IRD 3

“You are telling me, that I should believe that a guy like you is called Steve?”
“I like Minecraft ok? It’s a nickname given to me by some of my colleagues”
“Sure”
“You realise our conversations are recorded…”
“Yep, I assume it helps the specialist’s figure out if any of your kind is getting too attached to any individual subject. Even giving me a name to call you would be a risk to me… were I not down here”
“How many times… we are not here to torture you for information. We are simply trying to keep you from going on a murderous rampage, as you seem prone to doing in the story you have told me so far”
“Self-defence”
“Sure, sure, the lawyers will believe you. Not as if you are a creature clearly capable of violence”


Orion glanced up towards the observation deck, where Steve was looking down at him. His gaze shied away when Orion looked up, focusing instead on one of the camera displays.


“I find these little chats entertaining, as always. Every time, it is brought right back around to one simple thing. You don’t believe I was ever human”
“No one we have collected was ever human, no matter what they might try to get us to believe. That is what we were told”
“Use the SAS example. They didn’t question orders. They killed what they considered a dangerous threat to society. Not once, did the pride of the Australian army stop and think. What if this is wrong? What if they are not as ferocious as they were lead to believe? Hell, they didn’t even really ask me if I was willing to turn myself in. Even the lesser wolves were HUMAN. That is the entire definition of Werewolf. Part human, part wolf, complete badass… yet some of them refused to fight, even when their friends were being slaughtered. They let themselves die when shot, without putting up a fight”


Steve looked back at Orion, his face mostly displaying his confusion, which was also present in his voice when he asked:


“How did you?”
“You reviewed the footage, and after action report from the SAS squad leader, before coming in to talk to me. I simply checked your short term memory, which might as well have been unguarded by mental blocks, and finally saw what they were doing. You skipped to the part in the car park, not quite thinking about whether the rest of the footage was worth your time. You ran late as a result, wanting to confirm the so called facts, before I told you what happened. Tell me, Steve. What did you think of the footage?”
“The SAS troopers were in the right”
“As I expected… classic response, without even thinking back on the footage… you were probably given a script, about what to say in X situation, if Y is correct”
“Get, out, of, my, head”


Orion looked down, and shook his head, smiling as he did so. Steve was making this too easy.


“Oh, but that’s the funny part. I am not even in your head right now. Trust me, you would know. They were able to dampen my stronger abilities, but the weaker ones, like checking mentally unguarded information… it’s like not locking your computer, and walking away from it, which you do so often”
“GET OUT OF MY HEAD YOU FREAK”
“Then you need to tone down on the emotions. That’s what they told you, before you were cleared to pry this information from me. Don’t let your emotions get out of control, he feeds on them, and uses them to strengthen his hold on you. Also, you are locked in here for a pre-determined amount of time. If I really wanted to, I could make your head explode right now. Your emotions are that strong”
“SILENCE… I ask the questions around here. And you will remain silent unless I tell you otherwise”


Orion had forgotten about that small fact. The tiny, almost insignificant thing that they could hurt him, with the push of a button… a panic button if you will, built into the metal restraints that kept him there. On cue, Steve activated this system, sending electricity through his body that would easily have killed a human. He cried out in agony, which surprised Steve.


“I’m sorry, ok?”
“What did… you think, that button was going to do? Give me a little zap, like the collar we had on RJ? I would like to see you after getting shocked by this contraption”
“I didn’t think it would hurt…”
“You seem legitimately concerned. Even your deeper subconscious is ashamed of what you did…”
“I don’t want to have to do that again. But push me, like you were before, and I will use it”
“Fair point, I was going too far. I can admit to that…”
“Such a pure hearted soul… It’s almost a shame you have been trapped in that body, stuck in here”
“You’re telling the boy who has been stuck in this form for quite some time now. I miss being able to fit into society. It’s a little difficult right now. I miss the sky, and I want to just enjoy living life my way”
“So… where were we?”
“I was unconscious, and unbeknownst to me, headed towards a military facility, intended to hold others like me, for an indefinite period of time. Kind of similar to this place, you know”
“Yeah… Odd that, isn’t it?”
“What is weirder is the use of the Chinook. They were being phased out, and most were unserviceable, and in museums”
“Heavy duty cargo lifting equipment…”
“They were carrying the corpse of the Alpha, weren’t they?”



With that in mind, some of this mess begins to make sense. Why they used the Chinook for a tactical insertion, when it is not exactly a quiet aircraft. They can carry a light tank or jeeps no trouble, slung underneath the helicopter’s belly. Not to mention, the two mini guns mounted on the side of the particular Chinook that I was being transported in, and the Alpha’s corpse, carted out into the courtyard of the hospital, and picked up by the Chinook. The SAS troopers would have been watching me carefully the entire flight, sedated as I was, and likely kept injecting it into me at frequent intervals.


When I did eventually come out of the induced coma, I found myself in an extremely basic prison cell, with what amounted to no windows, reinforced concrete walls, one of the most uncomfortable looking beds you have ever seen, suspended from chains  connected to the wall, a corroded metal toilet, and an equally poorly maintained sink. The mirror above the sink was cracked, distorting the reflection in places. I made use of the most intact section to check over my body. My upper body was still naked; my shirt had been taken off, probably so they could inspect the progress of the cancerous growth. I turned around, and checked the back of my neck, and found it had spread up to just below my head. The front was no better, with it stopped just about to spread onto the underside of my jaw. I at least still had a pair of shorts, the ones I had initially modified on accident on the AME course. I noted there was no obvious door, and without a view to the outside world, I had no idea what time it was, or where I was. The heat, however, made it fairly obvious I was still near the equator, at the very least. More likely, was that I was either in the middle of the Australian outback, or on the northern most point of QLD, both places known for their incredible heat or humidity.


