Dr. Huxley held his breath, his fragile and wizened heart thumping restlessly in his chest. Ahead of him lay a tall and narrow metal door at the end of a claustrophobic corridor. There was only space for two people to fit together side by side at the same time. The entirety of the area was bathed with a ghostly dark blue light, artificial and alien. Numerous pipes framed the walls like dark grey vines, rusty and peeling. The walls were covered in buttons and switches, and the little exposed paint there was was peeling off.
Behind him lay an industrial spiral staircase made out of old and worn metal. A small and bright beacon of light streamed down the stairs like a little spotlight. It was so high up – Huxley surmised this secret underground passageway was many times taller than it was wide.
Leviathan stood by his side. Her bright orange wings were folded, but they still managed to brush up against his side. He shivered uncomfortably as he felt the leathery skin against his dirtied and mangled lab coat. Huxley was by no means a short man, but Leviathan was a good deal taller than him. The height difference was further accentuated by her high heels and her towering burgundy horns that shot towards the sky like reverse lightning bolts.
His eyes were drawn to the coiled whip she held in her hands. He'd experienced first-hand the torturous shock that it could inflict on a victim's body. He wasn't comfortable twenty meters away from that thing, never mind one. She noticed immediately and turned her luminous orange eyes towards him. They glowed in the dark like headlights, and Huxley felt like a trapped deer awaiting impending doom.
"She's waiting for you," Leviathan said smoothly. She broke out into a smirk Huxley couldn't see. Cruel amusement played on her smile, which turned into a toothy grin. "I can't wait to see the look on her face."
Leviathan pulled ahead of Huxley, shoving him aside as she hastily and eagerly punched in a code in a keypad hidden behind a tangle of pipes. Huxley heard a small beep! And the door opened smoothly to reveal a bright light that punctured Huxley's irises. He raised his hands instinctively - it was so bright compared to the blue darkness of the corridor which his eyes had just begun to adjust to.
Inside was a large and flat room. The room was filled to the brim with comforting decorations that gave the place and overall mature but relaxed feel. There was a black leather couch around a glass coffee table that had pairs mugs and drinks on top of wooden coasters with fancy draconic designs etched into them. A dimly lit glass chandelier hung above it. On the wall was a gigantic television monitor set into a mantle of cobblestone rock which encased a fake fireplace. Black velvet curtains on opposing sides of the room hid windows with artificial light emanating from them. The dark red carpet was striped and smooth, covering a black marble floor. Decorative driftwood and logs acted as mantlepieces and centerpieces for the dining table, which was made out of dark oak and had only two sharply cut chairs by it.
Not only that, but the room also housed a large bed with a dark oak elevated frame. Its mattress was plush and soft, and a thick fur blanket lay on top. It was impeccably made, with pictures of various serene landscapes hanging on the wall next to it.
The most notable part about the room, however, was not its surprisingly comfy design. It was the gigantic contraption in the center of it, with pipes and tubes that stretched all the way from the floor to the ceiling. It was a chair anchored to the ground by various wires. It had been decorated lavishly with ornaments. It was pure black velvet with birch wood armrests and side pockets that were filled with drinks and chocolate wrappers. On top of a plush faux fur pillow was the most alien creature Huxley had ever seen… and the mastermind behind RimOps, the driving force for the extermination of humans in Leagionis. Wyvern.
Wyvern's appearance could have given any human a run for their money. She looked like something out of a horror movie. At least, to Huxley that is. She had been born with only one eye, and flaps of her scaly dragon skin had grown around the empty socket until it was only a fleshy cavity. Her skull was lopsided and her mouth deformed. Her lower jaw was visibly crooked. One arm hung limply at her side, without bones. It was useless and tiny, missing a finger and a joint to pilot it.
The other arm was bony and thin. Wvyern's claws were enormous in comparison to her fragile arm. As for the rest of her body… there barely was anything. Instead of having two legs, she had a jagged tail that bent stiffly in random directions. It didn't swish smoothly from side to side like a snake's would, but instead made jittery motions unpredictably.
The wires that were attached to the ceiling crawled down, descending upon her head. She wore a strange-looking helmet that caressed her cranium, wires pulsing into her scalp. Some of the translucent wires carried flowing blue essence through their tubes. Huxley could only assume it was draining her magic.
In Huxley's eyes, Wyvern was the epitome of a true monster. An abomination created by humans playing God. It inspired disgust for both monsterkind and humanity in one second.
Wyvern laughed at him, a tired, slightly insane laugh that spoke of years of torment. It echoed slightly around the bright and modern room.
"I truly don't know if I should laugh," Wyvern said earnestly. "Huxley, Huxley. Congratulations on being the last human alive. You and I both know you've earned it. We may not be allies, but we've known each other enough that... I could even consider you a friend, in some aspects."
