The artificial hum of fluorescent lights in the corridor pierced through the gaps in the ventilation grate, signaling morning—or at least a simulation of it—had arrived in Block 12 of The Monolith. The air inside cell 12-09 still felt heavy, thick with the metallic tang of iron and the remnants of last night's brutality.
On the top bunk, Zerath stirred.
The sound of blankets rasping against hard skin was audible as the hybrid creature stretched. She yawned wide, her split jaw parting slightly to reveal rows of teeth designed to strip flesh from bone. She blinked, her glowing red eyes adjusting to the dim light.
Her stomach felt comfortable. Full. There was a warm, primal satisfaction within her after the unexpected "dinner" last night. Memories of the taste of tender human flesh and warm innards still danced on her tongue.
"Hah..." Zerath exhaled a long breath, thin white steam escaping from between the teeth of her bone mask.
With lazy yet graceful movements akin to a large cat waking from slumber, she peered down at the lower bunk. She expected a familiar sight: remnants of clean-picked bones, a pool of drying blood, and perhaps a few scraps of meat she had saved for breakfast.
However, what greeted her sight was not the remains of a corpse.
The bottom bunk was indeed a mess. The mattress was soaked in dark red blood that was beginning to blacken, and small pieces of organ tissue remained. But there was no body.
"Huh?"
Zerath tilted her head, confused. Her eyes swept the cramped cell. And there, standing in front of the stainless steel sink in the corner, was the figure.
Devon.
He stood with his back to Zerath, shirtless. His pale skin seemed to glow under the dim sink light. His perfectly defined back muscles shifted as he washed his face. A pair of red wings on his head twitched gently, shaking off residual water. He was holding his orange prison shirt under the running tap, casually trying to scrub a massive bloodstain off the chest area as if he were washing out a coffee stain, not the evidence of his own murder.
"Ehhhhhhhhhhh?!"
Zerath's shriek of shock echoed off the metal walls. She leaped down from the top bunk, landing with a heavy yet agile thud on the concrete floor.
Devon turned slowly, his face flat and expressionless, water dripping from his wet black bangs.
"Oh. Morning," Devon greeted briefly, wringing out his prison shirt. "Sleep well?"
"You..." Zerath pointed at Devon with a sharp clawed finger, her voice trembling between confusion and disbelief. "You... are still alive?"
Devon shook out his wet shirt, then calmly put it back on. The damp orange fabric clung to his athletic frame, offering an uncomfortable chill, but he paid it no mind.
"Yeah, as you can see," Devon replied, zipping up his shirt. "Bit cold though, wearing a wet shirt first thing in the morning."
"But... but..." Zerath stepped forward, staring at Devon's chest, now covered by fabric. She remembered distinctly how it felt to tear open that chest cavity, feeling the beating heart in her hand, and chewing on his intestines like noodles. "How is this possible? I ate you! I felt your flesh in my stomach! I crushed your head!"
Devon looked at her with his signature lazy gaze. He leaned his hip against the sink, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Oh, that. Surprising, isn't it?" he said in a tone that sounded like a teacher explaining basic math to a slow student. "Why am I not dead? The answer is simple. Because I can Regen."
"Regen?" Zerath parroted, the word sounding foreign on her monstrous tongue. "What is... Regen?"
"Regeneration," Devon explained, tapping his own temple. "The ability to reconstruct cells, tissues, and organs. In short, I can grow back body parts that are lost or damaged. As long as my core isn't destroyed, I won't die."
Zerath's eyes widened. She processed the information with her predatory logic.
"Ohhhh..." Zerath nodded, as if understanding. "I can do that too. But I need the black fluid from the lab to close my wounds. Or eat a lot of meat. Do you want to see?"
She raised her hand, preparing to tear her own skin to demonstrate the black fluid inside.
"No, thank you," Devon cut in quickly, raising a palm. "It's too early for body horror. Keep your fluids to yourself."
Zerath lowered her hand, but her glowing red eyes now looked at Devon with a different glint. A hungry glint. Not hunger born of anger, but hunger born of opportunism.
"Wait a minute..." Zerath stepped closer, lowering her head until her bone-mask face was level with Devon's. "Regeneration... that means you can keep growing back endlessly?"
"Technically, yes."
"That means..." Zerath grinned, her stitched mouth stretching wide. "...an infinite food supply?"
Thwack!
Devon flicked the forehead of Zerath's bone mask with his index finger. The sound was sharp, like stone hitting stone.
"Hush! Don't be ridiculous," Devon clicked his tongue in annoyance. "I'm not doing that. I am not your personal livestock. You think regeneration doesn't hurt? It feels like your whole body is being twisted and pulled apart. Once was enough for a lifetime, thank you."
Zerath rubbed her forehead—which didn't actually hurt—but she looked a bit disappointed. "Stingy."
"It's not being stingy, it's called human rights," Devon retorted flatly. He sighed deeply, then straightened his posture.
"Alright. Since we failed our first introduction—which ended with you eating my intestines—can we start over properly?"
Devon extended his right hand toward Zerath. His gaze was firm but calm.
"My name is Devon. Prisoner 7734. Nice... to meet you, I guess?"
Zerath stared at the hand. A clean human hand, with long fingers and neat nails. She hesitated for a moment, then snatched the hand with her massive claw. Her grip was strong, rough, and her skin felt cold and slightly scaly.
"Because my old owner called me Zerath... then my name is Zerath," she answered. Her voice had a strange echoing quality, a blend of a woman's voice and a beast's growl.