Too curious for my own good, I temporarily removed my pants, so I could check if there was any change lower down… I think I noticed the lack of an important male body part more-so than the cancerous growth. For whatever reason, it was gone. No trace of it existed. This greatly disturbed me… how was I supposed to pee? When I had the urge, I had no choice but to sit on the rusted toilet, and heard as my liquid waste was dispensed from my ass, followed by the solid faecal matter. It was probably made in conjunction with internal organ modification, altering the piping, as it where, that caused the loss of that which males value most. Me, not so much, as I had never used it for any other purpose than to aim my liquid waste… suppose this made the system simpler, having the one, rather than two separate systems. It didn’t appear to have spread beyond that, so my legs were still that they were before this madness, along with my arms and head.


Alone with my thoughts, I slipped my pants back on, sat down on the basic stretcher that constituted as my bed, and just sat there for a little while, to reflect again on the recent events of my life. Ghost, the mutation, the werewolves at the hospital… and how Mark, my long forgotten friend, had given me some warning about what could happen to me, even if they didn’t really think it would at the time. I wondered what he was up to at this time, where he was, and what he was doing. Not to mention the progress of his change. He didn’t view it as a bad thing, if I remembered correctly. Knowing where one stands mentally, is as important as physically, so I further checked my prison.


Surprisingly, when I checked the dimensions of my new cell, I found that they were far above the minimum size… by all of 500mm (half a metre) It certainly made the room a bit more spacious than the 2 by 3 metre cells I had heard about, but it was still smaller than the room I used to sleep in, even if it was less furnished, it still felt somewhat cramped in places, where everything was bolted into the concrete. With nothing, other than time on my hands, I tried to see what I could do to alter my situation in any way. As it stood, I was completely helpless… until I remembered my tail, as I knocked it into the wall as I turned around. I know it is weird how you forget you have something, until you feel pain in it. Keep in mind; I didn’t have enough time to adjust to it yet.


It had not even been a week at this point since I had grown it, not to mention the near constant changes to my anatomy that this cancer was causing. I still considered it as such, an uncontrolled mutation, yet I was finding that some of it was more useful than others. The tail’s tip was good; the loss of the male genitalia was extremely disconcerting. I pulled my pants back up, sliding my tail through the stitched hole, then fastening the belt around my waist, before a siren blared, and a section of the ceiling came down, in front of where I had imagined the door should have been. Said spot had been gouged repeatedly with my tail in the time it had taken for this siren to go off, but wanting to know where I was overrode all other thoughts at the time.


I stepped up onto the lowered ceiling, somewhat cautiously given I knew not what I was about to be raised into. The machinery detected my weight, and began rising, taking me above my cell. I found a sign once it reached the top, meaning I should be able to find it again in the future. It included a sort of physiological makeup of who I was, and how I would likely react to given stimulus. I walked to the next cell over, and was surprised when it included a name: Mark Kim, AKA Harbinger. The attachment included armour and weapons specs, even though it had been taken off of him, and the same sort of report that was included on mine. As I watched, the platform went down, and out from it came Mark… paler than I remember, with a slight blue hue to his skin tone… not to mention the fact he was a built differently from when I last saw him, and the grey under suit that fitted to his form like a second skin, showing off his muscular frame. But his face was largely unchanged, still showing his South Korean origins.


“Mark… how?”
“They caught me while I was asleep. I didn’t have my armour on, and now they are inspecting it. They didn’t even leave me the boots. Long-time no see, my friend”
“Yeah, it has been too long. Sorry I didn’t believe you when you said this was happening to you”
“That is fair, given the likelihood of this happening to both of us. How did you end up here, and why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”
“The shirt was not included. As for how I am here, blame the SAS, and their shoot first, ask questions later attitude. Where are we anyway?”
“I was hoping you could tell me. I have been down here since shortly after I sent you that message… I might have made myself a little too well known too quickly”
“It seems as if I took my time in my change… but something is different”
“I would say you are becoming Blood weaver, but it happened faster than this when you were writing it”
“Time wise, it happened within a week… this is me after a week of known change, and much longer without anything wrong”
“You haven’t grown any scales on your torso yet, just this leather like skin”
“Like the suit you are wearing right now is worn underneath the Harbinger armour”
“Ah... Remember some of our discussions?”
“What like ridiculously sized cannons and ships, and how I balanced them?”
“The thunder child with its unreliable tesla cannon, but still powerful”
“Then there is your insanity, with entire galaxies thought up, each with different planet that sustains life having a different culture”
“I never completed that”
“Yeah… you wanted to become a history lecturer? Before all of this”
“I did. I even took a crack at it after my initial change”
“What happened?”
“Let’s just say, it didn’t go so well. People don’t seem to appreciate someone who is different”
“Too right”
“You were in the process of doing an aircraft maintenance course?”
“Yeah… it was the catalyst that caused my change. Not to mention a representation of a character I made appearing out of the ether and making my life hell for a little while”
“What came first?”
“Ghost did… then the tail. Then everything else went to crap. Werewolves… are really tough”
“You kid me. You fought Werewolves?”
“I kid you not. They were very real, and in part, accelerated this cancer”
“Why did you say cancer?”
“Because that is exactly what it is. An uncontrolled growth, or change in cell structure, constantly duplicating and taking control of other cells. Only in this case, it seems to be, for the most part, beneficial”
“Why for the most part”
“I no longer have the fatal male weak point”
“Ah… your waste goes through your butt now, right?”
“Yeah, I think I vaguely remember telling you about that possibility. You know the routine here, can you show me around”
“Gladly”


