• " This is insanity. "
    " What? Thinking for myself? " Pause. Tap, tap, tap.
    " No, thinking that this .... whatever it is you've created.... " A hand flew up in gesture. "... can. It wasn't made for this kind of intelligence, you know better than to screw with it. "
    " He can, I'm telling you. And I'm not screwing with it, I'm modifying what is already there. " The first of the two professors held up two fingers, snapping them together in a scissorlike motion. " Difference. "
    " Difference how? " his partner replied. The first professor sighed irritably.
    " Modification sounds more scientific, alright? Now help me with this lid, thing weighs a damn ton. "
    Sighs. The two labcoat-clad men scaled a low set of metal grid stairs, rising onto a platform of the same material which surrounded an octangonal tank, wires and tubing protruding from its sides, metal reinforcements plastering the corners, rows of steel bolts holding the glass and metal in one. Together they managed to drag the heavy lid off of the top, leaving only the thin steel mesh shield beneath it. Inside the glass, acrid green liquid sat and occasionally bubbled, only a fragment of motion rising to the surface. The first professor -- older and grasping a clipboard, short black hair streaked with gray on the right side alone, a large 'X' scar slashed beneath his left eye -- mounted another set of stairs that led to the top of the tank. Setting the clipboard down, he placed his hands on the edge of the tank and leaned over slightly, peering down into the murky depths of the water.
    " Flip the switch, Hearson, " he murmered to his younger, leaner counterpart. The man sighed, walking over to a row of controls and easing one lever down. A hissing noise echoed into the wide room, bouncing off of the walls as vents spewed steam and fogged up the air surrounding the tank. The older man straightened.
    The pressure released, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small remote, pressing a lit button near the end. Both of the main doors slid shut with a low, muffled thud. The younger man took several steps back. " Hearson, have the gun ready, just in case. I don't expect any trouble from him today, but I'm nt taking any chances, " came the command. Hearson grabbed a very potent-looking weapon from behind the desk, looking like a cross between a sawed-off shotgun and a sniper rifle. The loading chamber was clear, and from his place beside the tank, the older professor could easily see the flagged red cartridges, ready to fire. They wouldn't kill, only wound, but they sure hurt like hell. Worse than tazer clips. He'd felt both.
    The water trembled. Hearson twitched noticeably.
    A buzzer went off, loud and annoying. Inside the tank, they could hear a faint, unsteady tapping, like long-nailed fingers trying to find their way through the darkness of the water. There was a low scraping thud, and the water swished suddenly, as if someone had kicked beneath the surface.
    " Come on, Zenith.... It's just myself and Doctor Hearson... " he said casually, loud enough to be heard beneath the water. He turned and walked back down the steps, rolling the moveable extra platform out of the way. He flipped down a heavy switch on the wall, turning several levers opposite of where they were and leaving others. A single strobe light lit up the back of the tank, faint but still bright enough to see, for the most part. The green liquid of the tank moved around even more, and the older of the two professors pushed aside several large crates and containers, clearing the floor of the raised area.
    " Back up, Hearson, and keep that thing down. You know he can't stand the sight of it. "
    " I don't blame him... " Hearson muttered. Like the rest of them, he'd been shot with it at least once... although considering his usual mannerisms towards the superiors, it wasn't entirely surprising if he'd been plugged more than that. He had an unfortunate tendency to mouth off at the wrong people at the worst times. It didn't flatter him in reaction one bit.
    The water swished, and a dark figure shot past the view, barely a glimpse. Seconds later a single, bony hand flew out of the water and grasped the side of the tank; its pair followed suit. In a split seconds, the figure flew up out of the water, almost stumbling to the platform, a wet indistinguishable mass. Hearson swallowed, but the older professor stood calmly as the figure coughed several times, staggeringly pulling itself upright and standing, water dripping through the mesh of the platform to the cement floor below. The low rasping cough of a person clearing their throat issued into the room.
