The teen looked past the small bars on his window. The sound of rain slithered through the gaps, giving the otherwise silent lab, an ambient sound of rainfall. It was a deluge out there, the soft cascade of a primal force somehow felt soothing to him; it was a welcome distraction from that fact that his back was currently being surgically opened.
There are better methods, the application of anesthesia and perhaps other medical drugs to help him deal with the pain. But his makers already knew how astounding his ability to heal was. So why waste time or anesthesia on a wound that would heal up before dawn of the next day? The answer to that was that there was no need. It has been roughly five years since the last time his doctors used Anesthesia in an procedure.
He was fifteen. This had been his life for as long as he could remember. He was born here, and it was not up until a week ago that things changed for him, if not, he would have died here too. And it wasn't never something he has been particularly worried about, death was an integral part of life. And while his knowledge might be limited, death has never been something he was afraid of. Considering his current situation, perhaps death would have been a preferable outcome.
"You have to hurry up, his body is already undergoing healing. I don't want to make my hands even more bloodier than necessary."
The doctors responsible for harvesting tissue samples from within his body made idle talks over his head. He did not listen though, not today. Usually, it used to be that the gossip of the workers here were how he was able to piece out and paint a picture of the world he lives in.
But today, his mind was just on the rain. He hoped it did not stop; it would give him the cover he needed to make his escape from this place. But for now, he would wait, the doctors needed to finish taking whatever it was they wanted to take from him. And once they were done…it would be his turn to take.
"Have you hear the latest news? There is a new type of grimoire available for purchase. Since the discovery or rather rediscovery of the Death affinity, a couple of new spells have come about, the new Grimoire is another big corporation's attempt to corner the market on new spells, they have that Subscription and Membership package." The boy inclined his head to the side, the change in topic was rather interesting, after all this was also the first time he has heard of the death affinity outside of the fact that it was one of his affinities.
"Any spell you use with their grimoires, they would have access to. You do not get to keep your own spells a secret anymore, not if you want a Grimoire made to hold the spell cards. And now they are doubling down on unlicensed Grimgineers and Enchanters."
"So, we now must spend more money on grimoires, just as we must spend money on spells? One of the doctors asked incredulously, his voice taking on an annoyed edge. "Not everyone is lucky enough to even be born with the ability to walk the paths and unlock their affinities. Or even worse, develop the comprehension needed to study spell matrixes and Cards."
The annoyed doctor made a rough cut, causing the boy to wince in slightly in discomfort. But if the doctor noticed, he did not acknowledge or even acted like anything happened. He carried on talking with his colleague, their hands still moving as they dug into the back of a fully conscious individual.
"But in the end, we will have no privacy and any random person with a good enough tech affinity spell card, or a tech grimoire; would be able to hack into these corps databases and get our spells. And What do they say about security? is there any guarantee that our registered spells are not going to be exposed? Enemies could think up a counter for us, before we step foot in an arena."
"I do not see why you are so bothered; it is not as if you have the Death affinity. It is rare, something that only a few Demons and beasts can use. And very few humans awaken. And right at the top of that list of users, is this perfect creation right here!" the doctor said, slapping the boy over the head and jostling his body.
The surgical tool in the hand of his partner was wrenched painfully to the side causing an extra injury as the boy was jolted. Blood spurted out to stain the surgical coat and face of the doctor with the tool.
"Would you watch it! Do you want the Angels to fucking kill you! Demadiel is not the kind of existence you want to fuck with! Source! You are so dumb!"
The boy shifted, as he drew his knees closer to himself and leaned his head on them. The pain was there, he could feel it. It has always been a constant companion in his life, from the very moment he was born.
And it was the same for hate, anger, joy, sadness, despair. He felt them all and yet did not feel them. It was like they were muted. He could see all the colors in the picture, but not the sound. He always found it weird, he did not think it was normal, he has heard the doctors talking about it a couple of times but still… he wondered. It was like there was a veil on his emotions, he wondered what might happen if he could ever take it off.
To push it aside so that, for just a few moments, he'd feel pain… like it is supposed to be felt. He dozed off, letting the rain's fury lull him into a half-asleep state, where he imagined each raindrop was not rain but fire. Falling in a myriad of colors that reflected off his face. So much color to fire, to destruction and it was loud too, just like the rain.
*BOOM! *
The entire building shook. The boy's eyes snapped open as he looked out the window bars. Guess it was not a waking dream when he said fire was raining from the sky. He wondered what spell that was, it covered such a wide area. The probability that it is from a high-level fire grimoire was extremely high and knowing Thomas… that was his signal. But at the same time the range was immense, something that a domain path mage could easily be able to pull over. But Thomas was not a domain or body path mage. The boy gave the windows another look with a frown on his face.
He did not like this, nothing of what was happening was a part of the agreement between them. Thomas was supposed to be subtle, just set a chicken on fire and chuck it through the facility's front door. Artificial Intelligence would have flagged that down as a fire hazard and let the fire alarm go off.
