Angel Prototype

Cassandra watched the writhing body with growing nervousness. Her sweaty hands clutched her cold metal clipboard, leaving dark, wet splotches on her papers. Gritting her teeth, she turned her head away from the now screaming human, trying to regain her cool.

The human bucked and cried out brokenly, voice breaking halfway through the scream from pain, twisting inside its metal restraints. The metal enforced cords connected to the restraints buckled all over his body stretched and sent out vibrations with the effort of holding the body. Already blood was welling from under the leather, splattering the white washed floor beneath him. Again he screamed, eyes rolling back in his head, bile running down his chin.

Cassandra crossed and uncrossed her legs, suddenly finding the room too hot. Her straying eyes found the last needle sitting beside its fellow, innocent on the chilling metal table. She swallowed slowly, remembering how much will power it had taken to administer the first needle. He's only a boy. Sixteen and young, with his whole life ahead of him. Who are we to take that from him? If only this program was started later, after he was admitted to the hospital. It was pure coincidence. They needed a young human with a high fever, one that could kill someone if their homeostasis was destroyed. They needed someone like that to do the experiment. They found one.

He was sixteen years old. A high-school student with a future.

She remembered the feeling of the needle puncturing his skin, the slight resistance than the give of the skin underneath the point. Pushing the poison through the syringe. Cassandra shuddered, feeling needles run down her back as he screamed again. She wrapped her arms around herself and ground her teeth together.

An order was an order. She fought to keep hold of that illogical reasoning as he started to cry.

His body moved sporadically and jerkily, trying to vomit. Dry heaves racked his entire body; bile ran down his chin thickly, dripping onto the floor. Tears coursed down his pale, drawn cheeks. His skin was turning a dry blue and his lips cracked and bled, bile running pink.

An order was – an order was…

Cassandra almost whimpered as the next shriek came. It made her skin crawl.

She checked her watched, staring blankly at the polished glass and metal wrapped around her wrist. It was time to inject the last needle. I don't know if I can do this, she thought hazily, moving her eyes slowly to the needle lying on the table. Just lying there. Waiting.

Innocently.

Swallowing the sudden bile in her mouth, Cassandra picked up the needle, surprised at how easily it fit into her hand. She was meant to do this. Yes, an order was an order. Cassandra stood shakily, clip board falling to the floor with a clang.

The body of the young man was shuddering now, chest heaving. If she didn't act now and give him the injection, he would die for certain. The previous injection had destroyed the homeostasis of his body and allowed his fever to rise to unbelievable temperatures. Under that heat his cells began to breakdown, or "denaturize", and loose all their genetic makeup. The second injection would warp the DNA and genetics, so the body would stabilize again. Cassandra wasn't certain what the second injection would bring to the young boy, but she knew that without the injection he would surely die.

Cassandra fell to her knees by his neck and grabbed his sweat slicked hair plastered to his skin and twisted his head back to expose the skin. Slowly, she pierced his neck and let the serum flow through the needle point into his jugular vein, just showing through the pale layer of skin.

Shakily, not knowing what would happen, she stood and tottered backwards away from him. He lay still for countless minuets, breath rasping in and out, eyes wide, cracked lips dripping blood onto the polished floor.

When it happened, it was almost too fast to catch. He let out an ear-piercing keen and arched his back. The skin split open down his spine and blood slopped onto the floor in warm waves, rolling towards Cassandra's feet. She screamed herself and ran to the door, pulling frantically on the doorknob.

Locked.

Another shriek of ear-splitting pain reverberated around the enclosed room, bringing a whimper from Cassandra. As if drawn to the boy, her eyes snapped over her shoulder to the body writhing in its own blood. Hideous red muscle was growing from his back, flopping wetly in his blood. The muscle thrashed, smearing blood against his paling flesh. The surface was meshed with capillaries, and, as the new appendages flapped, they burst, showering blood everywhere.

And everything went still.

The last breath shuddered out of his body and the restraints swung loosely on his body.

Cassandra slid to the floor, tears welling up in her eyes, mouth working wetly; blood slid down her skin from where the droplets had splattered. Suddenly the urge to vomit overwhelmed her and she barely had time to move her head to the side before she was throwing up. When she could get control of herself she swallowed and let out a soft sob, averting her eyes from her mess. They fell on the boy's body, wet growths of muscle lying in the open lacerations along his spine.

Cassandra crawled forward, tears falling noiselessly down her cheeks. The floor was drenched in blood and soaked into her clothes and stained her skin as she crawled to his side. Her voice still wouldn't work properly, so she sat there in the puddle of blood, sobbing and sobbing.

Wings, they were wings.

Cassandra let out a quivering breath and touched one of the wings, feeling the muscle bend under her fingers. It was real. This was real.

Oh, dear God.