"Let it sleep-"
"-get accustomed, can't-"
"-but if it fights?"
"-subdue it. You know how."
"Specimen. Awaken." A low, mechanical voice, accompanied by a leering face attached to a corpulent alien. "It is time for the next injection."
Jerked into wakefulness, Bakshaar growled at the thing and slunk backwards, away from where the yellow was. The fur on the back of his neck stood up as he glared at the alien in front of him. Every sense in his body was suddenly on full alert, despite his having been in the depth of an uncomfortable slumber just seconds earlier. Every muscle in his body thrummed expectantly, ready to move at a split-second's notice.
With a horrid, ear-rending screeching noise, the strange creature pressed a section on the wall, dissolving the yellow and leaving room for Bakshaar to exit.
"Specimen. Come." It buzzed. Bakshaar growled again, baring his yellowed fangs. All the instincts he possessed were screaming at him to run, to escape, to get as far away from this awful place as possible, but fear rooted him to the spot – cold, paralyzing fear that held him tightly in its grip and refused to let go.
Making strange huffing noises, the alien clinked forward on it's mechanical, spiderish legs into Bakshaar's prison, reaching out for him with big, metal claws. Bakshaar pressed himself desperately against the back wall, frantically attempting to stay out of reach, but to no avail. Unsurprisingly strong, the mechanical claws anchored themselves around his waist.
The tiger tried to slash and bite his assailant, but as he twisted madly in the mechanical arms, he realized just how very weak he was. He had spent many nights in the cell, eating only the queer smelling, chewy cubes he had been supplied with. He had not hunted. His body cried out for fresh meat, and protested at the lack thereof.
Still trying futilely to writhe free of his captor, Bakshaar was carried out of the room and up into the light.
Or at least, that was what he thought for a split second. Soon, however, he realized that he had simply been carried into another part of the aliens' den. It was a larger space, for which, in some tiny, irrelevant corner of his mind, he was thankful. The problem was that it was full of aliens and stank even worse than his prison had.
At least six creatures were there, full of their stench, and it made Bakshaar sick to breathe it in.
The one carrying Bakshaar dumped him unceremoniously on a cold, flat, hard surface.
Bakshaar shuddered. Immediately, he moved to leap from it to the floor, but he was seized by several pairs of mechanical bands and held down. He felt his limbs being encased in more cold bands, and found himself immobilized. Finally rendered completely unable to move, Bakshaar stared up at his tormentors, the last sparks of anger flaring in his eyes. A tremor ran down the length of his spine, causing those sparks to flicker out at last, replaced by utter terror.
Before, it had seemed, nothing could have affected him more than being locked away as he had been, but now he knew that to be wrong. Before, at least, there had been hope. Even though he still did not know his fate, Bakshaar was now certain that the aliens meant him harm.
Panic flooded through him, making his limbs shake uncontrollably. Roaring, he yanked at the restraints holding him down, but the metal bands were cruelly unyielding. He thrashed his head, growling furiously at his captors, but they just watched him dispassionately.
"Incapacitate it," hummed the one who had brought him, it's voice artificial. "It's stress levels will counteract the serum."
One of the others advanced on Bakshaar, holding something tiny that glinted in the artificial light. He felt a slight jab in the back of his neck. It wasn't terribly painful, but it made him start. The world began to dissolve around him, swirling into a ghastly, nightmarish quagmire of cold steel, glimmering yellow, and false light that grew quickly darker and more indistinct.
Sleepily, Bakshaar snapped at the aliens, but he could feel the will to move seeping from his body. With a final effort, he tried to lift his head, but it was spinning at an impossible speed. Almost thankfully, the tiger allowed himself to succumb to the bliss of unconsciousness.