Shadowkissed (A Hemlock Grove fan fiction)

more deadly fun at the white tower

It's a Tuesday. Lately all of Roman's days have been running together, becoming a seamless torrent of nothingness that he's forced to endure out of honorary purposes. Tuesdays, however, are exceptionally horrible, because this is the one day out of the week where Roman has to sit through a full hour of Dr. Johann Pryce's updates about what experiment ate its own limb in a fit of delirium (a failure) and which experiments killed off their companions in a controlled setting (a success, somehow). But this Tuesday is different, supposedly. It's the day Pryce is supposed to reveal the experiment that "will change everything".

Roman has yet to be convinced.

Two homeless men, ragged and wild-eyed, crouch like tigers about to pounce, moments from facing off in a containment room. There is a wall of one-way plexi-glass that separates them from the rest of the world, on which Roman is sitting the opposite of, watching the two men take turns writhing and tearing at themselves and each other with nail-bitten fingers. Their backs arch back and forth as if to the beat of some silent sound, their eyes bulging wider and wider with every movement. Johann nods conspiratorially every so often, as these were considered encouraging results, and murmurs "You'd better be getting that" to one of his young interns from the local university, who is furiously scribbling God only knows what on a yellow notepad.

Suddenly Patient One, a balding man with severe arthritis and what looked to Roman like scoliosis, jumps forward with a bloodthirsty howl and attacks Patient Two, a significantly younger but weaker man, who lets out a horrible scream that makes even Roman's eye twitch twice in discomfort. He falls to the ground twitching, then abruptly stops and stays still. It scared even me, Roman thinks to himself with a bit of wonder. Now that's fucked up.

Pryce sighs and calls, "Give Patient One the tranquility serum and send him on his way. We have all the data needed for today's collection." The proctor obeys, beckoning toward the other waiting room. It takes two bulky security guards to pin the homeless man down by the arms while the proctor pushes a long syringe filled with an orange liquid into the bulging vein in his neck. After a moment, he gives a long sigh and falls still.

And it's over. Done. But the fear still resonates in Roman's veins. He hasn't felt this human in a long time. The sensation is oddly thrilling.

"Beautiful," Pryce breathes. "Just beautiful. This is going to mean great things, I tell you. Parker, gather your materials and run them to diagnostics. Then have one of the new interns from the morgue come collect those remains and bring them back to 2301."

Roman is perched on a chair, his fingers spread across his chin. When he does it, people think he's engaged in the activity, that he actually gives a fuck. Like most things about him lately, it's just an illusion. "Might I inquire as to where you've been getting these subjects, Dr. Pryce?" he asks evenly as the two guards carry the motionless body out of the room, bearing mind to keep his temper in check. He has been at the end of Johann's anger once, and he isn't interested in testing its limit again anytime soon.

"They are the dregs of society, Roman. We take no one who has family, or with any friends who may ask around for them. No one who will be missed."

It seems impossible for this to be true. Everyone has a story, and everyone has at least someone who would care if they simply disappear off the face of the earth. Everyone is missed by someone. "Right, whatever. But what are you trying to accomplish with this?"

Pryce stares blankly as if Roman is a child not understanding something very simple. "It's not what I want so much as what the company does. We are going to make the perfect killer," he says slowly, enunciating every syllable.

It shouldn't surprise Roman. Pryce is a monster himself, with his fervor for orchids, the thing that lives in Room 2301 that no one will tell Roman about, his superior strength, and none of which has ever been much of a secret. But even though it shouldn't surprise him, it still does. "Savage," Roman mutters under his breath.