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Crimson Claws

5.

When I woke up again - and I had no idea how long it had been since I'd dozed off from the anesthetic - it was to the sound of a toilet flush. I stayed in bed but stretched my head to see the cat-bat monster, which was probably Fred, coming out of a cubicle that was embedded in the wall but had a door with frosted glass so you could guess what was going on behind it. The thing yawned loudly, tearing open its monstrous snout with needle-sharp teeth and curling a pink cat tongue in a way that would have been hilarious if it hadn't been for those teeth and its general appearance. Then it - HE -scratched with sharp claws at a butt tucked into a blue Speedo. Then he realized that I was awake. Even with his feline features, he managed to show his smug Fred Sykes smile.

"Heiiia. Finished with your cat nap? - HA, get it huh? CAT Nap," he laughed as he built himself up in the room.

I blinked at him, stunned. How could he laugh? He was a monster! I was ... a monster. I sat up, still quite dizzy and clutching my straightened but otherwise untreated broken arm. It hurt but didn't feel quite so shattered, which was probably an upside of these bodies. My whole body felt weak and still woozy, aching and pulling at every nook and cranny, proving that whatever had been done to me was not over yet, even if I was probably "over the peak". My chest was much broader than before. God, I could feel my ... wings. They weren't big yet, but they were moving with new muscles.

"Yeah, I know," Fred said, waving it off like it was all a casual thing. "It's a fucking freak show, leaves you speechless. Modern science and fucking Frankenstein business. But hey- the doc says he'll undo it all as soon as he shows Mr. Big Shot Sponsor his successes. In case you're wondering - that's you and me! Ha. His freak experiment worked with us first - big fat bonuses for us, I tell you. And honestly - these bodies aren't that bad."

He flexed the muscles in his upper arms. More than he had before. I was disturbed by the way his wings moved, the way his tail swung - I had one of those now too. He must have noticed the look on my face. I winced as he smugly slapped his butt. "This one? Jeah, fancy. Probably one of the female scientists who picked it out. The ladies love these mutant buns, don't ya chickas!" Another slap to his backside and finger guns towards a camera in the upper corner of the room. I shook my head. I couldn't believe it. All this had to be part of a sureal dream. At the same time, I knew it wasn't. My head wasn't one that could come up with so much craziness, especially since I had spent more than half my life in an insane asylum.

My inexplicable linguistic impotence seemed to irk Fred, because he snapped his fingers impatiently even though - oh, his claws were gone. How had he- they had just been there. He grunted in obvious annoyance when I turned my attention to his face.

"You know, Klaus- dude. You can be a little more involved here I'm trying really hard and despite shock and trauma and wings and tail and alright, the mutation is still progressing for days - an okay, or uhu that I know you're cognitively present would be nice. The doctor said if we get along and I help you a bit with the new mutant business - acclimatization and stuff - we can get pay TV. You'd get something out of it too."

I looked at him, shook my head and opened my mouth. A rumble came out that probably sounded very hostile. Fred took a step back, staring at me.

" What the-?"

I opened my mouth, closed it again. Opened it again, shook my head once more but now really furiously, lay back on the cot and turned my back to him.

"Fine!" he growled after a moment of bewilderment. "Be an antisocial asshole like before. You can be a freak and and you can be a FREAK. Guess what, you are, asshole. Keep chastising me with the silent treatment even though I'm nothing but decent. Stupid wanker jerk, growling at me, I'm not playing the nanny for such an arrogant prick. You can see what you get out of it with your huffy silent treatment. Bohooo, I'm a cat for a few weeks and then I get an assload of money, I'm such a poor Klausi baby! Keep sulking dickwad- your own Speedo is in the bathroom. And I recommend a shower because you still smell like shit! And when our food arrives, I advise you to be quick or I'll call dibs. Stupid ass, the biggest prima donna, the biggest fucking priss they put in front of my snout."

I - still with traces of tranquilizer in my blood and still healing - or mutating, because according to Fred I was probably just doing that - dozed off to his sometimes quiet, sometimes louder rumbling.

.

.

