Hermes was halfway back to his cell when two guards stepped in front of him, blocking his path.
"You're coming with us," one barked.
Without giving him time to respond, they grabbed his arms and led him down a series of sterile hallways. The sharp scent of antiseptic filled his nose as they pushed open a door, revealing a bright white room.
Inside, Edward and Alan were already there, sitting in metal chairs under the harsh fluorescent lights. Edward glanced up, his wings shifting restlessly, while Alan tapped his claws nervously on the table in front of him.
"You too?" Edward muttered, though his tone lacked its usual bite.
Hermes was shoved into the room and forced into a chair. The guards left, the door clicking shut behind them.
"What's this about?" Hermes asked, glancing between the two.
Alan shrugged, looking uneasy. "No clue. They just dragged us here without saying anything."
Edward leaned forward, his eagle eyes scanning the room. "Whatever it is, it can't be good."
Before anyone could say more, the door opened again, and a scientist stepped in, clipboard in hand. "Congratulations," he said, his tone dripping with insincerity. "You three are showing the most promising results with the Salamander serum. That makes you... special."
Hermes's ears flattened. "Special for what?"
The scientist smirked. "You'll find out soon enough."
The scientist let out a low chuckle, setting a folder on the table before heading back toward the door. "Enjoy the rest of your day," he said, the mockery in his voice clear. Without another word, he left, the sound of the door locking echoing through the room.
Hermes, Edward, and Alan exchanged wary glances before Edward reached for the folder. "Guess we're supposed to look at this," he muttered, flipping it open.
Inside was a neatly organized set of documents. Each page had their names, photos, and detailed information about their transformations and abilities. Hermes scanned the pages, his ears twitching with irritation as he read:
Hermes Caine
Role: Combat Unit
- Enhanced regeneration from Salamander serum.
- Spectral claws identified as "Gift."
- Evaluated for superior physical aptitude.
- Assigned for high-risk direct engagement.
Edward Marlowe
Role: Tracking Unit
- Enhanced vision and spatial awareness from Eagle traits.
- "Gift" identified: 360-degree vision with slowed perception for precise action.
- Assigned to scouting and target tracking.
Alan Fischer
Role: Infiltration Unit
- Enhanced sensory abilities from Mole traits.
- Salamander serum providing durability in high-risk conditions.
- Assigned for stealth and covert operations.
- Can dig into the ground and navigate even with poor eyesight.
Hermes's eyes narrowed as he flipped to the last page, which bore the title "Chimera Project". The text below it was vague but ominous:
Objective: Integration of compatible traits. Units to be monitored for adaptability and used as foundation for next-gen prototypes.
"What the hell is this?" Hermes muttered, slamming the file shut.
Edward leaned back, his jaw tight. "Looks like we're not just experiments. We're steps on a ladder to something worse."
Alan's claws dug into the edge of the table. "And if we don't play along? What happens then?"
No one had an answer.
…
A week crawled by in excruciating monotony. The three of them were confined to the stark white room, with no windows and no sense of time except for the arrival of meals. Trays of food and bottles of water slid through a small hatch in the door three times a day, always silent, always impersonal.
Hermes sat against the wall, idly flexing his fingers as his spectral claws flickered faintly before disappearing again. "I'm starting to think they've forgotten about us," he muttered, his voice heavy with boredom.
Edward leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. "Not likely. They're probably just watching, waiting to see how we handle being boxed in."
Alan paced restlessly, his claws clicking softly on the tiled floor. "They're testing something. They have to be. Why else lock us up like this?"
The room felt smaller with each passing day, the walls pressing in despite their unchanged size. Edward's wings shifted uncomfortably every time he stretched, and Alan had taken to tapping his claws against the wall just to break the oppressive silence.
Hermes finally spoke up. "Whatever they're planning, it's going to happen soon. They wouldn't bother keeping us alive otherwise."
The others didn't respond. They just waited, tension building with every passing hour.
…
By the eighth day, the silence in the room was almost unbearable. Hermes sat on the floor, his back against the cold wall, flicking his spectral claws in and out just to occupy his mind. Edward was slumped in a chair, his sharp eyes scanning every corner of the sterile white room. Alan paced tirelessly, his claws clicking against the tiles, muttering curses under his breath. None of them had spoken much, the tension between them growing heavier with each passing day.
