Chapter 24
Istood in front of one of the laboratory windows, with my eyes set on the curled, screaming person in the cell in front of me.
The cell was made for this. It was covered floor to ceiling in all white tiles.
There was a small drain to absorb any mess.
Perfect and functional. My phone rang and a message from Susan appeared.
‘She went through with it.’
I texted her a request for clarification.
Apparently, Susan had engineered some test of Tiffany’s loyalty to me.
She said she knew I was getting attached and decided it was necessary.
So she gave Tiffany the chance to be branded with my mark, or to refuse it.
She’d gone through with it. She accepted my mark.
Part of me wanted to punish Susan for going off the rails, but the pleased surprise that coursed through me calmed my desire for vengeance.
“Mr. Hill. This mutation is far beyond what we’ve seen in any specimen,” One of the scientists said, interrupting my thoughts. “It doesn’t look stable.”
“That’s because it isn’t. How is his heart rate?”
“In the danger zone, sir. I’m surprised he hasn’t gone into cardiac arrest.”
“So, it’s still beating.”
The scientist looked shocked at my cold assessment. Fine, let him be shocked. I didn’t owe anyone explanations anyway.
“Yes, sir, it is still beating,” he confirmed.
“Good. Have a crash cart ready to resurrect him in case it stops,” I added. “The observation data from this is too valuable to go to waste.
I ignored the scientist next to me and watched the muscles twitching on my new creation.
His skin struggled to keep up with the muscle growth.
One of the scientists observing the experiment looked away, while the other winced and closed his eyes when a piece of bone pierced through the mutating creature’s back.
I didn’t look away. The experiment was necessary and the subject … well …
I thought about when I first met Jason in the cell.
I’d watched him as the truth serum took effect. Jason, Tiffany’s friend and ally, didn’t look so tough when he was tied, naked, and drugged.
“So, Jason. What’s that tattoo on your wrist?” I asked, pointing to the Woodpecker tattoo. “That’s a Nazi symbol, isn’t it?”
“I–Yes, I joined a group.” I could see his clouded mind attempting a lie, but it was in vain.
“A group, huh? Interesting. Any fun group activities you got involved in? Maybe in town?” I asked.
“We … did a lot together,” he answered cryptically.
It didn’t matter. I knew something he wished I didn’t. All I had to do was to confirm. “Did you ever attack a woman with this group?”
“Just some nigger chick. Me and the boys took turns with her before telling her to get out of town.”
“Just some chick.” I refused to repeat him fully. Hateful, foul language like that … he deserved more than an average punishment. “Yes, you and your nazi friends would do that, wouldn’t you?”
I pulled my phone out as I watched Jason’s face contort in confusion, calling Susan to the room. I asked her to bring Wren. The two walked in, Susan in her usual business uniform, Wren wearing nothing but her bell collar, her massive breasts dripping with milk.
“Was this the girl you violated?”
Jason shook his head. The effect of the serum was passing. It didn’t matter; I’d heard enough. I turned to Wren, who looked petrified.
“Was this the man who did those things to you, Wren?”
“Y-yes. It was him,” she said without a hint of doubt, taking a step behind Susan.
Susan wore cold fury. She would kill Jason as soon as I gave her the chance. She would make it messy, too. As much as I wanted to watch the carnage unfold, I had bigger plans for him.
“Are you sure? Was he wearing a mask?” I probed, just wanting it to be stated plainly.
“He was but, I remember the-the shape of his arms and that fucking ugly woodpecker tattoo,” Wren whispered, terrified.
“Carter,” Susan complained.
“You’re right. That’s enough. You can go, Wren.”
“She’s lying! That fucking ni-”
I punched him in the nose, just as Wren was walking out of the door. At least she turned around in time to see me break it. Jason didn’t get to say that word in front of me twice. Jason howled like a wounded beast.
“Let me out! Let me out of here! I’ll fuck you up! I’ll kick your fucking teeth in!” He roared.
“Big threats for such a pitiful, scared little man.”
“Who is a ‘little man,’ you bitch? Let me out! I’ll kill you! You and everyone in this fucking place!”
His impotent fury didn’t help him with his bindings. Susan stepped in, grabbing a scalpel from a table and eyeing his balls. I knew what she had in mind.
“Let me do it, Carter. Let me be the one to do it,” she demanded while shaking with the force of her restrained rage.
I stepped in between them. “No. I have other plans.”
“Fuck your plans! I’ll kill you! I will!” Jason yelled, veins raised, nearly choking on his own blood as it ran down his face, barely darker than his flushed skin.
His words were interrupted as I pulled the injector pistol and punched a needle into his side. The experimental serum went in. I smirked.
“What the fuck did you do to me?”
“I injected you with something, obviously,” I said evenly.
“More truth serum? You fucking coward.”
I gently cleaned up the blood rolling down his face. “No, no. Something far more interesting.”
“What? What will it do to me?” Jason demanded.
“I don’t know. It’s very experimental.”
“You fucking bastard!”
As I watched Jason’s body contort in pain thanks to the mutations from the serum, I couldn’t help but smile, remembering that exchange.
His body was reshaping itself. Organs consumed other organs and produced new ones.
His skin ripped. Muscles were breaking bones with sickening cracks, as they grew.
It was hell; a hell of my own design. It was a fate worse than death.
Still, it wasn’t enough for a fucker like him. Jason’s body warped and blood ran into the drain in the middle of the cell. Then his monitor flatlined. He collapsed, twitching, slowly dying. That was too easy for him.
The crash cart hurried in, bringing the defibrillator paddles. The scientists tried to reanimate him once. Then twice. Nothing. It was too much for his body to take. I wasn’t going to let him get out that easily.
“Inject him with the stimulants and try again,” I said. “Triple the voltage.”
“Sir, the specimen-”
“He isn’t allowed to die,” I said, short and simple, “Not yet.”
I left no room for argument. My team injected him with more adrenaline, amphetamines, and blood thinners.
They used the defibrillator again and again.
Three, four, five times. Far beyond what was medically recommended.
By the sixth time, it worked. The monitor beeped with his heartbeat again. I sighed.
“Good,” I said. “Keep him alive. I don’t care if you need to hook him to seven machines. He isn’t allowed to die until I say he is, understand?”
“But sir-”
“If he dies, you’ll take his place,” I told the hesitant men. That did the trick.
“Yes, sir. Understood, Sir.”
I nodded and watched Jason start mutating again. He was brought back from the dead. The devil could have what was left of him later, but that son of a bitch would wait until I was done.