Destined: 2 Be Continued

17. TG and His Plot

Silas awoke in a small, dark place. He was strapped to a table, which was tilted at a forty-five degree angle. He looked around, but could see nothing. He checked the straps that held him to the table, and sure enough: they were made of Starsilk, which was made for negating Destined abilities. Strangely, though, they had no effect on Harbingers. Silas sat in silence for a while, re-enacting the last episode of that TV show he watched, until he heard the sound of a door closing to his left, and saw the sight of lights turning on above him. He looked to the left to see who had just entered the room.

"Good evening, Mr. Fitch," a Latino lady, dressed in a pharmacist's uniform, said to him as she walked toward the table.  Silas, not liking people who called him "Mr. Fitch," refused to answer. "I see you're going to be like that, aren't you?" the Latino pharmacist lady continued. She sighed lightly, but did nothing about it. Then she took a large needle and impaled Silas in the chest with it.

"MOTHER OF PEARL!" Silas cried out, using a swear he had seen in one of his favorite books. Usually, if he felt pain like a giant needle impaling him in the chest, lightning would have shot from everywhere in his entire body, and everyone within one hundred meters would have been electrocuted. However, the Starsilk held him and his powers fast. He could do nothing about the insane amount of pain. "Do you do that to all your patients?" he asked(rather rudely, by Jeremiah's standards). The lady simply snickered, which annoyed Silas greatly. 

"Alright, we're going to wheel you over to our leader. We'd appreciate it if you remained calm," she continued, then detached the Starsilk from the table. The cuffs were still on his wrists, but he was now able to walk...until he fell flat on his face.

"It seems I don't have my legs," Silas remarked, looking down at his legs. They were still there, but they weren't receiving his commands. Two men came from corners of the room that Silas hadn't noticed and helped him into a wheelchair.

"Yes, we were afraid of such a thing," the lady said as the two men pushed him towards the door on the right. "Your limbs aren't healed from when you got knocked out. The amount of tranquilizer it took to knock you out would have killed ten normal people, so there was the probability of your limbs failing. The probability, as it seems, came true." The lady sounded as if she knew what she was talking about, so Silas chose not to argue. Through the door on Silas' right was a long hallway. It looked very scientific--pure white walls and silver doors on the other end. The men continued to push Silas, bringing him through the hallway.

They reached the silver door, and the lady held one of them open, letting the men with Silas and his wheelchair through and walking in behind them. The room after the hallway was not as scientific as the hallway. No, it was more Call of Cthulhu than Grey's Anatomy. The floor alone was covered with carvings that one would see in an Egyptian history documentary, with soft green lights gently pouring out. The walls were lined with statues, figures that Silas couldn't make out.

On the far wall was the worst thing, however. There was a throne that reached the ceiling, a great feat for a throne. It was ornately decorated, a baroque sort of thing, one could say. Like all the rock in the room, it was black with soft green light flowing from its cracks. On the throne, however, was something familiar to Silas.

"Good evening, Castle," TG drawled, his strange voice rolling through Silas' ears. Silas gulped, then tried to stand up. He really didn't want to talk to his former master while sitting down. Luckily, his legs had recovered by now, so he was able to get on his feet.

"Evening, Sir...TG," he answered. TG seemed reasonably miffed.

"Why doesn't anyone know my actual name?" he ranted. "I have to give them my initials instead. Can't you hear me when I say my name is--" As TG said his name, Silas felt his own head vibrate intensely. He had no idea what TG just said.

"I still didn't hear you," he told his former master. TG growled and hit the arm of his throne. He then seemed to relax, and he stood up.

Silas couldn't see any of him-- he was covered by a mask and cowl. His name was disguised, his face was disguised, even his voice was most likely fake. It didn't sound real by Silas' standards. His eyes glowed an ugly light green, staring into Silas' soul whenever they looked into his eyes. 

"I have something I need you to do," TG stated. Silas politely waited for TG to continue. TG, of course, continued, appreciating Silas' politeness. 

"I need you to destroy the Destined once more. They are getting dangerously close to foiling Locust's plans, and that is something I can not accept."

"But, Sir, I don't believe you understand. I'm not your Harbinger anymore," Silas tried to explain, but TG cut him off.

"Oh, oh...Oh, you will be. I have a simple machine that will charge you with Impervium and give you my power, the power that all desire. Then, you will bend to my will and destroy those meddlesome pests."

"I thought Locust was a pest," Silas joked, his nerves frozen cold.

"In the plotting sense, not the biological sense, you fool!" TG scolded, then cried out a "GAH!" TG said "GAH!" a lot. 

TG commanded that the men take Silas over to the Harbinger Room. The men took Silas by the shoulders and began to drag him over back to where he came. They led him through a few hallways before they found a room with a single tube, meant to fit a human, and many buttons, wires, and other science-y objects.

Silas recognized Impervium and TG's Meta-dust, the two components used to make a friendly neighborhood Silas Fitch into the evil, unstoppable-except-for-that-time-two-years-ago Castle. Silas, with no other available action, gulped.

The men threw him into the tube and strapped him inside. The lady gave him a smug look before they closed the door.

The transformation would begin in just a few moments.