Then, for the first time in a week, the silence was broken by the sound of keys jingling. The three immediately perked up, their senses heightened from the lack of stimulation. The heavy metal door groaned open, and two guards stepped inside, each holding a stack of items.
"Delivery," one of them barked, tossing the objects onto the table in the center of the room.
The three stared at the pile: a collection of books, a few decks of cards, a small chessboard, and other games designed to kill time. The second guard smirked as he dropped a bag of assorted snacks on top of it.
"Don't say we never did anything for you," he sneered before turning and leaving. The door slammed shut, the echo ringing in their ears.
For a moment, no one moved. Then Alan, unable to resist, darted forward and snatched up one of the books. "Are they seriously giving us... entertainment?" he asked, flipping through the pages of what appeared to be an old mystery novel.
Edward joined him, sifting through the pile of items with a skeptical frown. "It's not exactly a PlayStation, but I guess they're trying to keep us sane. Or distracted."
Hermes stood and walked over, picking up a chess piece and examining it in the dim light. "Distracted from what?" he asked quietly. "They've been watching us this whole time. This isn't kindness—it's calculated."
Alan plopped into a chair, already engrossed in his book. "I don't care if it's calculated. I'll take anything over staring at the damn walls all day."
Edward nodded in agreement, grabbing a deck of cards and shuffling them with practiced ease. "Might as well make use of it. Who's up for a game?"
The three of them settled around the table, hesitant at first but gradually easing into the distraction. Edward taught them a simple card game, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the room was filled with something other than silence. Alan cursed loudly when he lost, and Hermes cracked a rare smile when he managed to win a round.
As the hours passed, they cycled through the games and books, each finding their own way to make the time pass. Alan devoured the novels, flipping through the pages with an intensity that made Hermes wonder if he was trying to memorize them. Edward, on the other hand, gravitated toward chess, often playing against himself when the others lost interest. Hermes alternated between joining their activities and observing from the sidelines, his mind always wandering back to the Chimera Project folder and the unsettling implications it held.
During one of their card games, Hermes finally voiced what had been bothering him. "Why do you think they're doing this now? Giving us stuff to keep us entertained?"
Alan shrugged, laying down a card. "Maybe they realized we were getting too restless. Don't want us going feral in here."
Edward frowned, his wings shifting slightly as he stared at his hand of cards. "Or they're softening us up for something worse. Keep us happy, make us feel like they're not the enemy, and then hit us when we're least expecting it."
Hermes tapped his claws on the table, the faint flicker of his spectral claw appearing briefly before disappearing again. "It's a test. Just like everything else they've done. They're watching how we react, how we use this."
Alan groaned. "You're overthinking it. Maybe they're just trying to keep us sane so we don't drop dead before they can use us for whatever nightmare they've got planned."
Edward didn't respond, but his sharp eyes flicked toward the small camera embedded in the corner of the ceiling. Hermes followed his gaze, his stomach twisting at the thought of unseen eyes analyzing their every move.
Despite the unease, they continued to play and read, trying to make the most of their situation. Hermes found himself surprisingly good at chess, his sharp instincts and quick thinking giving him an edge over Edward, who grumbled every time he lost. Alan proved to be a terrible card player but an excellent storyteller, often narrating bits of the novels he read in dramatic voices that made Edward roll his eyes and Hermes chuckle quietly.
But no matter how much they tried to distract themselves, the underlying tension never truly left the room. Every time a guard delivered their food or water, the three of them would fall silent, watching the door warily until it was locked again. The games and books were a temporary reprieve, but they couldn't erase the knowledge of why they were really there—or what was coming next.
By the end of the week, the pile of games and books was well-worn, but the unease in the room had only grown. Hermes sat on the floor, staring at the chessboard with unfocused eyes, while Edward methodically shuffled cards at the table. Alan was sprawled out on the cot, flipping through a book for the second time.
"Do you think we'll ever get out of here?" Alan asked suddenly, breaking the silence.
Edward paused, his wings shifting uneasily. "Out of this room? Sure. Out of this compound? Don't count on it."
Hermes didn't respond. His gaze was fixed on the camera in the corner, his mind racing with thoughts he couldn't put into words. Whatever the guards and scientists had planned, he knew one thing for certain: the games and books were just the calm before the storm.