He had been through this daily routine for long enough to know what the owners of this prison wanted. No guards, no turrets, and no real security measures other than cameras in critical locations… only it was impossible to escape. No windows throughout the entire prison, except for the central complex. And even then, that was just a display, a clever one, but still just a display. The only way in and out of the facility was up. And the testing facilities were on the surface, so he had been told. No way in hell he was getting any of his equipment. They had found a way to disrupt the self-retract feature inherent in all of his armour pieces, and weapons. And in my case, they had found a way to pause the cancer’s progress. Something in the food, which targeted any new cancer cells attempting to change more of my physical form… didn’t mean I still felt the pain when it was trying. As the days wore on, I felt more and more pain, caused by the additives to the food that were preventing my change, but not inhibiting the pain caused by the reversed process. I got to know a few of the other prisoners, when they were occasionally let out of their cells to interact with us. There was a surprising variety in the types… some flying, others more or less brainless brutes, and others who were much more intelligent than they let on. In total, around 30 of us were trapped in the facility, assuming this was the only section.


In short, the facility, although poorly maintained in places, was designed for long term containment of unusual creatures, which were a risk to human society. That and it was a controlled testing environment, as I was to find out.


I will not claim to have assisted with the set-up of the escape. It was in planning for a few months before I got there. My addition to the prisoner’s pool made things much more difficult. Each one had to find out what was keeping them controlled… in my case, it was the cancer curing food additives. In the case of others, they could not be saved. In the end, there were around 20 who saw no life for themselves on the outside. Thankfully, Mark was not among them. That left 10 of us who were capable of something once we escaped a reason to want to. I had unfinished business, is what I told the group, and that I knew already what was causing me massive amounts of internal pain was the same thing preventing further progress. As much as I hated it, I knew there was no way out of here without some progress to my form. So, whenever I got up in the morning, I thought about flying.


You might be wondering… why was I focusing on flying? Because I was not smart enough to figure out that the cancer was working based on my needs, and prioritised accordingly. Initially, when I wanted to kill Cam, I got an immediate weapon to kill him with, but then refused. Once that was complete, it was largely malignant, up until the hospital, where the leather like layer of skin ended up covering my entire torso and neck, for protection against attacks… I was subconsciously thinking that. Now, I was overtly thinking about aviation, and flying in particular, it would likely force wings to grow sooner, rather than later. At least, that was the theory.


So, I went and took others food for a couple days, and to no avail. Whatever they were doing to the food, it was to all of us. I tried going without food and water for a little while, but the second day saw me drinking the water again, with no progress. So instead, I did what I could to assist the others with their escape plans. Someone who had adapted to underground life had considered digging their way out, but it failed. They were adapted to scoop dirt, not cut concrete. I gave my skills, being my tail, and was able to chip out a section of the concrete… then was summarily put in isolation for a period of time for doing so. The digger was worse off, when they tried to dig the soil… and exposed some explosives… and hit them accidentally. The cave they were digging caved in, with some of their body and blood able to escape the hole before the tunnel collapsed entirely.


With that plan dead and buried, and 9 people left, 8 if you don’t include me due to solitary, some people began considering giving up. But the problem with putting me in solitary meant that I was not getting the same food as the rest of the compound. Maybe they did it intentionally, to see the effects in a controlled environment. Maybe they were just plain stupid. Whatever the case, I had a good week without the tainted food or water, meaning 1 week to grow my wings. Surprisingly enough, after about a week of nothing, as soon as they let me out of solitary, I felt burning pain in the area around my shoulder blades, causing me to fall to the floor almost immediately.


Mark noticed, and ran up to help, but I pushed him away, as the wings began forming, as bones grew, muscles formed, and a thin membrane grew in-between the whole assembly. When the pain was over, Mark cautiously approached, and offered me a hand up. I accepted… and looked in awe at the wings that had appeared almost as suddenly, and as painfully, as my tail, the thing that I considered to have started this whole mess. I didn’t know what exactly they were like, so I decided to check if I could manipulate them, like my tail. I was, and pulled the left one in front of my face, for closer inspection. As I had guessed, the wings were somewhat like that of a bat, lacking feathers, and using a thin membrane in-between little unmovable reinforcing members, with the whole assembly situated near my shoulder blades. I noted how fragile the whole assembly was, almost clearly being able to see the muscle structure underneath the leather skin, which shifted and flowed over the new muscle structure. When it was complete, I allowed Mark to approach. He offered his right hand, and I accepted, as he helped me up off of the floor.