The next few days were largely characterized by the discomfort from my changing body and boredom. All spiced up with biting comments from my new roommate. It was mainly nastiness huffed under his breath and snide remarks more befitting a schoolyard bully than a feline bat monster. As soon as I felt better, I'd often had comments on the tip of my tongue... until I'd remembered that I'd have had to somehow package them into gestures with my body or face... something that just wasn't worth it to me. Which led to me ignoring Fred almost as much as he ignored me - most of the time.

He got his pay TV anyway for sure because the scientists and staff were also annoyed by his nagging and whining and most of the time our room was filled with voices from the ether. These seemed to be enough for Fred most of the time because he never held back from shouting suggestions to an actor in a movie about what he should or shouldn't do or telling a quiz show contestant the exact wrong answers and having a good laugh about it. We were also given magazines ... which Fred claimed for himself in a fit of childish spitefulness or, when he had finished, "accidentally" mutilated with his claws in such a way that I could hardly do anything with them. Sykes ignored the books that were brought to us. Probably not enough pictures in them. One of the books was a newer version of The Jungle Book and I didn't know if Sevarius was teasing or rewarding me.

I resented the doctor for taking advantage of my trust, but I resented myself even more for practically jumping into his ominous needles. But if Fred was right - the doctor was the only one who could reverse the mutation - no matter what. It would only do me harm to behave aggressively towards him or any of the other staff. I was naive ... But not stupid. I would play along for a few weeks and when I had my human body and my voice again, I would get out of here despite my fears. After my experiences, it somehow scared me less to be homeless. If someone like Fred could make ends meet out there, then so could I.

The only other change from the TV program and the three meals a day were the daily check-ups. The first day I hadn't been able to get up yet, but after that I imitated Fred, who went to one end of the room when a beeping sound was heard. There the wall suddenly slid upwards and we entered another smaller room. This in turn had a glass wall from which we had a view of a larger laboratory. The examinations were mostly blood tests (every day!), muscle strength exercises or measuring our new body parts. Every day the electrical voltage in our bodies was measured with a specially adapted high-power voltmeter. Apparently, thanks to the DNA of electric eels, Fred and I could now generate electricity.

We were told several times that if we ever used our new bodies or electricity against one of the humans - for whatever reason - we would regret it. As if I would want to throw these abilities around anyway! Looking in the mirror was bad enough. The doctor mentioned that thanks to the knowledge they had gained from our mutations, the next ones - should the backer want them - would be much less bloody and deadly. Just the thought of him wanting to create more of us made me nauseous, even if it was minimally comforting that others would not end up as twisted gruesome cadavers in the incinerator in the basement. Life was a gift - no matter how limited or different life was.

It had to be the fourth or fifth day as I was now on this examination. Always with security personnel nearby who loved to fondle their weapons and dart guns while Fred and I were let "off the leash". My fever had subsided but I still felt sluggish. However, I understood ... I had studied myself several times in the mirror of the small bathroom - I looked dangerous. More so every day. I was now sitting on a chair that was too small while Sevarius felt my throat again, asking me to open my mouth so that he could shine a lamp into it. He was probably doing it more out of scientific curiosity than because it was really part of the experiment.

Fred, meanwhile, was flirting with one of the female scientists, seemingly unconcerned that she was largely ignoring him while she measured his wingspan.

"Please say some vowels," Sevarius drew my attention back to himself. I gave it a try. My A and E sounded like a dissatisfied grumble and yes, I was dissatisfied. My I was breathless. Soundless. I spat my U at him with a wet rattle and it didn't satisfy me at all to see him squinting back in disgust. My larynx simply no longer vibrated as it should.

He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the moisture from his cheek - a little miffed but basically indifferent.

"Still largely the communication pattern of a big cat. Not that the outcome of the experiment depended on it. But since our first illustrious successful test subject continues to talk - regrettably -"

"Awww, love ya too Doc," Sykes fluted from across the room, which the Doctor ignored.

"- we assume it's due to the increase in foreign DNA. After all, there was no parrot involved, so we can assume that this side effect has stabilized."

