The video showed a lone silhouette stumbling through an iron door, struggling

to maintain its balance. Upon reaching a short corridor, the figure clutched its side tightly, fluid endlessly seeping around and between its fingers. It crossed a dimly glowing light fixture dangling from the ceiling, leaning on the solid concrete wall for support. The minimal illumination in the hallway revealed battered masculine features sporadically slashed and gouged, and the figure constantly shook as though suffering from intense exhaustion and pain. The man was slouched against the wall as though he was carrying the world on his shoulders. Looking back, he saw threads and beads of lost blood tracing his path.

Upon arriving at a decrepit iron door simply labeled ‘413’, he took a quivering

breath, then knocked with as much strength as he could muster in his current condition. He withdrew his hand, new fountains of blood spurting from the scrapes on his knuckles as he muttered an unheard phrase, and the door creaked open. Beyond was a small room, approximately twenty square feet and observed by a new camera. On his right, he a second door with a pine desk and two mahogany stools, slightly off-center in the far right corner of the room. Immediately to his left, he saw a stainless steel rack, on which laid a medical kit; He fumbled for the chance at physical relief the moment he saw it.

After that, the relaid footage glitched, static ringing in the monitor bay.

“Damn it all to hell!” bellowed the man watching the tape, his voice crackling

similarly to the footage. He pounded a fist on the monitor, using the momentum to practically launch himself out of his desk chair. His face was forced into a scornful frown as he power-walked through the hallway that led him to the room. Upon seeing the damage firsthand, the observer almost lost his disappointment and frustration.

Almost.

“I guess you’ve returned. Didn’t think you’d make it, honestly. Pretty brutal footage from that

GoPro.” croaked the viewer.

He fancied himself a well-groomed man; tall, wide-shouldered and well-built yet lean,

and sporting a decent tan. His groggy undertone told the wounded man that the viewer had either just awoke or, far more likely, just finished with yet another hours-long footage review, the southern accent heavily layered onto every word he uttered. His black hair was combed back and gelled, slick and smooth, glistening with sweat yet still remained in place professionally. His eyes were sea green and his outfit consisted of a pure polyester, forest-green pinstripe suit, an intricately laced and dandelion yellow tie accenting both the suit and his navy blue undershirt. His pitch black loafers echoed on the concrete floor, sending an unexpected chill down the wounded man’s spine as the shoes clacked in a perfectly chilling rhythm, fast and aggressive.

“I… have my ways…” the wounded man mustered through gritted teeth and

heaving breaths, fending off the twisting in his gut.

“Yeah, I know ya do, Ajuka.” He walked calmly to the door that Ajuka came in

from, gently closing it, teeth gritted. “Now tell me… is this boy worth my trouble?”

Ajuka looked at him in astonishment and disbelief. “He did... this,” he

exclaimed, gesturing to his dangerously large cuts, vibrant bruises and countless scrapes, “To one of your best agents!” He flinched at his sudden vocal exertion and exaggerated gestures, sparking a new session of pain. The viewer’s eyes widened slightly before he sighed, taking in the completely destroyed outfit. “So you didn’t just do that to yourself? ...We’ll have to get you a new set of clothing. Did you get the ‘data’?”

Ajuka reached to his right pants pocket, pulling out a small device without hesitation. It

appeared to be a miniature touch-screen tablet, only about two or three inches wide, colored black and speckled with blood droplets; the screen, however, was lit up with a soft lime glow, the center of it showing a clear map of the cities surrounding the pair with a single red arrow brightly illuminated in the center of the screen, pointing north. The sides of the tablet had several constant flows of data revealing everything from heartbeat to precise coordinates of whoever it was that had become connected to it.

“Got that goddamn tech thing on him, at least.” Ajuka breathed. His wound was finally

being knit closed by the first-aid kit’s ‘Hyper-Advanced Healing Apparatus’. Hastily grabbing the tracking system tablet, the viewer had begun muttering to himself; more theorizing and questioning took place in his mouth than in his mind. He pulled out a notebook from his inner suit pocket, then snatched a pen from his front coat pocket. He scribbled madly, noting every injury he saw inflicted on Ajuka; he documented every visible bruise, scrape and gash. He additionally noted the time of day, condition of the tracked person, and sketched constant coordinates as he took the device from Ajuka’s hand.

“Uh… Hey, Boss. Why do you want this guy so bad?” Ajuka inquired. “I mean, sure he’s

powerful, but I’ve had to fight a lot worse for you. You didn’t even want those guys!”

