Note: Incredibly loose depiction of what would happen during a surgery

Chapter 10: Goodbye

Work was embarrassingly slow the next morning. Iris woke up nauseous and dehydrated, splayed out in her cell with the door wide open. Although honestly, when your bedroom door is nothing but iron bars, does it really matter if you left the door open?

She fumbled with a bandage, hissing as the pressure irritated the burn she'd clumsily given herself whilst attempting to fuse wire mesh over the signal hole of the Hauler helmet. She'd spent nearly an hour stumbling around the field in the early hours of the morning, trying to find the mesh that Heisenberg insisted was laying around somewhere.

She vomited twice during the search, so gross and sickly that even the resident lycans, who lay about the overgrown grass, chasing the odd bird and scrapping with each other, refused to go near her. The shame of being worse than Lycan food had her rushing to the showers, scrubbing at her skin until it was screaming, red raw, and shoved half a tube of toothpaste down her throat to forever remove the taste of wine and bourbon.

The requirement for a delicate touch and careful thought helped Iris avoid the looming threat of Heisenberg's "gift". It was a dirty move to bring it up whilst she was drunk, hell they both were, maybe somewhere in the factory her boss was also nursing a horrid hangover, and regretting every word that came out of his mouth. Iris knew she was.

How pathetic to bend so easily, to allow him to pet her, touch her like an animal for sale. For a short while, Iris had believed that Heisenberg saw her as a comrade of sorts, not quite an equal but certainly not a slave. Not like how she was in the Castle, a vessel only breathing to serve her Lady and mistresses. Stupidly she'd thought she'd escaped the thrall-like servitude of the Castle, only to become an experiment for an even cruller master.

How could he ask her to give up her humanity? To infect herself with an entity so dark and powerful Mother Miranda herself worshipped it? How could he ask her anything, knowing fully well she had no choice to decline.

With a sigh Iris set down the now finished helmet, smoothing down the cooling metal like a parent would smooth down a child's hair. Staring down at the helmet, she wondered if soon her very design would be fixed to her skull. Flesh decaying around cold metal, lurking in the depths of Heisenberg's factory, another experiment gone wrong.

The speaker system crackled to life, breaking Iris from her visions of a too-soon future.

Not now, not yet..

"Morning my fresh little daisy, hope all that crap is outta your system, I need this theatre sterile. Get down here now."

Despite the unbearable heat of the Forge, Iris felt like she'd been turned to ice. Her limbs stuck in place, her face frozen, should she cry or shout in horror, it would crack and splinter into hundreds of tiny shards.

As she waited to thaw, vision blurred with unshed tears, no longer able to look at the Hauler helmet still grasped in her hands, her soon-to-be executioner's voice attempted to soothe her.

"Come on now Iris, don't be scared. I've not done anything to hurt you yet, I've implanted hundreds of Cadou before! It'll be fine."

Iris guessed she should be thankful that Heisenberg was attempting to console her, gently pushing her to the chopping block, rather than dragging her kicking and screaming. She took note of the "yet" in his speech and wondered if the man had noticed his slip up. After all, he could have implanted thousands of Cadou before to make his Haulers, Soldats, and Sturm. But none of those people had been alive before the process.

She let go of the helmet. Roughly wiped at her face, scrubbing her eyes free of any sign of tears. She may not be proud enough to go out with a fight, but Iris certainly wouldn't face Heisenberg, and that parasite crying.

Iris's heart dropped as the elevator doors lurched open, wishing that she'd instead be basked in the warm glow that always shone from the Duke and his wares. The smell of fragrant oils, dried meats, and the smoke of his cigar. She may not know a single thing about the man, but he'd been kind to all her girls at the castle, always allowed sanctuary in his chosen room when selling wares to her Lady and mistresses. She could never pay back what she owed him for that.

Descending into the depths of the factory, Iris found herself touching the area that Heisenberg had pointed out last night, just under her breast, tucked under her rib, cushioned by her lung, would be where the parasite lived. It made her feel sick.

During the tour, Heisenberg skirted the whole "medical" wing of this particular floor of the factory, saying he didn't want her messing up his instruments, or poking through his files of which there were countless. Every single experiment was documented with a voice recorder he kept on his person at all times, Iris would often hear his voice being played back over and over in the office late at night, as the man transcribed his words.

She understood the use of it, but a lot of the time Iris thought he just liked hearing his own voice.

Heisenberg was waiting in the theatre, already donned in scrubs and a lab coat, looking ever the mad scientist. Next to him was a steel bed that was covered in paper, to soak up her blood when she ultimately became a Lycan and had to be put down. Next to it a set of shining surgical tools.

Or torture instruments, depending on how you looked at it.

Her boss looked a bit shocked that she'd arrived so quickly.. Clearly he thought she'd put up more of a fight. It embarrassed her to realise that whatever low opinion the man had of her, she'd managed to go lower by trotting into the abattoir without much fuss.

With a phantom click of the speaker system set up everywhere in the factory, Heisenberg instructed her to don a paper-thin nightie and enter the room. She stared at him pointedly until he turned around from the window, sighing dramatically.

"You do know where the incision is going, right? I'll be seeing your tits in just a moment"

"It's not the same!" She'd snapped back, voice shrill with nerves.

Stepping into the surgical room Iris hoped that her shivering was put down to the freezing temperatures and not her nerves. Following the man's silent instruction by hopping up onto the metal table and lying down.

"Don't be so sullen, you'll be thanking me for this in no time, I'm giving you some real power here, with the two of us juiced up on Mother's own secret sauce? We'll crush her."

