Primal Gambit

Chapter 64: A New Caged Beast

The halls of Marcotte were never-ending. Grated floors beneath their feet led to forgotten sewage tunnels that had not been cleansed in years. The exhibits seemed cold and unforgiving. Leaves and vines shook with the nightly chill. Open areas gave way for light snowfall interspersed with ash that suffocated the pores of the captives unable to seek shelter. Aside from the soft caress of wind that coursed through the tunnel, only their footsteps echoed.

In deep rooms at far corners of the compound underground, dull screams could be heard. They were the voices of the voiceless – the cries of those men and women who had been robbed the ability to speak. Vocabularies had been whittled down to a series of squawks, cackles, and roars. Shuke was all too familiar with the sounds – he could recall the days where his voice had begun to dwindle. Now his footsteps were louder than his words. It was a feeling of defeat that had overcome him. Gazing toward the ground, he watched his wrapped feet smack against the cold metal floor.

When the group came upon the nearest paddock they watched as Darwin stepped ahead of the rest and turned his back to them. Down he stared, lost in the pits that the wealthy would soon be coming to visit. Construction was to take place the following week, the canopy of the gargantuan willows that previously obstructed view was to be shredded into wilted lettuce. All the inhabitants of the Inner City would have the opportunity to see the newest attraction being introduced into the pit. The puppeteer could see it already – images in his mind clearer than day. He did not turn his head when he began to speak:

"You, Vikhr, are the icon of a new era. The wealthy no longer pay to see the same thing over and over. In a world where violence rules, Marcotte needs to move to show these people what they only see on newsfeeds and headlines. It's only natural for an organization to mold with the changing times. You're going to be that manifestation," he sneered, "Vikhr will no longer exist as a human being, but rather, a symbol for an evolving society." No one could see the grin that masked his face.

Vikhr looked beyond the serpent and into the vast expanse laid out within the exhibit. Vines and leaves from the tallest trees danced delicately, the depths of the jungle floor hidden by the walls and arched razor wire. Distant howls resounded from within, the Siberian unable to fathom both what was happening down there and the idea that he would soon be living among whatever was.

"Come here, Vikhr." He waved the bound man to his side. A prod in his kidney by the mercenary behind him forced the Siberian forward. Shackles jangled by his ankles across the floor as he stumbled to Darwin's side. There the two overlooked the paddock in its entirety.

"What do you see in there?" The mastermind prodded for emotion. Darwin wanted to feel what was going through Vikhr's mind, to garner some sort of twisted amusement from the Siberian's reaction.

"I see...trees – trees that do not belong here, do not belong anywhere. Our plaguing of the planet ran these types to extinction long ago. Through the foliage and the branches, all the way down to the jungle floor, I see the ghosts of men. The men who have been detained and have died within these walls. Their numbers run high – you probably have them on charts in some archive underneath this place. To them, they are more than that; to you, they are just that – numbers." Vikhr looked down. He could not understand why he so readily accepted defeat.

"Keen observations, foreigner. Tell me," he leaned in closer, whispering into Vikhr's ear, "Do you see yourself?"

The captive could feel the hot and dewy breath as it misted against his thick, scarred neck. Without turning to face the sharp teeth of his captor, he spoke:

"Not yet. I only see you."

Darwin harrumphed before anyone else heard what the Siberian detainee had said. The words left Vikhr's maw with stealth, laced with venom. For a moment the looming mastermind gagged on his own breath. He laughed it off with a sneer, and before anyone in the party could comment on the true fear that had just shown itself to the light, he was issuing the command for them to carry on.

The group reached the underground by way of the service elevator. Fixed eyes of the Siberian could not help wondering if it were the very same chute he had used in his mission to Marcotte during the weeks prior. Once belittled details seemed ever-important to him now. Perhaps his fixation on understanding his surroundings was due to the idea that he would not be a free man for much longer. He could feel the seconds passing as he observed everything around him. Long creaks haunted their descent, unspoken words lingering in their minds.

As the doors opened to the immense, putrid labyrinth, Darwin growled:

"One of you take the professor to my office and wait for me there. As for you," he pointed to the mercenary that stood just behind Vikhr, "let's escort our prize to the fitting room." With a gluttonous smile, he waved his hand for them to follow.

The contractor behind the Siberian was a grim looking warrior who seemed as though he had seen every war for the last century. A face cracked with wrinkles and scars, sunken eyes that only responded to commands, and a hanging jawline all translated into the idea that this man consumed his life in one act: business. He pushed Vikhr forward violently as they moved on. Air gusted through forgotten ventilation shafts, transporting the same cloud of oxygenized air from one section of the underground to the next.

The underworld was both muggy and heavy, laden with a pollution much different than that of the surface. It was as though a large group of people had breathed the same air and their rank breath was what flowed from room to room on the same unwavering schedule. Even Vikhr's rough hide was left sticky and uncomfortable by the anomaly. They moved on through the stagnant, still air toward the fitting rooms.

When the door slid open and the three moved inside they were met by the muffled screams of a captive strapped to a metal gurney and the eerie otherworldly music from the tablet amongst the tools that had been left scattered over the table. A man in a white coat cleaned a needle before turning around, the tails of his lab coat swaying round.

"Conley." Darwin rasped.

"Darwin, just in time to see my latest work." Conley murmured in heinous joy.

Vikhr looked to the table to see an emaciated man, skin leathered from years of exposure to ashfall. His eyes were sunken deep into his head, cheeks deflated and jaw locked into place by metal fixtures. The cracked lips of his mouth were sewn shut moments before, the fresh sinew glistening with dampness from both perspiration and blood. His limbs squirmed beneath the chains like those of a provoked creature unable to lash out. He would soon face his entrance into the exhibit, which would bring more pain than anything he had yet to experience.

"I've got a special one for you. He needs the whole nine: tag-tat, tracking implant, sinew. Do it all. We can't lose track of this one." Darwin muttered, already anxious to leave the repugnant room.

No one liked venturing into Conley's quarters. It always proved to be a harrowing experience.

"My, my, my. Look at this. Where did you find such a specimen? He's nothing like what the raiders ordinarily bring me." Conley's eyes lit up behind his thick frames.

"I'm leaving him with you. Take extra-special care of him – he's soon going to be worth a lot more than any of the other wretches we have, I promise you that." Darwin turned to leave, listening to the low flicker of the flame Conley used to heat up his assortment of needles.

"I'll be as gentle as a mother with her offspring, Darwin. Ever-careful." When the doctor grinned, it seemed as though there were too many fangs in his mouth.

Vikhr looked upon the table he would soon be strapped down to. It was happening and there was nothing he could do. Had he killed the two men left in the room with him, there would be twenty more outside the door before he was granted the opportunity to escape. With a deep sigh he looked toward the mad doctor, his limbs frozen in place by sheer terror.

He had rarely experienced fear, though now it seemed as though the two were old friends.