The first thing they would want to do is secure him, so Anesthesia and back into his cell/bedroom. But this was a full-blown attack, which meant in but a few moments the door into the room would be kicked down by some source altered human mages with powerful grimoires in hand. They would be ready to lead him out through a secret entrance and away from the facility forever. Well away from this facility and on to the next facility.
He liked this one though, he was in the basement level, and it was a moderately sized ultra-modern facility. It had four floors, a beautiful garden, fountains, and people in suits, hospital gowns, doctor scrubs and heavily armed guards, to complete the façade of a health facility catering to the rich and powerful.
Still the boy did not know much, just what he had been able to gleam off a surface study of his environment and the people he encountered. With a sigh he jumped off the gurney. He turned, not particularly surprised to see that the two doctors were still ignoring his existence, only worried about the fact that someone had used a spell to turn rainwater into firewater, or just fire.
He looked at the table of surgical tools and picked a scalpel. It was no grimoire, and it was terribly unbalanced. But it was still a sharp edge, he liked sharp edges, they did wonders in splitting things open. The boy moved quickly, the scalpel flashed through the air, the target moved. But he was precise, he was always precise.
Jugular or Carotid… are those not the same thing. No, they are not, but either one would do, he needed them both quiet anyway. The target moving was no problem, the boy changed his motion mid swing into a stabbing one, sliding into the jugular vein and out, leaving the kind of precise cut only a doctor's instrument can deliver.
With the surgeon already on his way to death and his friend still hopelessly wrapped in shock. The boy stepped close to the final doctor, the one that had hit him on the head. He looked up at him, the boy's chestnut brown hair that was frosted white at the tips and fell all over his face in waves. His black eyes so dark they swallowed all the light that went through them.
"A-az-Azrael Wait!"
The boy, Azrael, did not wait. He was on the clock as it was, and he should already be out. He moved, grabbed the doctor's head, and bent him down, holding him to the side as the scalpel went swish. Azrael had to marvel at how easily the small blade parted flesh. He saw blood spurt out, he frowned, he did not want any of their blood on him… it was debasing.
He let the body down to the floor as gently as possible, making sure the blood was flowing in a direction opposite from him. There was a huge mirror that he quickly used to look at his open back. It was a bit chilly in here, so his skin looked red. But then again, his insides were being shown live and in color for anyone to walk in and see.
He was healing as fast as he could, but it will take until dawn before he is fully healed. He could not wait 8 hours for that, it was time to get the hell out of here. Did that sound right? He hoped it did, everything he was right now he had pieced together from, speech, manners, interactions, and relationships that the many trainers, torturers, doctors, teachers, caretakers and guards he had had over the years had shown him.
He built a picture of the outside world, of what life really was like from their discussions and interactions. Learning had been linear, absolute and matter of fact like. But the world out there was more, it was people. And people were dangerous, but if he wanted to be away from this place, he needed people to be able to hide. So, he had to understand people, he had to become people.
An ability that he had been trained in but took to a whole other level. The ability to profile and read a human being from just glance alone. No need to use a Grimoire or domain spell to read minds. But Azrael took that knowledge even farther, learning to not just read, but to become, anyone, and anything he had ever seen or heard.
The doors slid open, and soldiers poured in. An unconscious Azrael was on the floor, as the doctor who had been doing the surgery got up and pointed at him, while blood spilled from between his fingertips as he held it close to his neck.
"He did this! The blast did something to him! You must get him to Regen chamber immediately and get someone with a healing Grimoire over there. You need to help speed up his healing so that his mind can rest, he was agitated by the blast!"
The doctor spoke and shook, the guards ignored him and picked the boy up. Without sparing the doctor a second look, they left the room, leaving the doctor to die as he pointed at them in shock.
He made to go after them, crashing to the ground with a groan as he moved out the door, trying to call for help but still bleeding out. He heard their receding footsteps as he crashed to the ground, slowly feeling as his life ebbed away. A few minutes later, there was a whooshing sound as the building shook, a jet had just left the premises. And that was the sign he had been waiting for.
The doctor got up and moved his neck from left to right. Suddenly his countenance changed as he became a bit shorter and smaller. The lab coat came falling to the ground, exposing a slowly healing but bloodied back with tissue exposed to the world.
Azrael threw the glasses he had on down and stepped on it. With those overpowered bastards out of the building, carrying a decoy Azrael, which was in fact a very dead doctor number one. He reckons they would notice in about ten minutes before coming back to beat him half to death.
Not that it has happened before, but some of those guards had trained him. He had to respect their strength and the things they could do. Way more powerful than any human being with or without a Grimoire. But they were not here anymore, that meant those left behind barely passed the standard. They will not be a problem to get through, and if he gets his hands on a Grimoire, then it is all the better.
"Time to blow this joint!"