Iris grimaced, she should've known that he'd consider this whole thing a blessing, a "gift".

"Can you go through it with me, for reassurance?" The shakiness of her voice wasn't lost on Iris, but like her physical shivering it could also be put up to the baltic temperature of the room.

"Of course dear," He was using the same placating tone as the night before, all soft and soothing, as if she was some delicate flower who needed their hand held throughout a simple procedure.

"First, I'll hook you up to this monitor here, to keep an eye on your heart and brain, just to check the Cadou isn't stressing them out too much." He said it casually, as if he wasn't now sticking little nodes to her forehead and chest, setting off a steady beeping from some machine hooked up behind her.

"Next, I'll inject some lovely stuff provided by the Duke. You'll be out like a light in seconds, and you should really thank him next time I get a delivery. Duke doesn't often struggle getting in contraband but this was pretty tricky." The Duke hadn't been around in weeks, had Heisenberg really been planning to experiment on her all this time? Even before he knew about her secrets? Her memories? Was this always her fate?

"Then a simple cut and entry here" he emphasised with a prod just under her breast, a cheeky grin on his face that Iris forced herself to not acknowledge, "Slip the Cadou in, wait for implantation, then sew you back up and wait for the magic to happen."

With a deep breath, Iris stared up at the cold metal ceiling, she thought of her grandmother, long dead now, memories of her very fuzzy but still provided a semblance of comfort. She thought of her girls, back in the Castle, hopefully still alive… mostly. She thought of the Moroaica, the Haulers, Soldats, lycans…

"Get it over with… please."

Heisenberg flashed another smile, still hovering over her fussing with the machine behind.

"That's my girl," He tapped her leg, making Iris blush, "You know it's nice having an eager participant for once" cheerfully, he pulled up the sleeve of her nightie, brandishing a cloth that smelt like alcohol, and a syringe.

"Nightie night now" The sharp needle stabbed at her skin, instantly making Iris nausea at the feeling of the metal forcing its way into her body.

That slow drawl was the last thing Iris could really remember, other than a warm hand squeezing her hand, and the sound of a recorder being turned on.

This was it.

Goodbye humanity.


It was a dark, desolate place. Thick fog hung in the air, cave walls slick with putrid water, tree-like structures cast shadows all over, like spindly hands waiting to grab at Iris should she lose her attention for a second.

The last thing she remembered was Heisenberg's voice, him touching her leg, the beeping of machines, the sharp prick of a needle.

Then she woke up here, some odd underworld, where the air was damp, water trickled from the ceiling, and a dark force pulled her to descend further and further into the darkness.

It felt like hours of walking before she saw It.

Suspended in the air by dozens, if not hundreds of gooey tendrils, was a hulking black mass, pulsating like a heart, but shaped like a foetus. A demonic spawn waiting to be born.

Mother Miranda's precious "Black God".

This was what had been pulling her, wherever she was anyways.

Maybe this was a test, please the God and you don't get turned into a Lycan?

Just below the thing, was a circle of smooth, flat stones. Perfect for sitting on. So she did.

Sat at the base of the God, Iris reflected on her time at the castle. Did all the girls who displeased Lady Dimitrescu come to face this being? Did they really all fail? How hard could it be to please a God? Surely not that hard if someone as crude and rough as Heisenberg was able to get by with nothing but the ability to wield magnetic fields.

Timidly, she looked up at the God. She swore it's pulsating quickened.

"Hello."

There was no response. Iris was glad, if the giant foetus-looking lump spoke she'd probably die from fear.

Maybe she already had.

She stayed there, sat on the stones staring up at the God, pondering stupid things, for an eternity. It became harder and harder to avert her gaze, even though she could hear the "trees" crawling behind her, now knowing they were not trees at all but extensions of the Black God itself.

Like rope tying down a dazed bear, the God's black tendrils wrapped around Iris's calves, then her knees, thighs, stomach, arms.. She became completely entombed within the God.

She hoped Heisenberg had the decency to kill her should she be a failure. But thinking of Sturm, she'd never be that lucky.

"Come on now buttercup, you should've woken up by now, open them big old doe eyes for your boss"

The voice echoed around the cave, disturbing Iris from her daze, she shifted and the tendrils let go of her with ease. Not restricting her as she'd thought, but more of an embrace.

She took it as a good sign.

"Heisenberg?" Iris called out, but the man didn't answer, he was far from this place, even the pits of the factory were above here. "I can't see a way out?"

Standing up, the tendrils all but broke away, lifting and merging with other parts of the cave instead. The God lurched to the side, as if taking in a deep sigh. Iris wasn't sure if it was out of relief, or frustration.

Beyond the Black God was more of the path she'd initially followed, now revealed as the God shifted. Another good sign, she supposed.

She started to walk, the tree-like tendrils were more sparse here, and as the ground began to incline, fresh air tickled Iris's nose.

She walked and walked until she reached the door of the surgical theatre, the windows showing Heisenberg, pacing around the bed where she lay, fussing with his recorder and jabbing at the monitor.

He didn't seem to notice her as she entered the room, circling the bed to observe herself. It was odd seeing oneself face to face, without the aid of a mirror. Iris felt like she looked wrong, but couldn't point out why.

Movement caught her attention, part of the metal bed shining with the overhead lights, unveiling her reflection as she stood over her unconscious form.

Impossibly pale skin, as if she'd painted herself white, eyes black as oil, with dark shadows underneath. Remnants of the Black God staining her skin forever.

The shock nearly knocked her off her feet, she grabbed at her unconscious hand to stabilise herself and…

"Oh Thank fuck"

She woke up.