I opened my mouth but only a questioning mewing came out. I cleared my throat - which didn't sound human either - and tried again. Only the meowing became more stable. GOD- I was meowing!

I put a hand over my mouth and huffed unhappily while the guys with the dart guns cackled.

Sevarius grinned crookedly, too aloof to laugh with the mob but clearly amused too.

I lowered my head. Was that all? I lost my voice through the experiment and they laughed about it? Stabilized? I wouldn't get my voice back as a human either? They - the doctor - all accepted that. Even Henry in the asylum with his serious illness had somehow been able to speak. I could ... grumble and growl and meow ... probably hiss and stuff. I didn't even look remotely human anymore - how was I supposed to communicate? Make others understand that I was not a monster, not a stupid animal ...

As I slipped off the table after the examination, my eyes fell on Sykes. He was no longer trying to hit on the woman unsubtly but was staring at me. Not pissed off, not horrified. But ... it was hard for me to associate an emotion like pity with someone like Fred Sykes, but ... pity and remorse? No, I speculated stuff into this person that he had probably never felt. You had to be a decent guy for that - and he simply wasn't ... he had proven it himself many times and even admitted it with no small amount of pride. I had become the subject of an experiment that completely changed my body and to which I would never have given my consent. I had just been poked and laughed at. And now I didn't want Fred's eyes on 's why I turned my back on him as soon as we were in our room and I was on my cot. At least my increasingly large wings were good for wrapping me up into them. Fred ... clearly no longer wasting a word on his silent roommate, said nothing at all . And somehow ... that hurt the most.

When our food arrived a few hours later, I didn't bother to get up. I was hungry but even more depressed. I felt disgusting and tried to think about why. Fred would lay claim to the food like he had the last time I hadn't bothered to get it. Fred asked the staff every morning what was for dinner. Today it would be spaghetti with meatballs ... quite a challenge with our new hands and mouths and fangs I thought ... or as Fred had put it "You guys like to fuck with us." I heard Fred stand up, take the trays and place them on the small table bolted to the floor. I then heard him do nothing for a few seconds. I tried to curl up into a smaller ball. I imagined I could feel his gaze burning through my back like Superman's laser beams. My stomach growled ... that traitor. I liked spaghetti. Who didn't like spaghetti - especially with meatballs - they were awesome at the facility and everyone only ever got three, to be fair.

I didn't want to eat, I was sick with misery. I missed Henry, I missed the other inmates in the institution, even Doctor Schmidke. I missed Alejandra and Carla, who had already been disposed of as ashes. I wondered if their families would ever find out that they had been murdered. ... Or at least that they had been victims of a cruel experiment gone wrong?

As always, Fred adapted as well as he could and even seemed to feel comfortable with this body. By now I suspected ... He was unaware that although we were the first successful experiments, dozens of corpses had lain in the basement, rotting away in a gigantic coffin until someone pressed the cremation button. And the weeks - the months before Fred and I ... there must have been hundreds of casualties. Just because ONE rich person with an agenda and an unscrupulous scientist had wanted it that way. What did Fred think had happened to the "unsuccessful" experiments? That they had been able to go home after their fever spike? Or did he suspect that those before us had died and just didn't want to think about it? Did he think at all? It had to be a tremendous blessing not to have to think. My thoughts kept bouncing back and forth and getting worse.

I thought of the numerous cases of women who had been in the asylum who had had rape histories. Even one or two men, although I had never found out as to how a man could be raped. Most of them never talked about it and most of them could only be recognized with a trained eye. By their anxious looks, their insecure posture, their fear of being touched. It was a taboo, something to be ashamed of - something I had never understood, because these women had not wanted or been able to influence what had happened to them, so why were they ashamed? The men who had done this to them should have been ashamed and bitterly punished for it.

My father had never been punished. Our hut had been small. Very small. There was practically no privacy. As a child, I had understood that my father sometimes lay on top of my mother at night and moaned because they had wanted to make a second baby. And I would have liked a sibling, maybe dad wouldn't have been so angry so often. I didn't understand why mom had cried so often afterwards. I didn't understand why she had stood over the washing bowl outside for minutes on the nights afterwards (often even though it was cold and the water was even colder) to wash herself out down there. She always drank teas that I had never been allowed to try. She said they were her special teas for girls. Wild carrot, pole mint and many others. I had first read in books in the institution that all of these had had a more or less abortive but mostly harmful effect.

