High Society: The tales from Victory

Alpha Of Alphas [Part I] (Chapter 19)

"Well well look at you." The woman clad in a red lab coat proclaimed, leaning against a counter. Her figure was lean, fit from personally dealing with the experiments. By the manner of her touching the counter, he could tell her left arm was mechanical, most likely lost in some experiment or her self found necessity. Her face was scarred and bandaged, bloodied by his hands, but she didn't care. Pain was only a stimulant produced by the body to tell them when they are in danger. Despite the aggressive nature of her subject, she didn't consider any of this as dangerous. She considered herself the predator in this situation. This... this was fun.

She walked forth, and stared down the naked male before her. She took a scalpel and used it to raise his chin, cutting into his rough skin. Two violent red pupils looked back into her soul, irises engaged with pure wrath. His teeth were replaced with fangs, a fearful sight to many.

His hands and feet struggle to break the bond he is in. His fingertips ended with razor sharp claws. His body glistened in a layer of sweat. It dripped from his face, down his pecs, and down past his thighs. His muscles strained against the confines, posing to be a fierce opponent. Yet the scientist didn't do anything to prevent his attempts; Instead, she watched in amusement. She practically licked her lips, which were carved into a pride stricken grin.

"Cast a thousand sins, haven't you? You're more a of a lycanroc truly, but I think you're all bark and no bite, I mean look at you." Her voice carried a tone of mockery, belittling, degradation. Then her eyes narrowed, something personal whelming up inside her.

"Why do the good die and the bad live? I cannot forgive this cosmic injustice, I will ensure the good outlive the evil. Just as it should."

She pressed her scalpel into his throat, puncturing and allowing blood to drip down his torso. His torso suffered frostbite, scorch marks and blisters. Despite how robust and strong he seemed, he could only feel emasculated by the devil before him. She moved her hand away from her subject as she could notice his jaw move in a humanized manner.

"You... are... no... dei... ty... stop... play... ing... God..." His voice a deep raspy mess. Clear signs of internal pain were evident as he spoke each syllable. Like rhythmic torture.

"Who, pray tell, will try to stop me?" She asked, with genuine intrigue. Her voice muffled by the end of her sentence.

He looked up and stared into her eyes. Yet, he was greeted with a gas-mask, not unlike those used of the plague era. She raised bottle up to his face and sprayed him.

He began to thrash and howl, she watched with intrigue as the gas began to burn where it touched his skin. He cried out in severe agony and hell sent pain. Seeping below the visible and striking where it hurt the most. Impossibly, he could feel the veins in his body gave way and split, blood leaking from within his own body.

Throughout grit teeth and each yelp of agony he growled, "I... will... stop... you..."

"You and what army?"

He gave a grin as his blackened hair fell to obscure his face. Gritty and as concealing as he was as a person, scars revoked from public view. She smiled, but it eventually fell when he pulled back his reactions.

She leaned in and raised his chin, and in a melodically whisper, "Some say my work is wrong, wicked, but their thoughts are flawed, afflicted with Giratina's desires. Stuck in the moment, this human desires prevails, but our own social structures forced us against the path towards science and immortality."

"You... mad... wo... man." He glanced up, a strike of fear in his eyes."

"Don't look at me with those eyes you got. It's simple, I'll redeem you by taking your life, to save my daughter. I'll sacrifice the institution, everything my mentor taught me. That way she'll forgive my sins, wherever she is."