chapter 3.

SOL

My conscious came around as my back and legs were exposed to the gelid, silver table of the operation room. I willed myself to clear the haze the harsh doses of chloroform had created in my mind and observe my surroundings, which weren’t really different from previous inspections.

There were a number of “doctors”--who had no right to call themselves such title unless they were doctors for the devil--and “nurses” about the room, some checking my steel restraints, in which I was in no condition to break from, others checking their electric boxes that they stored data on, and a few around him, preparing themselves for the operation.

As my senses started to return to me, I felt dread (really a friend now, considering how much I see it) and adrenaline being pumped into my system with acceleration. Regaining senses in my fingers, wrists, arms, neck, legs, knees, ankles, and feet, I hopelessly tried to struggle against the unbreakable bonds at my joints and around my neck and waist.

My movement alerted the doctors of my consciousness and they began to scramble even more, like cockroaches in the light. It was then I became aware of wires attached to me, the other ends attached to odd screens. A steadily increasing beeping also filled the room, besides the indistinct murmuring of the doctors and nurses--labcoats, I like to call them.

I continued to thrash and jerk around, trying to find an escape. I knew what was coming.

But sadly, my strength had not fully recuperated from my comatose state, so as of now, the bonds were unbreakable.

Tendrils of fear began to creep its way to my heart as I got a strong scent of the sterile devices they use to cut me open. A flash of faux silver caught my eye, which only encouraged me to try and break free harder.

Fear and panic now having found a definite pathway to my heart, I felt the urge to succumb to the segue to my next form. My blood was pumping, pounding in my ears, I felt no desire to stay bonded to this deathly table. The only method of escape was...

I heard, saw, felt the labcoats’ panic as they tried to create some distance between themselves and me. The ones nearest me, holding their torturous devices that enabled them to enter my body privy to the outside world and let their sick, twisted minds unleash and invite Hell along the way,  tried to contain me. But they could only try so hard.

The steel bonds were now no boundary I could not break through. I easily lifted my arms out of them, then crushed the ones around my legs before fully freeing myself of the wintry bonds. I was free.

My eyes glowed, myself having evolved into my next form. I felt the ancient powers of the Sun and Earth enter my body before I let out a furious roar and set my goals of attack to the labcoats. Blood was shed.

- - -

Dragon

Any chance I got, I mustered the deadliest glare I could and shot it at the “doctors” in the glass boxes. But those chances were very little.

I soon learned that I wasn’t the only special, deformed creation of life to walk the earth. No, there were more.

Much. More.

My first encounter with a walking mutation was with a mindless, rotting body that had no conscious whatsoever. It was horridly disgusting, to put it mildly. I was certain I smelt like rotting flesh for a week.

And those didn’t stop there.

Almost every day, an assistant would drag me out of my residential cell and shove me into an urban pit. It was similar to the one I was put in my first day but much smaller. And I had some wing space back then too. Now, all I get is enough room to run around without getting my organs mauled out and eaten by the walking dead. I hated it with every fiber of my being; and the labcoats knew it. I had come to the conclusion of their intent to push me to my very limit after my second day, after I nearly tore out one of the pits.

I heard footsteps echoing in the chillingly empty halls that led to my sector of the headquarters. Today, it was just me. Sol was removed from his cell to whoever knows where. I felt for him, but right now, I was preparing myself for another blood bath and a gory aftermath.

Seconds began to tick away. Seconds morphed into minutes, and the minutes began to elongate their gait and slowly dragged their feet down the road of time.

Then, when I felt myself nodding off to sleep, I heard the telltale sound of shoes echoing down the hall. But these didn’t sound like the regular footsteps of the goons that usually dragged me into the cramped arena to fight a rotting zombie. This felt different.

And the labcoat who possessed the different shoes was also different. He was a labcoat for one point, not an empty-headed goon.

He stopped in front of my door, hands behind his back and feet shoulder width apart. Through his glasses, he stared at me, his slanted eyes swimming with a hate with an unknown origin. I simply returned his challenge.

The last thing I saw was him turning. Afterwards, it was black.