GREEN [complete]

CHAPTER 07: Mars

"How are you feeling, C9M?" Jones looked down on him, a clipboard clasped at her front.

Mars swatted his hand at her, struggling to form words. His fingers flicked uselessly against the floor. The pain had faded, but it would take some time before his muscles responded how they were supposed to. It always did, but that didn't make the process any easier.

Jones knelt next to his cage, her clipboard bumping the glass between them. "Later today, I'm giving a tour to future investors." She let her words dangle in the air until Mars gave her another incoherent response. "Thompson will be here shortly to make you feel better."

Mars's eyes rolled toward her. She was even blurrier than usual; no more than a flesh-colored blemish against the white of the lab. Mars blinked once, then let his eyes close again. "... want to ... better," he managed.

"Good." Jones smiled. Her heart kept up its calm rhythm as she stood. "I will see you soon, C9M." With that, she was gone, heels clicking against the floor. She didn't usually wear heels, even for investors. Mars didn't have the energy to wonder what was different this time.

As promised, Thompson arrived a few minutes later. His anticipation and nervousness overwhelmed everything else in the room, even the stink of the mongrel that flanked him. It was one of the ones that was there during the transfer. Mars instinctively tried to move away, but the loose knot his body had fallen into was unyielding.

"I know you don't like me but you need to work with me here," Thompson said.
Mars rattled in response, his lips pulling back just enough to show his fangs.
Thompson dragged a sigh from his thin lips and nodded to the mongrel. He opened the door to Mars's cage with a key code and the mongrel approached, broad shoulders consuming the entirety of the doorway. "You know," Thompson said, drawing a bottle from one of his pockets, "Dylan is going to come back for you."

"No," Mars responded.

Thompson pushed a needle through the top of the bottle, drawing back the stopper. "I made sure they would." The mongrel grabbed Mars under the armpits and heaved him up with a grunt. Mars's head flopped down, chin finding his chest. "You should really be thanking me." Thompson grabbed his chin and lifted his face. He was close enough, Mars could make out the color in his eyes. Bright green. But Mars didn't need to see it to know; he could smell the green on Thompson from across the room. "We need them," he said, "they's the only one in this godforsaken place smart enough to fix this." He pushed the needle into Mars's neck.

Mars felt the change almost instantly. Energy flooded through him; clarity. He sucked in a large breath, tasting everything at once. The exhaustion that had dogged his every movement in the week since the transfer was gone, the only discomfort that remained was the pinch in his side where a bandage stretched over his new liver. Mars pulled out of the knot he'd existed in for the past several days and into a sleek coil.

"Better?" Thompson asked, capping the needle in a tube of disposable plastic and stepping back.

"Yes. Hungry." And Thompson was looking awfully tasty. Mars tested the mongrels grip, leaning closer to the keeper. The mongrel held him face, fingers biting.

Thompson took a precautionary step back, urging Mars to pursue him. He yanked sharply against the mongrel, earning him a low growl. The mongrel's talons sank in and Mars snapped. He whirled around, ripping ten ragged lines through his shoulders as he tore the talons free. His fangs unfolded.

A growl began to build in the mongrel's chest, but it came out a pitiful yelp when Mars struck. His jaw unhooked and he buried his fangs in the mongrel's neck, injecting venom into his system. The mongrel swung his this arms toward Mars, but Mars was already on the other side of the cage, curled in a neat coil and popping his jaw back into place.

The cage had closed with Thompson safely on the other side. He spoke into the comm at his collar. "Yeah, I think they should see this."

"What's happening in there?" Jones's disembodied voice said back, worry pricking her tone.

"We've had a ... uh ... unexpected development." Thompson's tone suggested that it was the last thing from 'unexpected', but Mars scarcely cared. He was hungry and he was going to be fed.

The mongrel took an aggressive step toward Mars, then staggered to the side. Specks of blood dotted his neck. The door across the room opened, and Jones ushered in a company of eager investors. Mars's attention remained fixed on the mongrel—his prey.

The prey tried another step, flashing its sharp, sharp teeth. Mars didn't move. It took another swaying step and its legs gave out. It fell to its hands and knees, clawing at the ground for purchase. It wavered, even on its hands and knees, his venom overwhelming its body.

"Oh," Jones said, "Oh my. That was one of our best assets ..." She held her hand up to her mouth, an exaggerated gesture. Then, she turned to the investors. "You see"—her voice was clear now, devoid of emotion—"C9M's venom disables his victim's nervous system and begins breaking down their tissues, rendering them helpless in a matter of seconds. It is potent enough to disable a full grown man—a full grown mongrel at that."

Murmurs swept through the investors and they inched closer to his cage.
"But," Jones continued, raising her hair, "that is far from the most impressive thing about him." She looked over her shoulder at Mars as his prey collapsed to its belly. Her excitement flickered now, daring to reach out of her control.

Mars ignored them. He lowered himself to the level of his prey, grabbing its hand and elbow. It was too big for him to eat whole, but he had no qualms about eating it piece by piece.

"He was designed to be a weapon, but we—" He yanked, tearing the prey's lower arm off with a wet, ripping noise that interrupted Jones's words. It's chest heaved in an agonized wail and the investors lurched back.

Mars turned his head to look at them as he opened his mouth around the prey's elbow. His jaw unhinged again, popping out of place with a twinge of pain—the kind of pain he could ignore, for now. Fangs flat against the roof of his mouth, the arm went down easy, squeezing through his too-small humanoid throat. The prey's blood painted the front of him.

The investors' horror was matched by their intrigue.

Jones cleared her throat and continued. "We discovered that his particular cell makeup provided another unique advantage that we need your help to replicate." She waited until the investors eyes were on her again. "C9M is immune to the green."