The Lab

"…ugh" A groan echoed through a familiar darkness…The sweet nothing that preceded thought and awareness. However, this darkness would not last for long as slivers of unnatural blue light slowly struck through blurred vision, burdening the newly aroused eyes with the nature of their surroundings.

The light stretched from small stones glimmering across a dark ceiling, like fabled stars. Cascading from the unnatural darkness of the ceiling were long metal chains. Connected to these chains were hooks accompanied by long dark shapes…

'Bodies!'

The owner of the eyes hurled to the ground once his mind finally registered the putrid smell of rot and decomposition that permeated wherever he was. With an effort to move his tired limbs, he managed to wipe away the vomit from his lips only to find that his frail figure was bound with bloodied bandages and syringes.

He gritted his teeth and snatched the syringes anticipating a flash of pain only to realize that he was too drugged to feel anything. Freed from what he figured was an operating table, he battled through the vertigo to stand upright.

His eyes darted across the room in a search for familiarity only to be greeted by strange machines, long bookshelves of medicine…and jars of organs and eyes that stared back at him.

With great effort, he stopped himself from hurling again and instead focused on taking shallow breaths in a vain attempt to rid his nostrils of the nauseating smell of rot.

It was hard to think. His body was tired. His mind flustered. And his memory drew a long blank. The last thing he recalled was the constables beating him after he stole a loaf of stale bread from a bakery's garbage no less. He focused himself on the primal urge to escape...to survive. He turned his eyes upward.

Behind the bodies that hung a few feet above the ground were two large glass vats. They were filled with a bright green viscous liquid and accompanied by long pipes that stretched from the machinery where the vats were to the walls and ceiling.

He saw black figures swimming inside the liquid and quickly lost any curiosity he held towards the two vats and instead focused on turning towards the other side of the room.

And there it was, the exit. It came in the form of a pair of iron shut doors. Finding his salvation, he forced his body on its two feet and fought against the mind-numbing nausea as he stepped forward. 

Operating his limbs felt like pushing a boulder. He barely took a few steps forward before he had to grab onto the feet of one of the hanging bodies. His fingers dug deep into the soggy cold flesh, almost causing him to hurl. He quickly gathered himself and lunged to a nearby table.

The table was littered with medical instruments and an open book filled with arcane symbols. The book drew further curiosity as it had some text in high loci that he could understand. It was a log of crude experiments. Their latest Read:

Experiment 893: Failure

Rapid decomposition was observed once again when the strings were tugged in the slightest.

Experiment 894: Failure

Host incompatibility resulted in another purge. The Fangs will deliver a new shipment soon.

Experiment 895: Success

The strings managed to attach to the new vessel but due to incompatibility, the child has turned feral.

He read through a few more pages of gut-wrenching experiments and dissections but gleamed no new information. This only reinforced his desire for escape and with a renewed vigor, he dragged his body towards the door lest he become another log on the book for he feared he was part of the so-called shipment.

Across the table he passed a pair of gold eyes that stared at him intently. On normal occasions he'd avoid those particular pair of eyes as they were his own. Today was far from a normal occasion and he indulged his reflection to check his body. 

A young boy covered with bandages from top to bottom stared back at him. White and black strands of hair made their way out of the bandages. It was the same scrawny and weak boy he knew. With a sigh the boy was ready to move on only for boyish whisper to echo.

'Faster-Faster...we need to leave before they come back.'

The boy didn't look around. He recognized this voice.

'Aaaand the drugs wore off.' The boy grumbled as he tried to ignore the voice after all it was the voice of what he dubbed as fear. It was one of many that haunted him from time to time.

They always spoke in those familiar voices which he'd rather forget. Usually, he'd ignore them but now the boyish voice of fear brought a bit of familiar comfort. The boy quickly shook his head.

'Focus'

Setting himself straight took effort. The moment he indulged in the delusions of these voices, they'd become real. And if they had their way, he'd long have starved himself and died but he had to live. With a huff, he grabbed a long bloody scalpel and stumbled towards the door.

In a hollow struggle to drown the voice of fear, he focused on the irritating sound of a nearby vent that failed miserably in airing the room. Its fan kept scratching the metal surface of the vent creating a screech vexing enough to direct his focus on.

With each step his body became more wieldy...more his own. The stiffness slowly dissipated with the distance traveled and he could almost walk normally now.

Eventually, he reached the doors and with what little strength he had opened them. Greeting him was a long barely lit hallway filled with empty coffins and a dusty spiral staircase leading up to what he dared imagine would be the exit of this nightmare.

Just as he was about to move forward a weak voice called out to him. He was confident it wasn't one of his own. He'd never mistake those voices which meant that this one was real, and it echoed again from one of the corners of this horrid lab.

"Heee…eeelp meeeee!"

'Thunders!'

He didn't curse a lot. He was always chided for it, but this turn of events warranted the remark. Right at the exit something had to tug at the withered strings of his consciousness. He hesitated, something which he was also chided for.

'Leave!' Fear spoke loudly and naggingly in a repetitious cacophony but the boy knew that once he did, he'd be stuck in this memory while regret mocked him. So, he gritted his teeth and looked back for the source of the weak plea.

In a corner of the room that he'd ignored were several cages wrapped tightly in cloth. He walked forward, the hand holding the scalpel tightening at the thought of meeting another. With a weapon or without he always was jittery around other people. Even more so recently.

He smiled a bit as he tried to convince himself that two were better than one. That his odds of survival would double but he also knew that survival was a solitary endeavor. This line of thought, despite being grim, helped him reach the cages without cursing his rotten luck again.

With great force…or with what strength he could muster, he snapped the thin ropes off and removed the cloth only to be graced with…

'A dog…?'