    " Evening, Proffesor Kigura, " it rasped slowly, carefully, trying not to stumble over the short sentence, a whisper of a hiss at the end of the words. " Professor Hearson. "
    " Evening, Zenith, " Kigura replied. " Doing well? "
    " As well as possible, " the strange creature smirked. It had a vaguely human body, but the differences were far too obvious to assume humanity -- eyes, palid skin, clawed hands,the strange lumps on its back.... all signs of beastiality.
    " Come to break the rules more, old man? " he snarled. Kigura rarely came in here after hours.... it was strange and out of conduct.
    " Depends on who's rules you're looking at, my boy, " Kigura replied smoothly. He stepped forward, setting the clipboard on the desk and gesturing down the stairs. " I'm not really paying attention to any of earthly concern at this point in time. Think Biblical, and you're about in my neighborhood. "
    " Then I think as of now I'm a few cities over, " the creature said nervously, blinking and backing up. Kigura held up his hands in surrender.
    " Relax, Zenith.... I'm not here to hurt you. That's the last thing on my mind. I came here.... to help you. "
    " Help me? Help me how? I'm stuck in this place and there's no way out.... I thank you for your concern, Professor, but you're useless in this situation. Sorry, " he shrugged sadly, gesturing to the tank. " You know I can't go more than a few days without the injections and the support system. If I left here, I would die within a week. "
    " You positive about that? Because I'm fairly sure -- " Kigura raised his hand, clicking the remote. Suddenly a large door the size of a garage slid up with a low screech, revealing a black semi truck and reenforced trailer parked off to the side and aimed at enother, larger door. " -- that I've covered everything. Inside that truck is a temporary tank, as well as forty-six vials of the injection -- enough to last you quite a while. Zenith, this is the only chance you'll ever get to escape this place.... "
    Zenith stared at the old man. What he was thinking, he could not tell, but it was obvious the boy was taking this with more than a generous pinch of salt. His apprehension was understandable.... he had been lied to, cheated, and tormented most of his life. Kigura was suprised he hadn't torn the both of them apart the second the lid opened. He blinked, swallowing, his face steeling.
    " Where? "
    " With us, of course, my family and I. The organization doesn't know about you, only the seventeen of us who are actually assigned to the project, and I wasn't even here today. Neither was Hearson. We're currently two hours away in a science conference. And each of us have at least seven very well convinced witnesses to tesify for us. The door is wide open -- " Kigura gestured to the truck. " Are you going to wait until it closes again to try and force it, or would you rather not kill yourself when there's an easier way? "
    The answer was unspoken, but screamed in the affirmative.



    It took them moments to ready the vehicle, less time to drive slowly and quietly out of the compound, with it's barbed wire fences and security cameras that had been conveniently turned off during the power shortage two days earlier and had not been restarted. Zenith lay inside of the smaller tank, staring at the darkness of the back of the truck and fervently wishing that no one would hear them, that this was for real... not like the first time they had tried to escape. That had turned out..... Zenith shuddered.
    Deadly. That was the word he was thinking of.... Deadly.
    The drive was long and silent, each moment slightly less full of the terror that they might be found as cities passed, then finally a state border. Zenith curled up beneath the surface of the water, a heavy mask covering his outh and nose, the strange lumps against his back shifting uncomfortably in the water. It was so cold.... it was always cold, always dark. He hated it. Despite his bitter outward appearance, he would have rather just curled up and hidden than argued. The injections had done that, screwed him up like this... every day, thin metal tubes stabbing him in the wrists or the back or the neck... always accompanied by someone saying ' oh, this will only hurt for a minute' or ' it's really for your own good.' what did they know? Kigura knew. Hearson almost did. They understood, relatively so. And now they were out, escaped from that prison....
    He would never be the same, he knew that well enough. They had tortured him there, done horrible, unspeakable things to him... He shuddered, cringing and looking down at the needle scars and slashes across his arms. The pain was unbearable....
    " No, " he rasped to himself. " No. Stay alive, stay awake... stay calm.... we're almost out of here... almost... " His voice faded into a mumble as he murmered to himself. He crossed his arms over his chest, the lumps down his back lifting mutedly and covering his head in a wet, feathered embrace. The wings were sore from being so craped, but it would only be a little while longer until he was free... until he was no longer a part of the Project.





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