The designers of this prison must not have anticipated that they would need to allow space for someone to fly, yet in the centre of the prison, I had a roughly 1km squared area to practice my technique. I was largely alone, as all the others that could fly were the ones that were content to stay in the hell hole forever. So I had no choice but to learn how to fly on my own. While I was practicing, however, Mark and the rest of the potential escapees needed to think of any alternative to using me. I was the new guy, after all, and unpredictable. Mark suggested not using me alone to clear the surface, and open up something to allow the rest to escape. He said he trusted me, enough for him to let himself be carried by me to the surface, where he could collect his armour, and blast his way to whatever control needed to be de-activated. Problem was… we didn’t know which control needed pressing to allow the prisoners to escape.


And so the plan was set in motion. When I returned from my practice flight the following day, they explained their plan, and how it hinged on me being able to break through the sky barrier. I don’t think they realised it was just a screen, it wasn’t actually the sky. I had no idea how long they had been here, wherever here was. I had to assume most of them were insane or not up to date with technology as Mark and I were. So, with that in mind, I attempted to carry Mark around while airborne. The wings I had grown were incredibly oversized, meaning I could easily carry him by linking my arms together, underneath his armpits. It put quite some strain on the newly developed muscles though, but I was capable of achieving limited flight while I was holding him. And so we ascended, above the ground, completely under my own power. I didn’t reach the glorified screen; I had put too much strain on my wings to do so. I was able to control our descent somewhat; able to angle my wings in such a way that we were going as slow as I could make us before we hit the dirt below the screen. Still fell on top of Mark though. I rolled off of him as soon as I could, somehow not hurt my wings too badly, and tried again alone, while Mark waited patiently below.


“WHAT IS TAKING YOU SO LONG UP THERE D?”
Or should I say, impatiently?
“NOT MY FAULT MY WINGS CAN BARELY HOLD ME UP”
“WELL, JUT TRY NOT TO TAKE TOO LONG UP THERE D. BIG BROTHER IS PROBABLY WATCHING YOU RIGHT NOW”
“WILCO”


I continued ascending, no longer held back by Mark’s bulky frame. For comparison, for those of you who know about TF2, the heavy was similar to Mark, and I was one of the smaller classes. I wasn’t worrying why he was calling me D at the time, as focused as I was on reaching higher. I fell again, my muscles still not powerful enough to maintain sustained flight, even if I was just trying to carry myself. The actual wings and tail, as light as they were, had added at least 20kgs to my weight. Not to mention, I was tiring myself out by trying so hard, so fast, to ascend to heights I had yet to reach. So with one final flap, just as I reached the screen, my wings gave out completely, and I fell back down towards the grassy floor. As I was falling, I saw the look of realisation on Marks face, and he began moving in an attempt to catch me. I smiled, thankful of his efforts, and found myself blacking out. I didn’t know why, or how, but it was happening. Something was changing again. Something I wouldn’t necessarily want to wake up to.


“So… how do I know all of this is true?”
“You tell me, inspector. You could have checked out the surveillance footage of the facility in question, taken from it”
“By the same group of SAS that captured you”
“…That I did not know”
“And here I was, thinking you were some all-knowing god”
“No, I am not. Contrary to popular belief”
“So, what happened next?”
“You probably know already, since you seem to have done your homework”
“This isn’t about me, remember?”


Ok… so I woke up in solitary again, like before. Only this time, I had some sort of tube stuffed down my throat, and secured to my head by the means of a harness. I was situated over a toilet, so my waste needs were taken care of. I also noted that I had been stripped naked, and that I could not breathe through my nose. I felt breathless, so I breathed in. Instead of the air which I needed though, a foul taste filled my mouth, as a brownish paste flowed through the tube. I had no choice but to consume it. I found my arms were curiously unsecured, and I attempted to remove the harness secured to my head, in some vain attempt to escape. It was not locked by any conventional means, nor could I simply slid it off of my head, because to do that, I would need to not have a large tube stuck in my mouth, that happened to be attached to the harness. They weren’t stupid though, they had found a way to prevent my tail of being any use, by putting some sort of metal cover over the sharp tip. So I had little choice but to consume the foul paste, shortly followed with metallic tasting water. Once both of those were clear of the pipe, only then was I allowed to breathe once more.


I heard some sort of commotion going on outside, almost sounded like gunfire, but not from any weapons I recognised. While the chaos was occurring outside, I finally realised what had changed. My entire body was now covered with the black leather skin. I pulled at some that was on my arms, and I knew it was my skin. I can’t really explain how I knew… combination of the nerves, and feeling in it maybe, or how if it was a second skin, it was so closely bonded to my original layer of skin that they were one and the same. I felt my face; it had the same texture as the rest of my body. As I ran my hand over the top of my skull however, I found something that was definitely not there before. Surprisingly, I still had hair on top of my head, but I had grown horns. Small, little stubby things, little more than ornamentation at the time, but they were there. I felt along my spine, and found a similar occurrence. Small spikes, made of a similar material to the ones on my head, had grown along my spine, and tail. I began panicking, thinking about the effects of whatever they had just fed me. In doing so, I was able to rip my tail out of the restraints.
It still had a chunk of wall attached to it as well, but all I was concerned about was ripping off the sheath. It was a solid piece, as if it had been formed around my tail. It removed the sharp blade like qualities of my tail, making it little more than a glorified paper weight… which brought about the train of thought that it was heavy enough to use as a mace. It was the perfect shape and everything. Maximised surface area and weight for its size, not to mention they had put it onto an appendage that was capable of shearing through thick steel already. This thing would be extremely effective at causing blunt force trauma. In my mussing, I had forgotten about the chaos outside, not to mention my wings, cooped away as they were in the cramped 1M squared cell. I was not supposed to be able to move. I stood up from the toilet, which was allowed by the tube in my mouth, and I looked out the small window towards the chaos outside my door. Given what I saw, I forgot about attempting to remove the paper weight.