When I thought about it, I began to tremble with anger and remorse. Even though there was nothing I could have done as a child. I had discussed it all with Dr. Schmidke. Decades ago. Now I understood. Now I understood what had happened to my mother and those women (and a few men) and why they had been ashamed. Because I was ashamed. I felt used and dirty and ... violated. I hadn't been raped in the actual sexual sense ... but somehow I had. I wondered if I would feel better if I took a hot shower. So hot that my fur would fall off and rosy human skin would appear underneath? If only I could stop thinking. I sniffled ... so sniffling still worked. Even crying still worked with this new body.

I heard Fred smacking and chewing in my back. Even though I had my back to him, I knew that he would take my visible (and audible) weakness as an opportunity to say something spiteful. To say something just to say something. To hear his own voice ... even if I couldn't answer him. He cleared his throat. Oh yes, another punch to the gut was coming. Fred Sykes did not disappoint in that regard, he-

"Your food's getting cold, man," he said matter-of-factly, almost too low to hear. But I had super-cat hearing so I heard it anyway. And so without malice that I blinked away my tears in bewilderment. My stomach growled again. I took a deep breath. If Sykes gave me a reprieve with the food, I would try to take advantage of it. Even if I only got a few bites down. I sat up, wiped my face again to get the moisture out of my fur, then looked up. My plate with the large plastic glass of water was on the small table. And on the plate, next to a good portion of spaghetti with sauce ... were six meatballs. I blinked in bewilderment. I looked at Fred, who had retreated to his cot and was poking at his food, almost rushing and rather clumsily wrapping spaghetti on his fork and stuffing it down his maw. He didn't have a single meatball on his plate.

"Eat your food, Silent Bob. Your stomach growling is mega annoying," he grumbled without looking up. He didn't glance at me at all. As if he was embarrassed by this.

I stood up, a little unsteady on my paws, a little stunned by my past and present emotions and hyper aware of every twitch Fred made. For any sign that this was the prelude to a cruel joke that I just couldn't guess. It wasn't really fear I had about how he would react. What I was afraid of was ... Hope. I took my plate and went to him. Still without looking at me and just as wordlessly as I did, he slid slightly to the side. Fred made room for me. I sat down next to him on his cot. Not so close that I touched him, but close enough that I could feel his body heat. I grumbled as I popped the first tasty meatball into my mouth and chewed on it, trying not to bite my tongue with my fangs. It wasn't an "I'm happy" purr ... but maybe a, "not everything sucks unbearably" grumble.

"Don't make this gay, dude," Fred murmured, making me grin for the first time since I'd become a monster. I was a monster... but I wasn't alone. I had Fred to hang onto. He was a bit stupid and could be a bully but wasn't as mean and unbearable as he seemed. You just had to get used to how to take him. I would learn. After all, we were in this boat together.

.

.

Something clicked several times in succession. Fred- as deep and blissful as he could sleep and as loud as he could snore was on his feet as quickly as I, who had been lying awake. My nightmares (rats nibbling on my mother and telling me how good she tasted, a sea of blood and carcasses where Carla and Alejandra wanted to pull me down or me tearing flesh out of everyone I had ever known and liked) kept me awake often. My relationship with Fred was now so stable that he didn't comment on my nightly startles except for a few biting comments (which I had learned to attribute to his character and let roll off me).

But now he did comment on this.

"The light's off," he said suspiciously and yes, the light above the bathroom sink, which unlike the one in our room was always on, was dead. Only through the small plexiglass pane in our door could we see the green light of the emergency lighting. Not strong, but our new eyes made the best of what little light was left.

"Christ, what's happening?" Fred's eyes lit up in the darkness - not out of anger but because he controlled it and wanted to. I took a deep breath and let the electrical voltage bubble up inside me so that it reached my eyes and my hands. In the cold white buzzing glow of the electrical threads that made the fur on my forearms stand up, I saw that the door was open. Just a crack. Unlocked.

