In the midst of war, a lone protogen sets out to survive rather than thrive, after his ship crashes on earth. Will he make it back to a home he never had?
Disclaimer: this is a fictional work. Correlation between real world events and this story's c...
The bulbs in the ceiling wouldn't stop buzzing. Every three seconds... a slight flicker bathed the space in yellow. The walls of the whitewashed concrete room echoed in such a way that he could hear every clack of claws, every awkward little cough, and even the hum of the flickering lights.
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They were waiting on him; expecting an answer that would never come. It wasn't his fault; especially at this moment, he didn't feel like saying much honestly. The protogen's smug silence seemed to press the questioner's nerves, which made him feel unreasonably happy.
"One of you blasted creatures better talk, or we can take you out of this cozy room and put you somewhere... unpleasant."
"This is your last chance, who is officer Karst, and which of you fiends speaks?!"
He pounded his fist against the wall—a statement that made his attendant flinch. Another minute passed as the five protogen sat on the floor, arms bound, facing the interrogators.
"No takers? Fine. For the record, we were going to let your friends join you here once they heal. It's a shame they'll have to be here alone while we move you all to solitary."
He reached for a button strapped to his jacket and immediately five heavily armed attendants burst through the door. Lemma and venturi both exited willingly, but there was always an outlier. After everything that had happened; after he had been detained, escaped, and been brought back with his arms and tail bound, Griffon STILL wouldn't stop growling.
/][Griffon, You're Going To Spoil The Plan.][\
/][NEUROCONNECT NOT RECIEVED<<SECONDARY PARTIES BLOCKED>> ][\
Oh Griffon...
All four of the others were already out the security door by the time a strong grip around his own bound talons pull him up onto his feet. If they could just stop brushing his nub tail with their scratchy uniform pockets... yeah, that would be amazing.
He was alone now, whisked down the corridor opposite of where they had taken the others. Nothing lay ahead of them but concrete and echoes. It stretched on and on, a myriad of small rooms on either side that continued as far he could see.
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