Ajuka’s boss looked up from his device, grinning wildly - a look that Ajuka, even after

the several years he had worked with him, had yet to lay eyes upon without feeling a deep, primal fear.

“He’s got potential, Ajuka. He’s got so much potential, and he wastes it helping others. He’s got our variety of powers and his parents were part of the experiment, but he wasn’t a part of the experiment. Do you have any idea what that means? The powers are hereditary. I’ve got to research him. Human evolution could reach a peak ‘cause of me!” Rich’s eyes gained a crazed and oddly empty look, as though his humanity was transported elsewhere. “Do you get it now!?” bellowed Rich. Ajuka nodded slowly and tentatively took a couple small steps backwards, realizing he was walking on eggshells.

Rich frowned upon seeing Ajuka’s reaction. The look slowly but surely left his

eyes. “I see. You don’t get it, do you?” Rich mumbled after several minutes. “Don’t worry about me going off on you. You’re too valuable.”

(this is the cutoff from edited to STILL NEEDS FUCKIN’ EDITING)

Before Ajuka could say anything else, his boss glanced at a beeping on the device in his hands, uttered a disgusted string of slurs, then stormed through the door he had just bolted through. Ajuka felt his legs automatically tense and straighten as he stood, finding his center of gravity and holding his current pose. He always underestimates me! Ajuka thought. He thinks I’m some dumbass. After a few seconds, Ajuka broke free from his subconsciously attained pose and turned to the door, scowling. He thinks I’ll stay just because I’m valuable to a piece of shit like him?

Ripping a piece of paper from a notepad next to the first-aid kit and snatching a pen from

his pants pocket, Ajuka began to scribble out a furiously-written note. He was finally fed up with Rich’s tomfoolery. Seven goddamn years and he still sees me as inferior, he thought. He finished his letter, ripped it from the notepad, and promptly slammed it down onto the table face-up. He turned on his heels, body pulsing in pain to the rhythm of his heartbeat. Wounds reopened themselves throughout his arms and upper torso from the series of abrupt movements.

I don’t need that piece of shit Rich. I don’t need anyone but me, myself, and I.

He had made it several feet down the hall before he looked back once, fuming. Upon beholding the horror that charged towards him, his eyes widened and his stomach began to roil. His mouth went dry, every hair on his body standing on end. The footsteps echoed throughout the halls of the bunker as Ajuka shot off down the short corridor in a sprint, seemingly unaffected by the pain and the reopened wound gushing blood. His heart raced, maybe even skipping a beat or two. He blasted through the building as fast as a severely wounded man could, melting into the umbra of the corridor save for his blood trail turning the white marble tiles red and tracing his path.

Rich heard rushing footsteps from the other side of the door. He whipped it

open, only to hear the footsteps retreating and the occasional thud. He cursed as he lifted the note that lay on the ground, momentarily glancing up to try and see where the person ran off to. He absentmindedly eyed the note.

Dear Rich,

I am NOT your goddamn puppet. Next time you try to hire a man into slavery and not actual work, make sure that they stay suppressed, you fucking lunatic.

Your ex-employee,

Ajuka

Rich’s eyes went from uninterested to intense shock and fear in mere moments while reading the note. He bolted down the hall, following the stream of blood on the floor, which he could only assume was Ajuka’s. He never was any good at first aid, Rich thought to himself, recollecting about past tropes. He shook his head, however, and cleared them from his mind. Focus, he told himself over and over. Focus. Focus. Focus.

All of a sudden, the noises in the background had faded from existence. No

more fleeting footsteps. No more thuds. Not even the air around him seemed to move. Rich impulsively stopped in his tracks. He took a deep breath, and began walking quickly and quietly in the direction he started.

Rich began to recollect about Ajuka again, but couldn’t push the thoughts out

of his mind. All the times Ajuka had saved him, all the times Ajuka helped him, all the times Ajuka…

Rich paused. All the times he’s almost died for me. Especially…

At that moment in time, Rich knew exactly where Ajuka went.

—————————————————————————————————————

Rich rushed down the twisting concrete corridors which eventually led to solid

steel tunnels that gradually grew wider and more straightforward. The smell of nickel and sulfur grew stronger and more defined; soon, the steel walls gave way to titanium walls, and the smell of sulfur became overpowering. The walls were tattooed with yellow stripes and various danger symbols, and after a quarter of a mile in, the tunnels had cages engraved on the sides. Feelings of both oppression and control overtook Rich, giving him an odd sense of nostalgia. He continued on, however, to a very specific section of the tunnels he deemed as the “Dead Zone”. This is where he hid his projects he never planned to complete, or projects deemed too dangerous and uncontrollable. It was another half-mile walk to the cages in the Dead Zone. Here, his initial suspicions were confirmed.

