…
Suddenly, a faint rumbling sound heard upon the silent of the night, breaking the conversation of the two who just one wall away from me. Yes. It is me – my goddamn stomach who can't read the atmosphere, and just when they are the closest. My luck…
...
The air subsequently thickened with unspoken fears, and I held my breath, praying they wouldn't discover my presence. Subsequently, I'm turning away; sliding slowly to the floor, with my back again – pressing on the cold wall. The darkness seemed to close in around me, a suffocating shroud that mirrored the dreary snake's coiling in my gut.
One second. Two second. Three second. The footsteps getting further, the pace that move alongside my rapid heartbeat gradually faded. Finally, I exhaled.
A sigh of relief escaping my lips as it seemed – once again this time – I was safe.
"But I'm still hungry though," I whispered to myself, thinking that perishing from hunger might be a better way – more comforting end rather than beheaded by a sword.
…
"Found you!!!"
"Aaahhhhhh…" I flinched – screams of fear mixed with surprise following after.
It was the man with the loudmouth – with his face on the side of the broken walls, showing up abruptly on my side with part of his feature hidden in the darkness, and the shimmer in his eyes for finding the source of the sound. I turn, trying to claw away as I my knees fail me before the run even began. For god's sake…
But his hand already found my shoulder, fingers curling on it with an iron grip, hurting the bruises that already there. I struggled against the weight of my battered body, but it was futile. In that fleeting moment, my gaze caught a glimpse of what lay in the man's other hand – a syringe, glinting ominously as it quickly pierced the tender flesh of my neck. A sharp sting erupted, reminiscent of a fire ant's bite, searing through my senses.
Within moments, the world around me began to spin, colors swirling into a dizzying blur. Faintly, I heard a man's voice inquire, "How is it, Rick?" to which the reply came shortly, "Nice and clean."
Eventually, everything in my vision began to swirl. Darkness was the next one to envelop me – fatigue gently caressing the back of my head, draining the last remnants of consciousness; by then, I had lost track of time.
When I finally awoke, I found myself sprawled on a stark white bed in a sterile room, draped in garments as pale as the walls that surrounded me. The air was thick with the weight of watchful eyes, a chorus of silent observers.
Funnily, my gaze drifted, drawn to a figure whose skin contrasted sharply with the clinical brightness – a man peering down at me, his black forehead the only part visible beneath a mask. In that surreal moment, a flicker of humor danced in my mind. It struck me as absurd, this juxtaposition of stark white and deep black; and I couldn't help but chuckle inwardly. For the gods, I didn't mean it to be offensive; for it was rare for me seeing one of those from that famous region, brought by the words of mouth from the villagers that they were born to be really strong physically, fitting to be a hired warrior – a mercenary or a soldier. It just that, white and black doesn't exactly 'a way to go' at this exact moment.
I might say my humor got the better of me for simply think it was amusing, or my mind is a jumbled mess; for it was circling and waving right now. But can I say anything to that since, oh, well – that's the approach I've taken in life so far. Regardless of the difficulties, I maintain that laughing to oneself in the inside isn't a crime, and certainly, it won't cause anyone to snap on me.
Right???
*
*
*
(Third Person Perspective) - (Note: henceforth, it shall be composed solely in the third person perspective)
In a stark and sterile underground laboratory lies concealed from the world, shrouded by jungles, nestled among hills and mountains where birds sing, signing the no tale to the masked secret.
The walls are a blinding white, almost excessively pristine, reflecting the fluorescent lights that hum above. The air carries a cold, clinical quality, permeated by the faint hum of machinery and the sporadic beeps of monitors, all witnessing the test results through the observational eyes of those who reside there.
Rows of metal tables and glass enclosure line the room, each one meticulously organized with various scientific instruments and medical equipment.
In a brightly lit room adjacent to the hallway, researchers in pristine white lab coats moved around as they're engrossed in their tasks, eyes fixed on the screens displaying complex data streams and charts.
Their faces were obscured by masks and googles, adding an impersonal, almost robotic air to their demeanor. Some were hunched over microscopes, meticulously examining samples. While the others typed furiously on the keyboards as they diligently inputting and analyzing data.
One of the middle-aged men there leaning closer to the monitor. "Look at these DNA sequences. The polymorphisms we're observing in the samples from this specimen are unlike anything we've ever documented. His genetic markers are responding to environmental stimuli in real-time. And wow... this is, a phenomenal..."
The other replied while typing rapidly. "Indeed. The mitochondrial DNA analysis shows significant variations. We need to consider the implications of these findings on his metabolic rates. His physiological responses might also skew our data like the one from A42 Site."
Another one coming closer from their back; adjusting her glasses. "Let's not forget his heartbeat too. The electrocardiogram readings indicate arrhythmias that correlate with stress responses. We should analyze whether these anomalies are a direct result of his exposure to illicit substances or environmental toxins. Just add one more test for him!!?"
The first man pointing at the screen projection in their front. "Look here! The blood pressure readings are consistently elevated two minutes after the injection. This could indicate chronic stress or exposure to harmful substances. We should consider how these factors interplay with his neurological development. We don't want another living corpse from this serum."
The room buzzed, with the soft murmur of scientific jargon. Papers and files were scattered across desks, filled with cryptic notes and diagrams. Despites the chaos, there was an unsettling efficiency to their movements, as if every action was part of a well – rehearsed routine.
