Of Monsters and Humanity: The Genesis

Chapter 3 - Xander

Seventy-one days before....

"So, how does that feel, Patient X?"

I screamed in agony.

"Alright. We are almost done." His voice was almost drown out by the constant sounds coming from my body.

"Just fucking stop!" I growled, my fingers wrapping around the steel table and sinking into the surface. The metal groaned under my touch. The feeling of breaking something didn't relieve any of the pain, though.

"In a moment," he answered, slightly impatient.

I roared once more before he stopped. The sound of the saw slowed to a stop.

"Nice job, Patient X," he responded, walking hastily out of the room.

I flexed all of the muscles I could and tried to pop out of the restraints, but I couldn't. The sedatives they give me make me so weak, even against the material inside the steel of the surgical table. A cold sweat started on my skin as I twitched, writing in pain. I bit down hard on my lip and controlled my anger, wanting so badly to tell him that I would kill him and tear out of the encasement just to do so, but I knew that I couldn't. I had to think of my people. I had to think of my family and the human race. I had to stay there, let them do what they wanted, keep hushed about my species, and wait to die. It was what I would do and that was what I had always done. This is for the human race and their safety....

That's when I felt it. My stub. They cut off my whole foot this time, and not even that, half of my leg, too. I stared up in horror and watched as the remaining members of the team hovered over me for a few minutes and then exited the room. The large, metal door closed and locked, leaving me alone in the one place in the world that I hated the most.

The "Operation and Experimentation Room" is what they call it. I call it Hell. It was about thirty feet high and fifty feet wide, maybe more. It was filled with all different kinds of lights and machines. White, sterile cabinets filled with an array of different tools lined the white walls. The floor was white, too, this marble-like material with drains surrounding the large operating table in the middle of the room.

There were no windows, only artificial lights. It was the same as every other place they've taken me since my capture. I couldn't remember the last time I saw the outside world. More than anything in the entire universe, I wanted to see a tree. Grass. The sky, oh Gods, the sky. I wanted to smell the air and feel the breeze on my skin. I'd give anything to be back with my family. I wanted to go home.

I took deep breaths and held back everything I could to not cry. Never once had I shown weakness and it was the only thing that I prided myself on. There were cameras on every corner watching my every move. There was nothing that I could do without them seeing and writing down on a clipboard. Everything that I did was recorded. Everything that happened was written down. But for the most part, what they wanted was to see how my body worked. They wanted to test all these different diseases and illnesses on me to see how my body reacted. I'm not quite sure if they want to be able to produce something similar to my body chemistry to help humans or if they just like chopping me up at this point.

So far, I've been chopped up, mutilated, beaten, shocked, and injected with so many different things that I wouldn't be able to recall if someone asked me. And it's not just that there were so many things that I couldn't possibly remember them all, but that I've been sedated so much that everything seemed fuzzy. Blurred together. Like it was the same day being lived over and over. An endless cycle. A broken record. I was stuck in a Hell cycle.

Everyday, I woke up by getting shot with tranqs, then being dragged to the elevator and up a few flights to Hell, get shot again, get thrown back in my hole, and once I'm almost out of the haze, the crane came and dropped off dinner.