Outside, there was a full on prison riot, with various otherworldly creatures that I did not recognise, all of which were not in the previous section, tearing apart the walls, and just about anything they could see. I flinched as a human body was slammed into my door, followed by the cracking of their various bones, and the wet thud as they hit the floor. The creature that had done that stared into my eyes, and seeing my unnaturally dark skin, decided to attempt to open the door. They failed, whether it was due to the locking mechanism being stuck in the on position, or because they didn’t know how to operate what I could only assume was a simple control, they gave up, and walked away. I watched, unable to cry for help due to the harness and tube, and watched them go. I lost hope, and sat back down. I just wanted to flex my wings so badly; they were too big for me to fit easily in this room. I think they had recovered from the flight attempt I had made, but it seemed clear. I was not getting out of here, unless I did something. But what could I do? I tried ripping off the paper weight again, but the only way that was going to happen is if it was melted. It had been cast directly onto my tail, so there was no way I was getting it off with just my hands. As I said that though, I began thinking about what tool I could use to melt the iron/steel. A plasma cutter would do nicely.


As I thought about it, I heard a clunk, as if something metal had just hit the concrete floor. I looked down, and saw a small plasma cutter… Either it was extreme coincidence, or I had created it from thin air. I wasted no time in grabbing it, and began applying heat to the paper weight. Coincidence or no, I had my means of escape within my grasp. I could always remove the harness later, I just needed to cut the tube, which was made of a clear flexible plastic, and then the hinges of the door, and I could escape the prison while the riot was going on. I could feel the plasma torch’s heat through the metal, hitting my tail. It was an intense heat, but ultimately one that was giving me strength. I watched intently, as I waved the plasma cutter all over the sheath, watching the metal go from grey, to a dull red. I was making progress. I could hear the chaos outside had moved elsewhere, meaning that I would likely be alone once I got out of this cell. But first things first, I needed to remove the metal sheath.


It didn’t take much longer for the metal to melt off, and begin hardening on the floor. Surprisingly, the underside, which I was largely ignoring, fell off with a clunk once enough material had been removed. The sounds outside were quieter now, either meaning I had missed the party, or that they had moved on. Either way was fine, I would just have to alter my plans, based on the circumstances. With my tail free, I cut the tube, letting it hang limp from my face for now, and set about cutting through the door. The hinges are by far the weakest link in any door. This one may have had a surprisingly thick door, but all that meant was it would put more strain on the hinges. Not to mention, it was still indented from when that human was slammed into the door. I was able to slide the tip of my tail down both sides of the doorframe, the tip being about the same width as a knife blade, and cut through the electronic locks, and the hinges, on either side. All it took was one strong kick, and the door fell down. I heard a squelch as the door hit the floor, crushing the guard’s corpse.


As I stepped out, I saw blood beginning to seep out from underneath the door, as I looked around at my surroundings. Assuming I was in a different area of the prison, that would make sense as to why everything around me was different. Instead of the wide open areas, like which I enjoyed in the previous area of the prison, I could only assume I was now in the maximum security section. The gunfire drew louder, and I saw at the end of this long, somewhat curved corridor, a group of security guards with automatic weapons running from something, firing wildly backwards. I headed in that direction, as I saw a blood covered rioter chasing after them. They paid me no mind, even though I was stark naked, and I felt extremely uncomfortable being so, they seemed to embrace it. I went into an all-out sprint towards this behemoth, roughly the same size as the werewolves in the hospital, and speared their leg with my tail as I caught up to them. I could hear the security guards stop running, and turn around to face this bloodthirsty brute. It swung one of its gorilla sized arms towards me, in an attempt to pummel me into the ground. I rolled forwards, avoiding their strike, and raking their underside with my tail, leaving a deep gash in their abdomen. They grunted in agony, and tried to squash me with their weight. I was able to avoid the worst of it, but I left my tail in a position where it was caught by them. It sliced into their back, and they began rolling backwards, sort of like that boulder in the first Indiana jones movie. Thanks to the high ceiling though, I was able to leap over it, and lash out again as I went over it.


I had kept my wings close so far, and chose this moment to spread them, to get some distance between me and the beast. It stopped rolling, got up, and began charging towards me like the angry gorilla that it was. Like the hospital, a shotgun appeared in my hands, out of nowhere, and I fired. Only instead of a ballistic shot, it fired pure energy, which visibly sent this creature reeling. I pumped the shotgun, and fired again, aiming for their right knee, sending them to the floor. I pumped the shotgun again, and aimed for the creatures head. It looked at me, a last despairing look on its face, and I hesitated for a second… it used my mercy to lash out at me in one final attack, which landed. I was knocked into the wall, but retained my grip on the energy shotgun, aimed for the head, and squeezed the trigger. Its head exploded similar to a watermelon, with chunks flying in all directions. With no more need of the weapon, I discarded it onto the floor, where it dissipated back into nothingness.