Fred saw it too, went to the door, stuck his head out a little warily, looked right and left - and then at me. His grin, with its drawn-back lips and far too many needle-pointed teeth, was ghastly and yet very Fred Sykes.

"Oh my fucking god. These idiots have a power outage and the door locks are all open." He stepped- still with faltering gait and ears perked alertly- into the hallway, stretching his wings. Now he was also lit up by the green light that illuminated the sign pointing to the emergency exit, which was linked to the emergency power supply.

He bounced happily on the balls of his feet like a child before his first baseball game and rubbed his hands together.

"Ohohoh, awesome, let's get out of here while these assholes are busy with the animals that must be running amok in the basement. I need some fresh air. Maybe we'll even find out how these wings work."

I stopped in the doorway and looked at him blankly.

"What?" he asked as if he didn't know I couldn't answer him. But I was good at talking to my body, and Fred had proven more than once lately that he could read the right things into my fidgeting. Not because he was clever or a highly empathetic connoisseur of human nature (the human was no longer true here anyway) but because he was probably just guessing and was often right.

I shook my head, tapped our Gen -U-Tech bracelets, made a helpless gesture that was supposed to include everything here. And Fred understood and gaped at me.

"What do you mean - you're staying here? And where would we go? Fuck, I don't know where, just that I need a break from Doctor Giggle's chamber of horrors. Come on, this is our chance! And this one?" After some pushing and shoving, and probably some scraped fur and skin, his bracelet was off. He threw it to me and I caught it.

"Are you coming now?"

I shook my head again, took a step back into the room, made a jabbing gesture to my arm and a circling motion over my face.

He shook his head in disbelief and growled.

"You're fucking unbelievable! I'm not leaving for good. I know that only the doc will undo this shit. But heaven knows, even if I'm a guest in Freakville now - I can't sit my ass off in an 86 square foot room for months! I-I-I have to get out of here- the walls are getting closer every day- you understand and I need a beer ... if I can get drunk at all. You can do what you want but I'll say ciao for a few days - or nights - I don't want the cops or animal catchers or anyone else to catch me. It's a good thing your life hasn't changed at all - you cot potato."

With that, he slammed the door in my face ... and I was alone.

A short time later, the power came back on and chaos broke out as people checked our room and found only me sitting on the bed.

.

Just before sunrise, Fred was brought back by two guards. With groans and moans, they dragged his unconscious limp body inside while a third man stood in the doorway with a tranquillizer gun, keeping an eye on me even though I didn't move from the bed. I hadn't slept anyway. But Fred wasn't asleep either. He probably hadn't even been drugged! He was plastered and slurring his words and moaning incomprehensibly after they had thrown him back on his cot. Annoyed, the people left the room and locked the door behind them.

Fred rolled to the side as best he could, blinked at me and grinned. "Hey - I managed to get drunk!" he slurred with a pride that only crashed Deadbrains could muster, and yet it was droll throughout.

I tried out the only kind of laugh I could produce and my deep, choppy gurgle, along with my raised thumb, made him laugh too.

.

I almost suspected that the people in the facility had faked the blackout to see what Fred would do out there ... or to test his alcohol tolerance in his new body. Somehow my impression was solidified when Sevarius wasn't really angry at the checkup the next day. More curious.

"And you didn't see anything unusual? No one approached you who was ... extraordinary?

"Ha!", Fred burst out laughing with his usual gratuitous bravado right before grumbling and holding a hand to his aching head, because yes- these bodies obviously had a very high alcohol tolerance but a dozen beers and three bottles of whiskey (if Fred hadn't exaggerated which was always likely) still caused a hangover. I wondered what the doctor was getting at with this repeated question. We were monsters - no normal thinking person would "approach us" - for anything. Fred said exactly that.

"Who would come near me with this body? The bars I was in were cleared out in 30 seconds like the cops had raided them. Which was cool because - well, there's no pockets sewn into these little bottoms for money so it was all on the house last night. But changing locations every 15 minutes because the fuzz came was pretty exhausting. And as buff as I am now - the fur kind of puts the chicks off - a bummer. It almost wasn't worth it. Almost." Fred grinned at me as I was on the treadmill so another employee could evaluate my endurance and speed and I chuckled my new tiger chuckle.

