The Chosen One •

20

Unknown POV

The air in the lab was cold, sterile, and humming with a faint, unnatural energy. The faint glow of monitors illuminated the dim space, casting eerie shadows on the walls lined with scientific equipment and dark vials filled with swirling liquids. Three men stood in the center of the room, surrounding a restrained rogue wolf strapped to a steel table. The creature snarled weakly, its gray fur matted with sweat, but it lacked the strength to fight against the thick leather straps holding it in place.

The man in the white lab coat adjusted his glasses with an impatient sigh. He was short and wiry, his thin frame barely filling the coat that hung loosely on his shoulders. His sharp, angular face twitched with annoyance as he checked the IV line he had inserted into the rogue's arm, the liquid inside glowing a faint crimson.

"The process is slow," he muttered, his voice clipped and clinical. "Pack bonds make them more resistant to the transformation. They fight it on a molecular level, and it's... tedious. We either need stronger magic or more warlocks to break their will entirely."

The tallest of the three men, standing at 6'2", crossed his arms and leaned casually against the steel table. His presence was as imposing as his piercing, unnatural red eyes that gleamed in the dim light. His pale skin, contrasted against his sharp jawline and chiseled features, hinted at a man of color who had been altered by something dark and unnatural. He smirked, a cruel twist of his lips that revealed just enough fang to unsettle.

"If only that little hybrid story is true," he drawled, his deep voice laced with sarcasm as he glanced sideways at the man sitting in the computer chair.

The seated man, with medium-length locs tied loosely back, gave a low chuckle. His brown skin gleamed under the fluorescent lighting, and his sharp, calculating gaze flickered from brown to blood red before settling back on brown. He leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head with a confidence that matched his sharp-edged smile.

"Maybe if you stopped being so sarcastic, we'd already have her," the man with locs said, his tone dripping with amusement.

The red-eyed man threw his head back and laughed, the sound reverberating off the metal walls. "Oh, don't worry, my friend. The plan is already in motion," he said, pushing off the table and straightening to his full height. "Everything is falling into place, exactly as I designed it."

The scientist, uninterested in their banter, focused on the task at hand. He pressed a few buttons on a nearby console, and the rogue wolf's body jerked as the IV pumped the glowing crimson liquid into its veins. The creature let out a guttural howl, its back arching violently against the restraints. The man in the lab coat didn't flinch.

"It will take a few minutes for the fusion to stabilize," he announced, his tone detached and methodical. "But if it works, we'll have another Bloodfang ready for field testing."

"Bloodfang," the man with locs repeated, testing the word on his tongue. "You really like your melodrama, huh?"

The scientist shot him a glare but said nothing, returning to his meticulous notes.

The red-eyed man grinned, baring his sharp teeth. "Don't mock him. Bloodfang has a nice ring to it."

The rogue on the table let out another guttural cry, its body convulsing as its muscles contorted unnaturally. The fur on its back began to darken, turning black and sleek, and its eyes rolled back before snapping open—glowing crimson, matching the liquid coursing through its veins.

The man with red eyes clapped his hands slowly, his smirk widening. "Beautiful. Simply beautiful."

"It's unstable," the scientist interrupted, his tone irritated. "We'll need to increase the magical infusion if we want it to hold longer in battle. This is why I need more resources—"