Beyond the Horizon

38. Animals

Lab Coat didn't stick around for the actual transport from solitary to Section M; he did a quick check-up on Nezumi and issued a clean bill of health, then flashed a smile and went off to harass someone else.

          The officers frogmarched Nezumi through the corridors, his arms pinioned behind his back, the light-smothering sack over his head. The officer to his right—Tsuyu? He couldn't remember which officer was where—kept checking him in the side with his elbow, a silent reminder not to try any "funny business."

          It was ironic how wary and antagonistic the officers were toward Nezumi now, when Nezumi was feeling the least lethal he'd ever been. If they had been as attentive and a little less arrogant before, he might never have had the chance to make his short escape. If Nezumi ever wanted to escape now, it'd be a shitload harder. Not just days of planning, but months. Months of good behavior, pretending to be beaten, gaining the Lab's trust and building their conceitedness back to a point where he could shove it back into their faces as he made his grand escape.

          But Nezumi didn't feel like plotting right now. He had the energy to walk on autopilot down this corridor, up that one, catch himself when the officers shouldered him off balance, and that was it. And even for this he was losing motivation. If they didn't reach his cell soon, he might just decide to keel over and have them drag him the rest of the way. At least then Nezumi would have the satisfaction of inconveniencing the Lab and, if only for a short stretch, make everyone else as frustrated and miserable as he felt.

          The officers beside him stopped abruptly, each taking hold of one of his arms to ensure Nezumi stopped in line with them. Bright light burned Nezumi's eyes as the sack was ripped off his head, and he had to squint and drop his gaze to the ground. His sight had grown used to the dimness of solitary, and it seemed like he was going to have to suffer the eye-watering humiliation of getting used to brighter lights again.

          "Fucking pathetic," he heard Rashi mutter, and Nezumi stumbled forward as the man shoved him through the open door of his cage.

          The door thunked and whirred as it locked. Hatred bubbled up in Nezumi's chest, sticking tight to his sternum.

          "You're dismissed," Rashi said, voice clipped. "I want a moment with VC-221."

          Nezumi listened to the sound of boots disappearing down the corridor, and only when they faded from earshot did he attempt to raise his eyes a little. The light still stung, but it was getting better. He blinked a few times and raised his sight a little higher.

          The view wasn't too pretty.

          The look on Rashi's face was cold hellfire. His right arm was crooked and his bandaged hand lay across his stomach in a way that told Nezumi the man wanted him to look at it and know that this conversation was about vengeance.

          Nezumi stared at the empty space where Rashi's ring and pinky fingers had been before his father bit them off.

          "You should have killed me," Rashi said. For all the rage in his face, his voice was level, almost unconcerned. "If you were smart, you would have. But I guess you were too busy thinking with your dick to do the smart thing."

          Nezumi's gaze snapped up. "You fucking—!"

          The words burst out of him with such suffocated rage that Nezumi couldn't get the rest of the emotion out before the anger choked his throat shut.

          Rashi's mouth pulled into a mirthless smile. "You just had to go see for yourself whether your boyfriend was dead," he said, hunching forward a little, "instead of taking that opportunity to escape like a rational creature. You might have actually slipped out of our grasp, if it weren't for your pathetic attachment.