Chapter Text
’The ground’s freaking cold…’ is your first thought as you come to. You try and feel around a bit. It seems that what you lie on is mildly soft, smooth, and dusty. Yep, you are back on the damn examination table again. Hurray.
Blinking your eyes open, you search around the quiet but familiar room. No windows, no vents, only one steel double door. Big and ominous double door. You dubbed them The Door of Doom because anytime they opened, a scalpel-wielding psycho was coming in to cut you up or inject you with another of their chemical soups.
You snicker bitterly, moving your head to the side. Its weight is tremendous, a sharp throb piercing it.
What the–
Your vision blurs. Twisty images, dots, and colorful splotches dance in your vision. Blinking the haze before your eyes away, you moan in pain. What in the hell did they inject you with this time anyway? It feels worse than usual. Maybe they decided to increase the dosage of the paralytic drug?
You glare at the shelves with the strange substances and equipment. Beakers, flasks, tubes, grotesque machinery of unknown origins and purpose, and odd-looking instruments akin to those used for surgeries – forceps, saws, scissors, and drills. Ah yes, drills. You are very well acquainted with those hellish things. Just the sound of them is going to haunt you forever.
Now that you think about it, it is seriously like being thrown into a hybrid of a laboratory of Dr. Jekyll, Mr. Hyde, and Frankenstein, but with a modern twist to it. Everything looks like out of a sci-fi comic or a novel. And despite how fascinating that may sound, you hate this place. This awful, terrifying place where your innermost nightly terrors come true each and every day. The ugly feeling in your chest is indescribable. You just and simply hate it. The way those pristine white walls induce that unnerving feeling of isolation in you whenever you are here, the way that they let the monster dust calmly float here in the cold light for you and other guinea pigs to see before every procedure, the way that they hurt and play with your poor body and mind. You loathe it all.
Shakily breathing in, you close your eyes. Just how many monsters will it take for them to stop? To achieve their goal? To satisfy their twisted and greedy minds?!
Or how many humans?
You halt in your thought process and try to flex your bony fingers. Humans. Human. Yeah, you definitely are nowhere near being that anymore. With no flesh to cut, no blood to bleed, no organs to stab, and no actual eyes to gouge, you are not something a person could call a human.
Your eyelights travel up your bare body, gazing at it with a slight distaste. The time did make you used to it, somehow, but it still feels so wrong to see your own bones outside of your fleshy shell. The crazy woman doing the deed back then compared your body to that of a chrysalis, holding hostage the beautiful bony butterfly that your skeleton supposedly is. A disgusting comparison if someone were to ask you.
And so, if you are not a human, what are you? Well, not exactly a monster either. Monsters don’t have such souls as you do. You bet your bony ass that be it a human or a monster, they would scream at the sight of your soul. It is reversed the same as a monster’s soul but has a dim yellow glow with deep blue stitches all over it, constantly leaking. Apparently, when they cut it up and then were to sew it closed, they lacked enough justice thread, so integrity had to do. So, thanks to that, now your soul looked like a real Frankenstein’s mini glowing monster, a horrid patchwork of sorts that never got the chance to heal properly.
To be honest with yourself, you may have an idea of what you are. Or at least that’s what the whispering voices called you many times behind the closed door.
An Assimilate.
A deformed being that is created by merging human’s and monster’s souls, or to be specific, injecting a human’s soul by a liquified monster. Yes, a whole damn monster. Their body, soul, and all of that. A sickening image. But oh-so-very real. After all, you are the living proof.
You still remember the way the tiny crying cat monster begged. How it pleaded for mercy and how it slowly turned into a sad little puddle, its pained screams stopping. Then it was taken away in a bulky glass container by those madmen in white coats, leaving you strapped to the bed, wailing, sobbing, confused, and drowning in fear. You knew by then that what you were about to experience next would be an unspeakable agony.
To this day, you still don’t know how they were able to achieve that without dusting the monster. You don’t know how they were able to pull out your soul without a monster’s help or your consent. Hell, you don’t even know how are you still alive! You should’ve been twice dead over by now with how extreme those experiments were! You should really be just a corpse. Butchered. Lifeless. Buried six feet under and pushing up daisies. Anything but breathing! And yet here you are – alive and kicking. Though, also very drugged and feeling shitty all over. Not exactly a win-win situation.
And so, you are back to the questions you had a moment ago.
How many lives will it take for them to cease this carnage? And will you ever escape from this hell?
You haven’t abandoned hope just yet. At least, not entirely. You’ve secretly hoped for rescue or an opening for an escape since day one. If it were not for that nasty paralytic drug or the heavy guarding at the cells, you would be long gone out of this hellhole.