It can’t be… he thought. He would never do something so reckless… would

he?

Rich heard an intense banging in the distance, rapidly growing closer. He also

noticed a trail of blood, not yet dried, leading towards the emergency exit. He took a single step towards the door, when something massive flashed in front of him, smashing into the wall of the tunnel to his immediate left. By the time Rich managed to turn his head, the thing was gone, but left a large dent in the solid titanium wall. Again, in the distance, he heard more banging footsteps that quickly grew closer.

He… He really did it, didn’t he? Rich thought to himself. He wants to ruin the

entire facility, but… this!? Rich’s entire body tensed up, and his mind began roiling in despair and, oddly, curiosity. He looked in the direction of the footsteps, and his fears were terrifyingly confirmed. The creation he feared most hurtled towards him, and he barely had time to dodge as the behemoth charged past him. Time seemed to move in slow motion as he saw, in surprising detail, the abomination he created years ago.

The monster’s spine protruded from its body, almost as though it realized just

how monstrous its host was and was trying to escape. Its skin was oddly glistening and brandished a deep, blood red color. The beast was at least eight feet tall, limbs disgustingly disproportionate. Its torso was remarkably bulky, and its lungs were pressed forward from its chest, similar to a cheetah’s. It stood as a human would, save for an oddly hunched back, and even looked as though the basis for it came partially from a person. However, its enormous hands and feet didn’t have human fingers or toes; it had three razor sharp claws on each hand and each foot, stained a disgusting yellow. Its body seemed to be overly muscular, and its limbs appeared to be constantly strained and flexed. The amalgamation of nightmares wasn’t finished there, though. The head of the beast looked like that of a frog, but razor sharp, plaque-stained teeth kept its maw propped open. Its enormous mouth spread all the way to its ears - or rather, where its ears would be. It compensated with two small holes on either side of its head, and two more slits on the front of its face replaced any possible nose. Its eyes were nothing but small, black spheres embedded deep into the skull, seemingly useless. Its feet dented the compact titanium on which it tread upon, and the stench emanating from it could only be described as the odor of a corpse flower.

Rich, in a silent state of conflicting emotions, couldn’t even blink. Fear struck

deep in his heart when its head turned to Rich, seemingly fixating on him. The thing’s voice was represented by a series of deep, echoing grunts and guttural growls, each noise reminding Rich of the pain of loss and past mistakes. He fell to his knees, body shaking, muscles going limp. He felt the need to move, but his legs wouldn’t budge. His mind began to shut down and his breaths became more shallow. “I thought… I thought that they were all…” he murmured. A few moments of hushed awe passed, and the abomination didn’t move. He realized why only when more grunts and growls echoed through the tunnels.

Rich turned slowly to find several other beasts, identical to the first, bound in

through the darkness. They turned away from Rich, then communicated in the unknown language for a decent time before turning back to Rich’s general direction.

Then they screamed.

The sound they emitted could only be described as a child, woman and

animal screaming in perfect unison, bone-chilling and blood-curdling and yet, somehow, almost human. It resounded through the tunnels, and Rich felt himself slip into a panic attack. It sounded like several women and children in intense pain combined with nails on a chalkboard. The intense feeling of bloodlust the things emanated was overpowering and terrifying. They leapt all at once towards Rich. Then everything went black.

Rich awoke, body aching and throbbing, still in the same place within the

corridors. He sat up, rubbing the back of his head and grabbing the bottle of Ibuprofen he always kept in his coat. His eyes turned to face an underlit section of the containment units, and saw a familiar figure. He tried to reach out to the tall female silhouette, but found his legs were chained to the ground with his dominant hand.

“I told you, Rich,” the figure bellowed, commanding and intense, “That you

were to never lose Ajuka.” Her voice seemed celestial, but somehow deadly.

“But-“ Rich started, still trying to understand the situation himself.

“I don’t wanna hear a damn thing outta you, Rich,” rumbled the figure. “You were

warned, and now I’m following through. You’re cut off. You’re. Done.” The mysterious woman crossed her arms and seemed to melt into the wall’s umbra.

Left staring down the corridor with his dreams crushed, legs immobile, and

body sore, Rich was left to contemplate his decisions. He felt his eyes begin to burn, felt a cool drop of liquid run down his cheek. He took a shaky breath before realizing what he was doing; for the first time in his life, he began to cry.