I edged around the creature towards the security team, and found that they had cornered. If I hadn’t helped them out, they would have died, without a doubt. As I approached them, one of them raised their rifle, but their leader, I assume, pushed it down, realising what I had done. When they spoke, they were not afraid, like the SAS, or anything else. He was simply grateful that I helped him, when I had no reason to do so. Their voice was deep and commanding, yet also calming. I wasn’t about to go trusting him with my life just yet, but it appeared as if his subordinates were completely loyal to him.
“How often are you a badass?”
“When it suits me”
*Sigh* “Sir, should we?”
“Negative private, you are not to harm this one”
“What, you came down here to free me?”
“Maybe we did. The fact that you just saved us from a brutal death helps. That brute over there nearly wiped out the barracks single handed”
As the commander said that, I noticed the various amounts of equipment they had. The private that had spoken before was wearing full riot gear and body armour, but the rest, including the commander, were in various stages of clothing. The other private was in their night clothing, a lightweight pair of shorts and shirt, with a webbing belt not unlike mine at home. The last guard had a pack, and carrier plate, and radio, but they too were in shorts and a T shirt, probably was their off duty day. The rank slides on their body armour labelled them as a corporal. The commander, surprisingly, had gotten into their military fatigues, using a camouflage pattern I was unfamiliar with, but lacked the carrier plate. They were wearing a dress beret, and armed only with a .44 revolver, which he had holstered on his belt.


“You are?”
“The name is Captain Hudd; I was the watch commander for the security forces tasked with keeping this section of the prison secure. That quickly changed as of 3 hours ago. When everything started going wrong, we called for backup, just before that brute came and wiped out most of the barracks”
“As far as I can tell, we are the last armed security forces in the prison, based on radio traffic, and estimated casualties during the initial wave of violence”
“For whatever reason, there was a priority message sent through to my phone, stating that a certain prisoner in… how have you been speaking?”
“Oh right, the tube in my mouth. That is a good question”
“Sir, I was going to tell you earlier. Initial reports of this subject indicated limited physic abilities. He was therefore transferred to this section of the prison for that alone”
“I prefer the term Psionic, but that’s fine with me”
“I had no idea. Thank you corporal”
The least dressed of the security personnel gave a crisp salute, even under the circumstances. I recognised it as the standard Australian salute, an easy, open handed salute, done with the right arm, brought up so the middle finger lines up with the eye. It only lasted about a second, but it was clear this was either a military operation, or he was ex-military.
“There was no need for that here corporal. Regardless, if you will help us, then maybe we have a chance at getting out of here alive. We know how to get in and out. We need to get to the minimum security section first though”

I tapped the captain's shoulder with the flat edge of my tail's blade, retracting it as he turned around.

“Question before we head off Captain”
“Shoot”
“Is your taken name Riley, by chance?”
“No way… I thought I recognised that voice”
“Now is not the time, gentleman. We can talk about how we all know each other once we get out of here”
“Agreed, it can wait captain”
“Second question; was I previously incarcerated in the minimum security section”
“You were transferred directly from there once your files were organised. Unconscious, for whatever reason”
We heard a roar echoing down the corridor, shortly followed by extremely loud footsteps. I leapt on top of the blood red brute, and thought about the energy shotgun once more. It materialised in front of me, exactly how I had left it… except it was full of ammo now.
“I don’t know about you lot, but I am ready to get the hell out of here. Preferably before something eats me”


That was all I needed to say. They didn’t trust me, which was fair. Not completely. Enough that I wouldn’t turn on them immediately though? Yes. They had to have seen the shotgun materialise out of thin air though, based on how I was holding it, I was ready to use it. It surprisingly had very little recoil, but so much stopping power. Likely due to the lack of moving parts, other than the pump action to load a new energy cartridge, which was ejected after firing thanks to the pump system. It looked as if it could hold 8 to 10 of the cartridges I had seen it eject. Reluctantly, they followed me. That or they wanted me to go in front, so they could be sure I wouldn’t kill them.




“Did you have plans to?”
“Kill them? No. Why would I have helped them then?”
“This whole story hinges around one thing. To know you are telling the truth, you should still be able to conjure the”
*Thud*
“Holy hell… you were telling the truth”
“Told you… I didn’t use to be able to conjure it if it wasn’t going to end up in my hands. Besides, I mentioned how they limited my ability. By the way, as long as I want that shotgun to exist, it will. Not like before, the moment it left my hands, it was gone”
“This looks just like a regular shotgun”
“It has one shot in it”
*Bang*

Orion sighed, as he looked to the impact site of the weapon, then back to Steve.

“… You tried to shoot me with my own weapon. Why am I not surprised?”
“You took no damage, from pure energy”
“Yeah, nor are you the first to try it. Pure energy is not really a thing. Psionic energy that somehow act as a much more effective slug round though… yes”
“How are you uninjured?”
“That, dear inspector, is a psionic energy shotgun. PES for short… the conjurer cannot be harmed by their own psionic energy. I initially used it to channel my largely dormant energy into a useable weapon, in times of need. But, over time, I learned to use, and apply my psionic energy in so many different and effective ways”
“And it’s gone”
“I told you already. I didn’t want that shotgun to exist anymore, so it ceased to exist”
“Can you do the same to people?”
“No. I can manipulate their trace amounts of psionic energy, which is how I was able to read your mind, or make it explode if I was not limited. However, I cannot make you disintegrate like that shotgun. Second, even if I could, and I was not limited, there is no reason to. It would feel cheap”
“Even if it took a massive psionic toll, such as it incapacitates you?”
“Yes, even if it took a massive psionic toll, it would still be unbalanced. Thus, it is an ability I do not have”
“That sounds a little odd… why say unbalanced?”