You sigh, feeling the pricking tension in your chest return. The amount of anxiety that this room always makes you feel is revolting. Wait. Huh? Return? You try to wiggle around and quietly cheer when succeeding in lifting your left arm. The control of your body is coming back to you!
You roll your tongue in your mouth impatiently, not really questioning how it got there when you're a skeleton, in the end sticking it out in concentration. Fighting your body, you gradually sit up, grateful for the laxness of those bastards that they didn’t strap you down this time.
Setting your bare boney feet on the cold floor, you stand up, knees wobbling. Okay, you are still kind of dizzy, but in a good enough condition to walk. Nothing too amazing, but it’ll have to do if you want to take this opportunity to escape.
You gaze toward the door longingly. Heh, there’s no way it’s open, but you may as well try. Staggering up to it, you gently turn the doorknob, hearing a dull happy click.
“Oh shit, I guess today’s my lucky day,” you chuckle, opening the door and peeking out slightly. No one on the right, no one on the left. The hall's empty and it seems like there are no watchful eyes around. Yeah, it seems like it, but you are not that naïve. There are most likely tons of cameras set around the building, guarding it restlessly.
Retracing your head from the hallway and carefully closing the door, you return to the middle of the room, sitting down on the examination table to think.
There is no way for you to avoid all the cameras successfully when you don’t know their positions or the layout of the building. You would probably set off the alarm in a few minutes while trying to sneak around and get caught before even finding the exit. Just simply running out is out of the question.
Feeling the dread and anxiety creeping back into your mind, you survey your surroundings again, desperately trying to find anything that might give you an idea for your escape. Desk, more machinery, documents, laboratory apparatus… Eventually, your eyes stop on the glass cabinet with chemicals. What if you just…?
You stand up promptly, walk up to the cabinet, and squint your eye sockets to read the squiggly written labels. Morphine, Buprenorphine, Tylenol? You frown at how terribly it’s organized. If this was your laboratory you would never let that happen. There are mostly all kinds of analgesics and raw materials like acetone or benzene. Searching for a bit more, you finally find what you were looking for.
“!!!”
Smiling, you reach out into the cabinet and take out a small flask labeled Diprivan. Now that’s more like it. If you’re able to find a syringe, hide and ambush the one that’s coming to experiment on you, you could actually have a chance to escape! From what you know, aside from the white laboratory coat, everyone in here also wears a nice set of rubber gloves and a gas mask. It’d be a perfect disguise to use and slip out of here! The only problem is that propofol takes about two minutes to kick in. You will have to make sure that the person won’t scream or run before the anesthetic knocks them out.
Shuffling toward the other cabinets and tables, you grunt nervously. It won’t be easy, but if you want to be free, you must try. It’s time to get to work.
“Attention to all employees! Experiment #PNM325 has escaped and is currently on the run! You are to lock all the exits and evacuate to the basement sector. Wait before the security unit recaptures the subject and you are given orders to come out of your hiding. I repeat, lock every exit and evacuate to the basement sector! There is a dangerous specimen on the loose!”
“So, that didn’t go as planned,” you huff as you round the corner, both the announcement and the alarm blaring in the background. You take off the annoying gas mask, toss it to the side, and head downstairs in hopes of an exit.
Almost flying down the stairway, you curse as the big heavy rubber boots threaten to fall off. The guy that came in earlier was quite flabby and tall, so his clothes on you are baggy and pretty much just flailing all around annoyingly as you run. You were lucky you decided to go with a higher dose, otherwise, that large guy would surely overpower you in those few minutes before the drug took effect. You can pat yourself on the back for managing to stick the syringe into him so speedily and incapacitate him in a sloppy but tight chokehold.
Still, you are so stupid. How could you forget that propofol only lasts for five to ten minutes? You were either too drugged or too eager to think things through properly at the time. Too blinded by the sliver of delicious hope. Of course a few minutes wouldn’t be enough to find an exit from this maze! Hah, and you call yourself a detective! What a disgrace.
As you beat yourself over your stupid mistake, you continue wildly running.
Where is the exit? Where?! You have to be close. You have to!
Deciding to take a right turn, you whine in distress as you come face to face with the end of the hallway and only one lone door. It’s fully open and therefore highly suspicious. There’s no way you’re walking into such an obvious trap.
“!!!”
Hearing the racket of multiple footsteps in a hallway near behind you, you change your mind and rush into the room, coming to an abrupt stop.
“Shit.”
