing things to worry about.
"You probably don't remember me, but…"
"I do." 41 said. "You are more interesting than I had thought."
Jaio went still.
The boy had actually remembered him, without any prompting… remembered him and apologized.
Jaio was not sure whether that actually counted as an apology. Frankly, he was too happy to care.
However, the small smile that lifted a corner of his mouth was the only outward sign he gave of this emotion.
41 smiled back. 37 looked away immediately. He really hoped his face was not turning red.
"You wanted to tell me something?" prompted 41. His voice was very gentle. But there was something about it that compelled 37 to look up, to maintain eye contact.
The brown eyes were strangely unnerving. His gaze was open, curious, even friendly, but those eyes... were... difficult to look at.
"I… well… You are new here, and things can be… rather difficult… for newcomers. So, you can come to me … if there is anything you need..." 37 was growing more embarrassed by the minute. This was not how he had wanted this to sound. He got up, completely furious with himself. "They will come for you soon," he said abruptly. "I should go now. "
"Wait."
He paused at the door, looked back.
"Thank you."
He hesitated, then made up his mind.
"I will be back tomorrow."
41 just smiled.
Jaio blushed vividly and left, abruptly shutting the door behind him.
As soon as he was safely out of sight, he set loose the huge grin that had been threatening to overwhelm him.
So this is it, my dear readers.
Should I keep the squicky bits to myself?
H. E. B.