I am just going to continue the story from a little further on, if that is ok with you. We saw no sign of the creature we had heard before, but as we were going through the now abandoned prison, I could see the devastation that had been caused, and why the government was so worried about us, taking such extreme measures to keep us contained. Because some of us didn’t play nice when given the chance to do so… even if I was an exception to that, I was beginning to question if I should be let out.


There were the remains of a few security teams that we passed along the way. Broken guns, shattered body armor, torn scraps of clothing… and usually blood splattered all over the walls, and internal organs scattered. The checkpoints between the various sectors were the worst hit, having men stationed there at all times. There were a few casualties on the offensive side, thanks to automated turrets, and other defences. They were not enough. The checkpoint we passed through to get to the medium security section had a few monster corpses around. 2 lesser werewolves were among that list. I took a moment to check them… and closed their eyelids. The security team following me rolled their eyes, wondering why I did what I did. I ignored them. They did the same for the few of the dead who were still largely intact, all 3 of them. The rest though… there wasn’t enough left to do them even that small honor. The private that had gotten up me earlier puked at the sight of the next checkpoint, and to be honest, I was swallowing my own bile at the sight.


What was more surprising though is that there were markings on the wall, from what looked like an oversized wolf. This begged the question: what had caused them? The largest one I knew had been cut down by automatic fire over 2 weeks ago, possibly longer depending on how long I was out. But knowing what I do now, I can almost guarantee that it was the alpha of the hospital wolf pack. I had noted similar markings inside the car park where they retreated.




“The second checkpoint D… what did it look like?”
“I was getting to that”




The checkpoint itself had less monster casualties than the first, with far less defences that were ideal. I saw the remains of a few LMGs though, so that likely helped them somewhat. Only this time, there was blood red paste, and the occasional body organ, instead of any recognisable corpses at this checkpoint. I took a moment to gaze upon the devastation, before bringing up the question, which the private definitely was not expecting.


“Captain… is it really worth it? My freedom… has come at this cost”
“I don’t know. It’s not my call anymore anyway. Never was”
“You… want to stay imprisoned?”
“I don’t know what to expect, but I know that my form is yet incomplete. There is more to come”
“You would give away freedom… to stop this from happening to the surface?”
“Yeah, I would. I don’t know if I will keep my mind when the final change comes”
“D, I know this seems weird, but trust me on this. Whatever happens, I get the feeling that something real bad is gonna happen real soon, and when it does, we are going to need you, as a free man… whether the government or military will admit to that is another thing”
“I never asked for this, you know. I had hoped for some semblance of normality, after what happened to my family”
“Oh look, now the beast has a family”
“SHUT IT PRIVATE”
“He is not entirely wrong there. As far as he is concerned, I have no family. It helps him to sleep at night after he has tortured, killed, or abused the other monsters formerly imprisoned here. They have no family, they were born mutants, and die here”
“You a mind reader or something D”
“No. Just really good at reading people… my psionic potential is weak right now”
“Wrong about the torture thing though”
“So I am right. You think I have no family. Check my files when you get the chance. I know at least one of you has the clearance to do so. You might be pleasantly surprised at what you see”
“So you don’t have a family?”
“SSHHH”


I was still talking via manipulation of psionic energy, but that didn’t mean I didn’t hear movement behind us. I turned around, and spotted something lurking in the shadows. As soon as I did, it let out a fearsome roar, and we bolted the hell out of there. I took the occasional pot-shot at it with my shotgun, largely missing. The security team was now in front of me, keeping a hold of my tail so I didn’t run in the wrong direction. They kept making turns in an attempt to evade the creature bearing down on us, and lead us towards the minimum security section, with the creature close behind. It was still gaining. I noted who was holding my tail, and found it was Captain Hudd…


“Riley… I know we just found each other after all this. I didn’t expect you to get a job here, of all places. But you cannot fight that thing. Get out of here”
“Not gonna happen D”
“Riley. That thing is going to continue following us, until it catches us. If I stay behind, you and your team can get out”
“RGHH, fine… just try not to die”
“Always”


He reluctantly let go of my tail, our mental conversation being unheard by the rest of the security team. For that, I was glad, as the creature rounded the corner, and spotted me, standing between it and the security team, shotgun in hand. I didn’t hesitate, and began firing round after round at it. It charged. I continued firing. It didn’t slow down. I pulled the trigger, and the gun clicked. I dropped the shotgun, and sprinted after the security team. Somehow, I knew what turn they took, as I skidded, turned, and continued my headlong dash away from the three headed scaled creature behind me. Somehow, it was able to keep pace, even though it was smashing the cells either side of the corridor whenever it turned. I saw the next checkpoint, and much more than 4 security guards waiting there, guns ready. They ignored me as I sprinted past them, and opened fire on the hydra as soon as it entered the corridor. They knew it was coming, and what to expect.


They had set mines which I had somehow avoided, and gotten anti-tank rocket launchers set up, and waited for it. Not to mention, 2 belt fed Gau8 rotary guns, 6 LMGs, and enough grenades to destroy a small house. In short, they would destroy the corridor if they could stop that behemoth. How they got the weapons I didn’t care, I just watched from beyond the checkpoint as the hydra came around the corner… and all hell broke loose. Every explosive device they had was detonated on the hydra. Its forelegs were ripped apart from the grenades and mines, muscle and bone obliterated, sending it to its stubby knees. All three of its heads were exploded from the anti-tank rockets, sending bits of grey matter and skull flung all over the corridor, not to mention the blood. To make sure it was dead, the rotary guns continued firing at its corpse, for another 5 seconds or so after the rocket’s launched. Suffice to say, there was a very dead hydra, and a tonne of rubble where a corridor once was. The captain came up to me, rocket launcher in his left hand, and his right hand extended. I took it, and made it into a hug, releasing it after three seconds of pure silence.