Not only is the room not connected to any other rooms, meaning you are cornered, but it also doesn’t have any hiding spots, only one wide window, a long glass table, and a few chairs. It looks like you stumbled upon some kind of a conference room.
Darting to the window, you look outside.
It seems like you’re still on the third floor. How fucking unlucky.
A loud thud resounds behind you, making you flinch. You turn around swiftly with a disgusted grimace.
“Well, well, well. What do we have here? I found our scrawny escapee, Chief!” the short buck-toothed man in black uniform howls, cackling as he steps aside for the big boss to come in. You remember this little shit very well. He is one of the rats who always bullied you and the other guinea pigs in the basement cell sector eight for their entertainment. Though, he was the tamest one out of all those brutes that were there. He was mostly just really petty, doing annoying things like eating your little share of the food that they gave you, spitting in your water, taunting you with keys, hitting your face, calling you names… let’s say he wasn’t really creative with his tormenting. He, compared to the other guard bastards, was like a little snotty kindergarten bully.
“Good job sniffing out the freak, Diego. Let me handle the rest,” the chief of security smirks, taking out his electricity-imbued net. You don’t have good memories with that thing. It’s basically a torture device, really. It’s because of this that you have those nasty-looking black burns on your bones, mostly on the upper half.
“You, you sick fucks…” you seethe, making up your mind and imperceptibly grasping onto the chair in front of you. You can’t give up just yet. You will have to take your chances.
“Tsk, tsk, freak. No need for talking. Cattle don’t talk,” he rumbles, stepping closer and readying himself like a predator preparing to pounce on its prey, “Now, come here!”
Jumping out of his way you don’t hesitate for even a second and run chair-first towards the window, smashing it and falling right through the shattered glass. The fall is fast and dizzying. A sickening crack from your left arm can be heard on the impact. You roll out of the roof of the car you fell on, dropping to the hard asphalt ground with a loud groan.
Fuck. You swear you’re never doing this crazy shit again.
Seeing a white nothingness in front of your eyes, you try to stand up. Getting to your feet, an awful burning sensation spreads from your injured arm to your whole body. Your left arm… It’s most probably broken. But hell is that a small price for freedom.
With your soul shaking inside of you, you start to run sluggishly towards the last obstacle in your way.
The high wire fencing.
It seems impossible at first, so high and intimidating, but once you start to climb, your body becomes very agile, as if it did this many times before. The activity feels familiar.
The excruciating pain in your arm is prevailing, but you determinedly keep on climbing, the sharp wires cutting into your bones.
At the top of the fencing, you swing your legs over, hop down and dive into the shadows of the back alleys.
You race through the murky pathways, getting farther and farther from the frightening noise of the alarm. Here you go to the left, then you take a right. Not knowing where you’re going doesn’t stop you or decrease your pace. All you want is to get away as quickly and as far as possible from that horrible place.
Almost tripping over a crumpled can of soda, you come to a sudden stop, gasping for air and tumbling down towards the ground to sit and take a break for a bit.
Crawling to the nearest dumpster to hide behind, you finally take your first deep breath, straightening against the bricked wall.
“I’m free…” you whisper to yourself in joyful disbelief.
You can’t believe it. You actually did it! You escaped!
“Yes!”
You bring your hands up in a cheering gesture, immediately regretting it and hissing in pain.
“Tch, this will take a while to heal,” you grumble, carefully feeling the crack in your radius.
Shuffling around a bit, you take a crumpled pile of documents out of the lab coat. Looking at it, you decide that you did a smart thing. This will be of help to you while figuring out the identity and objective of this organization and maybe it will even prove useful in other ways!
You internally thank that nutjob who decided to leave those documents on the table in the lab you were confined in. If it were not for them, it would never occur to you to take something like a proof of this organization’s existence with you.
Anyhow, your eyes are too tired to read right now and the lighting in this alley isn’t adequate either. You shove the pile back into your pocket and stand up. You have to move. They’re surely looking for you, so staying in one place is dangerous.
Dusting yourself off, you direct your gaze onto the exit of the alley. You have to go into the open if you want to find out where exactly you are. Risky move, but a necessary one. Hopefully, you are still in your hometown or at least a city that’s close to it.
Putting your other worries away, you step into the light of the main street.
.
.
.
Meanwhile, unbeknownst to you, a glowing set of lights crinkle at the last sight of you.
They watched you this whole time.
How you jumped from the third floor, climbed over the fence, and ran for your life.
Yes, they saw it all, both your appearance and your actions, by following you silently through the shadows.
Humming in wonder, the lights finally disappear into the deep void of the night.