The researchers communicated in hushed tones, punctuated by the occasional beep of machine or the rustle of their papers. Their focus was unwavering, driven by a cold, clinical determination to achieve their mysterious objectives.
Regardless.
Of what it cost.
*
In a stark, white-walled room, a young boy of eleven lay on a bed. His small frame ensnared by a web of steel shackles and leather ties. Bruises marred his wrists, vivid red marks that spoke of struggle and confinement. Yet, in a surreal twist, the crimson hue seemed to sink beneath his skin, as if some unseen force had drawn it away, leaving behind his original fair skin.
His long, black hair cascaded down his back, a dark waterfall against the sterile whiteness of the boy's surroundings. Clad in a simple white hospital gown, his emerald eyes stared vacantly at the ceiling, reflecting a world that felt distant and unreachable.
Beside him, a machine hummed softly, its mechanical arm inserting a needle into his arm. A strange, glittering purple liquid flowed into his veins; and within moments, his body began to tremble violently – as if caught in the throes of a tempest. Pain etched itself across his scrunched face – and dark veins, like twisted roots, spread from the injection site, creeping up his arm and coiling around one side of his neck, with some of the inky tendrils reaching toward his heart.
In that dream-like state, time lost all meaning. He felt trapped in a liminal space, where whispers echoed inside his mind – faint, indistinct murmurs that tugged at the edges of his consciousness. Blurry images flickered before his eyes, fragments of conversations and scenes from a past he could not fully grasp, memories that felt both familiar and foreign. They might be his – they might be not.
After thirty agonizing minutes, his tremors gradually slowed down until it finally ceased, leaving him still and silent, with only the occasional rise and fall of his chest; indicating the life that still persisted within him. For now, he had once again – survived this harrowing injection.
Yet, the battle within him was far from over. A sensation akin to a ball of ice now burning inside his heart, concurrently with a darting pain and the unexpected intervals in between. And this always happens, with no way to ease it except endure like he always had thus far, for – an hour, if he were lucky.
…
While in another place.
In the dimly lit, chilly corridor of the underground laboratory, a guard forcefully ushered a boy into a small, daunting room. Left with no choice, the boy began to walk, his footsteps resonating ominously off the concrete walls. The scene then shifted, revealing several other children being thrust into similar rooms with equal harshness.
Their wrists were secured by unique metal handcuffs, and collars adorned with sinister red lights that wrapped around their necks. Blindfolds obscured their vision, adding to this purposely disorientation. Within these chambers, the children faced wolves, each one twice the size of an ordinary wolf.
Their growls filled the stifling silence, accompanied by the metallic clink of the chains restraining them. With its light gray downy fur that looks dirty from an unknown reason, countless scars and mark of sutures, their looks exude a downright spine-chilling, along with a touch of baleful presence.
Suddenly, the lights on the children's collars extinguished. With a metallic clank, the collars fell to the floor. The handcuffs echoed a sound akin to grinding gears – then swift to release, freeing their arms from any movement obstruction.
Subsequently, the children removed their blindfolds as if it were a natural response to the current situation, where it seems it was a no new stuff for them to experiences. Sharp eyes that seemed out of place plastered on their youthful faces as they looked warily at the beast before them; a looming threat they need to eliminate.
Then out of nowhere, a shrill sound echoing through each room, following shortly by a mechanical voice announcing to the children that their time had finally come.
It was their test to see if they would survive this obstacle, or not. This challenge was meant to prove their worth to the organization, or they could only struggle to escape; clawing out of the misery from a gorge designated for the those of no use and of no value. However, saying that they will claw their way out in itself was actually an overstatement, as no one has ever survived it if they ever lose in this challenge.
- "The fourth additional test on June 13, 2993. Batch of 137 group A, has officially began." -
The chain fell from the beast as it resumed the growl. Its tail was held stiffly in a horizontal position, poised to lunge at its presumed prey. After all, it had been a long time since it had been fed properly. The children in front of these wolves were a perfect meal to fill their bellies.
*Grrrrr*
*Rawwwwrrrrr*
Saliva dripped between the menacing gleam of their sharpened teeth and fangs, pooling on the white vinyl sheet flooring, beneath their snarling mouths.
Their claws scraped against the floor, producing a chilling, metallic screech as they charged forward. Their greedy eyes demand attention; saliva pools over their indignation at the taste that might come from the slab of meat before them.
Eventually, the underground lab then echoed with a cacophony of primal roars and desperate cries. The children who were already altered by the experiments, fought back with a mix of supernatural abilities. Their breaths came in ragged gasps, punctuated by the occasional scream of pain or shout of defiance against their conditions.
The clash of bodies was chaotic, with the thud of heavy paws against the ground, the snap of jaws closing on an empty air, and the dull thud of impacts also reverberating as the children used their enhanced strength to fend off the attackers.
*Huff, huff, huff*
Amidst the turmoil, there was an underlying rhythm of heartbeats, fast and frantic, a testament to the life and death struggle unfolding in the depths of this lab.
...
I heard, in the world of the living, there is a thing called luck… mayhap I'm not so lucky after all, for all I bear now is the silent upon my memories, lost in the backrows of my mind.
-El's second note-