"Did you laugh?" Huxley growled, anger surging through his veins as Leviathan forced him down on his hands and knees. She held the whip above him menacingly as he shrunk towards the floor, lower even that Wyvern, who was seated on the chair.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Did you laugh when you killed my brother?"
"You do know that I can never leave this room, right?" Wyvern stated matter-of-factly. "I may have been the one who ordered it, but I never held the blade that pierced his heart."
"And that's all the more disgusting," Huxley spat. "You never saw the look on his face. You never heard his dying words. And you won't take responsibility."
"What does it matter?" Wyvern said. "He was a human. And you are too. You know what your species has done. You've toyed with nature, tried to manipulate the very nature of the universe in your arrogance, you've caused immeasurable suffering… rendered half the planet uninhabitable… you're a disease. You need to be eradicated before you destroy the world. You must understand, of all people how dangerous your power is to everyone. And you know full well that whatever face your brother made when he died… was the exact same face made by the countless monster lives he's taken."
"Don't act like you're innocent. None of you are," Huxley breathed, crying out as Leviathan brought the whip down hard on his exposed back.
"Levi, let him speak," Wyvern asked gently. Levi gave her a slight smile and released her grip on her whip.
"You're right. Nobody here is truly innocent. But the difference between you and us is that we lack greed. We aren't driven by money or power or knowledge. We know our bounds. No more nuclear weapons, no more guns. No more wars. All those were entirely human concepts. With the last human gone, we can finally have peace. Isn't that what you want? Peace?"
"Killing me won't solve anything," Huxley reasoned desperately. "You think you can just get rid of your problems by wiping them out. But humanity isn't the problem, blame is. You just watch. Just watch as your idealistic peaceful nation suddenly erupts into wars and riots after we're gone. As long as there is a supposed problem, there will be a scapegoat. This time, it's humanity. But in a few decades, it'll be lykans, or voxens. It's an endless cycle of discrimination and bloodshed. You think the war is over. But no, it's only just begun, and you're the one who started it."
Wyvern paused, taking a deep breath to compose herself.
"If there's one thing I hate most about humanity," Wyvern said, her voice cold, but shaking with emotion. "It's the fact that you use pretty and rhythmic words and act like just because they sound nice, they're true. You think there's a cycle? How poetic. But poetry is a human invention. The world never has and never will be poetic nor pretty. There are no cycles, there is only change."
"Did you bring me here to lecture me, monster?" Huxley hissed. Leviathan did not speak, but planted a high heel on Huxley's back, and grinded. He felt his skin twist and turn, the torsion sending rippling waves of pain through his body. He grunted.
"No, actually," Wyvern said, leaning on her armrest. She took a sip from a coffee mug that Charybdis had bought her for her birthday. It had a picture of a tree on it.
"Levi and I brought you here because we need information. Recently, Charybdis and her team of scouts discovered a group of eight human youths who all had magical powers of varying degrees. They were able to fend off a rescue team trained for combat, as well as some of the more powerful bounty hunters under our employment."
"They called themselves 'Last Stand'. Now, supposedly being the last human alive, this should come as quite a shock to you, should it not? Unless, of course, you knew about this from the beginning. Working against you over the years has led to familiarity in more than one aspect - 'Last Stand' certainly sounds like one of those pretty, noble names you'd love to slap on one of your secret projects, doesn't it?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Huxley said, hoping his face didn't betray his dread. It hadn't even been a week, and they were already found out. How was this possible? He could only pray that they evade capture… but as even he, after choosing the best hiding spot in the entire country, had been eventually captured, he doubted that the hapless eight humans he'd fostered had much of a chance.
It had been his last gamble, and apparently, he'd failed. PSEF and RimTech was already on their tails.
Wyvern sighed.
"Ah… I didn't want to have to do this," she said. "I hope I have enough magic for it."
With the helmet still on, draining her magic, Wyvern closed her eyes and held her arm out. In an instant Huxley felt a presence wash over him, before suddenly everything swirled before his eyes. Leviathan caught him before he hit the ground, but his sense of perception was so crooked he couldn't tell if he'd hit the floor or not. His thoughts muddied before washing away like water off roof tiles during a thunderstorm.
"You will tell me what you know," Wyvern's voice echoed inside of Huxley's mind. Mind control magic was one of the rarest and most potent forms of magic. The practice of such was outlawed because of its terrible potential. However, mind control magic didn't come without its share of setbacks. It took a huge toll on the user physically and emotionally, to project their own consciousness onto the soul of another person. Wyvern only used it when it was utterly necessary, otherwise she would've gone insane a long time ago. And it wasn't like she had many people to mind control, anyway. But here was an exception.
"Last Stand…" Huxley echoed, his voice monotone and his eyes blank. He rose as Leviathan removed her foot from the small of his back. That's right, he would tell her everything.