“That was unexpected”
“The security guards here had one radio, which malfunctioned today. They were unable to transmit, but they could receive just fine. We were transmitting the entire time; they heard the hydra’s roar. They knew what was coming, without us realising it”
“And the anti-tank weapons came from where?”
“I think your friend is to thank for that…”
As he said that, Mark, fully kitted out in his glorious armour, walked on over, helmet tucker under his left arm, with the biggest smile I had seen on his face in a long time.
“That was firepower, right there”
“No doubt about it, when it comes to man-portable weaponry”


Mark’s armour is made of an extremely reflective metal, so there is no way in hell you are going to miss seeing him in the open. And when the mirage system is active, it can provide a number of different energy based weapons, with no set structure. Also, it allows flight. So… pretty OP.
“You made those weapons, didn’t you?”
“Yep”
“You made them more effective than what is available with modern technology”
“…Yep”
“You are extremely pleased with yourself”
“What do you think of my handiwork?”

I smiled, and responded, glancing over the carnage that he had caused.

“Very nice, but I think mine is better”
“Why?”
“I saved the life of the commander of the security forces here. They have the codes that will get us out of here”
“Oh… that is good”
“Also, they are an old friend of the family”
“Even better, but I noticed you have changed again”
“Yeah… I did. I am not comfortable with what is going to occur to me next, I am basically a blank canvas at this time”
“That’s true”
“Hate to interrupt you two, but we should probably leave. You pair are to be escorted out of this facility, to meet up with a government representative, and current head of the ADF”
“Mark, that means no annihilation with space lasers”
“Aw”
“I was being somewhat serious. Killing them is not in our interests. It will be extremely bad for your reputation… which is already bad as it is”
“Serious answer: I will not kill the government representative, or the Head of the ADF. Happy?”
“Where is this meet up anyway?”
“Near the border of the ACT, south of here… you know, the place full of politicians, and wine? Once you are done there, we can take you wherever you want within Australia”
“Thank you Cpt Hudd”
“It’s been a pleasure working with you two… except now I am out of a job”
“Well, the military is always hiring”


We began walking away from the checkpoint, Mark and I flanking Hudd, and with two additional security guards, fully equipped, behind us. They were not as apprehensive of us as they were before, but I had to wonder, how did we not see the checkpoint before? I asked this question to Hudd.


“Surprised you didn’t ask earlier. In the event of a total riot, like what occurred, certain measures are taken to secure various parts of this prison complex. Only, those failed. We had the riot contained to the maximum security section, but when you were transferred there, the checkpoint was opened. Thus, the whole prison was affected”
“That doesn’t answer the question”
*sigh* “Simply put, the lockdown protocol was in place to prevent any movement between sectors, without the appropriate credentials. You were kept in an induced coma close to a month, before you woke up”


I was still wearing the head harness; I think Hudd had forgotten about it, the cut tube still hanging down in front of my body. He piled us on board a Chinook, with the two security guards near the cargo hatch, and Hudd near the smaller door near the front. Mark pointed to my face as we sat down, reminding me of the harness. To be honest, I had more or less forgotten about it. I got him to take a look at it, and he saw no way to remove it. It used some sort of electronic locking system. No easy way to break it without it being permanently stuck on my head. I asked if Hudd could take it off, to which he replied he could not. It was the warden’s code, not his, that was needed to unlock restraints like this one. The warden was dead, killed in his office. The other option was that Mark creates a controlled EMP burst to fry the electronics, and hope they unfasten from my head. That was the only option that I could think might work, so I gave him the thumbs up to do it. I felt the energy pulse, and I knew it was weak.


And thankfully, I heard a click as the locks disengaged. I sat back up straight, and attempted to pull apart the harness from the back of my head, parting it where I had felt a metal disk when I first felt where the harness. I pulled, and it came apart, allowing me to pull out the tube that had been stuck down my throat. It ended up being about 1/10th of extra metre of tubing that had been inside of me, the end that had been inside of me being extremely smooth, unable to hurt me somehow. The pilot and co-pilot hopped on board, handing out headsets to us. Mark elected to put his helmet on instead, while I did take the headset, and connect it into the two ports behind my head built into the Chinooks frame. I was still amazed at the amount of tubing they had inside my body, or why they had used so much in the first place.


Even through the soundproofed headset, I heard as a set of large metal doors opened somewhere above us, and the sound of the engine as it began to start up. I relaxed, feeling safe about the situation, and had hopes that maybe; just maybe, I could put these strange goings on behind me, and live my life how I want to, not under the whim of the government, or with fear of prosecution.



“Is that it? You get a happy ending?”
“You should know inspector. This tale does not have a happy ending”
“Aren’t you going to call me Steve?”
“I don’t have to. Besides, someone else is likely coming in to replace you soon. Hope you took thorough notes on what you heard and saw”
“So… tell me what happens next”
“Can I skip the flight to the meeting point?”
“Yes”