The doctor made a noise that acknowledged Fred's tirade, but it sounded displeased - as if Fred had disappointed him. My fellow sufferer, in his amiable but brainlessly suavem post alcohol poisoning buzz scratched his chest and made a change of subject as if he'd been thinking a lot about the following and was only now getting it over his lips.

"Sorry about the escape. But you know, Doc. TV and magazines and shit are okay. But the big guy and I are young uhm- is that still called men? You know what I mean and we really need a little more entertainment around here. No wonder we get cabin fever."

I rolled my eyes at the others' backs. What did Fred want now? I didn't have cabin fever. I wasn't in the body I belonged in - but I was where I needed to be to become human again someday. I was used to strict rules and a confined environment from the asylum and I could deal with that.

"What did you have in mind? A scratching post?" Sevarius asked rather disinterestedly, as if Fred couldn't give him anything worthy of his attention today. The other employees in the room laughed and Fred - always good-natured and capable of suffering when he saw the benefit for himself - laughed along with them.

"Ha! That was a good one! Nah, how about something - I don't know - I know some ladies who will overlook pretty much any craziness for the right pocket money - even fur and wings."

"You want me to organize conjugal visits for you?" the doctor asked scandalized. Although the most scandalous thing for him was probably that he had to deal with Fred's unsatisfied libido. And what could I say (nothing at all) - I was outraged too and almost lost my footing on the rather fast treadmill. I didn't want anyone to see me - especially not women. I didn't want to scare anyone, just the idea of shrill screams and panicked eyes if they saw me was horrible.

Scratching a little embarrassed behind one ear, Fred laughed softly. "Or ... Maybe visits aren't necessary at all. It's a top-secret project here - I get it. But you must have hidden the female participants of the project somewhere in the building, right? And don't worry - I won't jump on the ladies straight away, I'm not an animal. Just talk and see ... if we get along. A bit of mutant bonding and all that."

The Doctor looked at him as if Fred had grown a second head as a result of the mutation.

"I mean," the mindless fool babbled on, more because Sevarius staring took away his confidence and someone like Fred just kept going on and on instead of sticking his foot in his mouth and letting it go at some point.

"I mean you want to create a super race? Is it really a RACE race if there are only guys? Can you really say then that the experiment worked across the board if you take half the population out of the equation? Hahaha."

Fred laughed insecurely and tilted his head. I had turned off the treadmill and the female scientist with me didn't mind at all provided her attention, like that of everyone else in the room, was on Fred and the doctor. Although the women in the room definitely looked more cautious and less intrigued. The doctor himself ... eyed Fred in a way that was terrifying. He was thinking about it! God no! Did Fred have any idea what he'd done? There was no way he was smart and sober enough to have thought something like this through, but a person like Fred Sykes didn't manipulate someone like Sevarius. They were worlds apart in more ways than one. But ... he had put an idea into the doctor's head. By chance ... he had pressed exactly the right buttons. And Anton Sevarius, on the other hand, was not someone who - once an idea, an inspiration, had taken hold of him - simply let it rest.

Fred had probably just ruined the life of one or more poor girls. And perhaps the worst thing was that he hadn't even done it out of malice or on purpose. But simply because he said what he thought. He didn't reflect and was ignorant. It wasn't always - probably not even often - that smart people with an agenda and intent ruined other lives ... but people like Fred Sykes.

Three days until I go to New York for Comic Con!

I have my Fire tablet with me so theoretically I could post chapters ... but will I have the energy for it after a day in New York? Or will I write a lot of stuff while I'm there (full of inspiration!) and post it afterwards? My nerves are stretched to breaking point.

And how do I get the video of my costume on utube to show you!

I don't even know if I can wear it to the con because I need a second person to don it... I could ... just shout out the window there in NYC and give 10 dollars to whoever helps ... that's totally common and safe in NYC- right?

Thanks for reading Q.T.