"Hmm... old owner?" Devon raised an eyebrow, feeling the texture of Zerath's skin. "What happened to him?"
"Hee..." Zerath grinned again, this time more terrifyingly. "I ate him."
"Okay. Good information," Devon commented flatly, not surprised in the least. He released the handshake.
Devon's scientific curiosity began to take over. His fear had long vanished, replaced by an obsessive drive to analyze the anomaly before him. He started walking around Zerath, his eyes scanning the creature from top to bottom like a machine.
"By the way, what are you exactly?" Devon muttered, holding his chin. "From your appearance... body posture, muscle structure, and that fur... you look like a wolf combination." He stopped behind Zerath, looking at her large, pointed ears. "And bat? This ear structure... resembles biological sonar."
Zerath turned her body to follow Devon's movements. "Oh, and human. Don't forget about the human."
"So, a Chimera," Devon concluded. "A combination of wolf, bat, and human. A product of high-level biological experimentation."
"Correct."
Devon crouched slightly. Without hesitation or a shred of fear, he began a physical inspection. Devon's hand touched Zerath's leg.
"Digitigrade structure," Devon murmured, feeling Zerath's calf muscles, hard as steel. "Very efficient for sprinting and jumping." He traced the sharp bone protrusions on Zerath's knee. "Natural armor. Interesting."
Zerath stayed silent, letting this strange human touch her. It felt... unusual. Devon's touch wasn't painful like the scientists' needles, nor rough like the prison guards'. His touch was cold, analytical, yet careful.
Devon stood up again, walking behind Zerath. He held the creature's long tail, lifting it slightly to check the base. "Balance," he said.
Then, with a bravery bordering on stupidity, Devon stepped in front of Zerath. He reached out and slightly lifted the hem of Zerath's tattered prison shirt.
"Hey—" Zerath flinched slightly, but didn't swat him away.
Devon stared at Zerath's stomach. The skin was milky white but adorned with a pattern of black lines spreading like tree roots or cracks in porcelain. Devon placed his palm on the flat, muscular stomach, tracing the black lines with his thumb.
"The texture is different," Devon mumbled, his face very close to Zerath's abdomen. "This isn't a tattoo. It's sub-epidermal pigmentation. Maybe a side effect of the mutation serum? Or a sign of cellular rejection?"
Zerath squirmed, her body tensing. The sensation of Devon's fingers on her stomach felt strange. "Hehehe... that tickles," she chuckled, a sound that resembled a purring engine.
Devon ignored the chuckle. He straightened up, moving to Zerath's arms. He felt the massive biceps, then down to the elbow. "Bone protrusions here too. Offensive weaponry."
He switched to her back. "Extremely wide latissimus dorsi. You must have insane upper body strength."
Then, Devon's gaze shifted to Zerath's chest. Though covered in thick black fur at the top, the shape was clearly feminine. But Devon looked at it not with lust, but with the gaze of a surgeon.
However, as his hand moved to the neck area, Devon's fingers touched something cold and hard.
Metal.
"Hmm?" Devon parted the thick fur on Zerath's neck slightly.
There, circled tightly around the creature's neck, was a thick, futuristic black metal collar. The collar had a small indicator light blinking red in a slow rhythm, and its surface was adorned with finely engraved magical runes.
"A collar?" Devon muttered, his finger tapping the metal lightly. Ting. "This isn't jewelry. This is a Class-A Magitech Restraint Collar. The same kind used by beasts in gladiator arenas."
Zerath snorted, touching the collar with annoyance. "Ugly thing. If I'm naughty, it feels like being struck by lightning. Makes it itch."
"Makes sense," Devon thought. "Even a monster like you needs a leash in a place like this."
Finally, Devon looked at Zerath's face.
"Yeah, even though you're female, your face—or at least this mask—looks masculine," Devon commented honestly. He touched the jaw of the bone mask. "Sharp jawline. A bit like an alpha wolf's face."
Devon's finger traced the vertical black stitch that split Zerath's face from forehead, past the nose, down to the chin. The stitching was crude, as if the face had been split in two and forced back together.
"And these stitches..." Devon stared into Zerath's red eyes. "Try opening your mouth."
Zerath complied. She opened her jaws.
Devon brought his face closer, peering into the dark oral cavity. "Dominant canines. Pure carnivore structure." He looked deeper. "Stick out your tongue."
Zerath stuck out her tongue. The tongue was long, dark red, and looked like a centipede.
"Oh..." Devon touched the tip of Zerath's tongue with his finger. "A long, segmented tongue like a centipede... but soft in texture."
While Devon's finger was still on Zerath's lip, a loud siren suddenly shattered the silence.
BZZZZZZZT! BZZZZZZZT!
The red light on Zerath's neck collar suddenly blinked rapidly, synchronized with the light above the cell door.
Zerath's pupils constricted instantly. Her conditioned instincts took over. She immediately snapped her mouth shut with a violent force.
SNAP!
"Woah!" Devon yanked his hand back at lightning speed. Zerath's teeth clashed just millimeters from his fingertips. "Close one! Were you trying to eat my finger for dessert?"
"Oh, look at this!" Zerath ignored Devon's protest. She stared at the digital clock on the wall in panic, then clutched the collar on her neck which was beginning to heat up. "It's almost time!"
"Huh? Time for what?" asked Devon, confused, still cradling his nearly severed finger.
"Come on, quick! Before we get shocked!"
"Eh? Shocked?!"
Before Devon could ask further, Zerath had already grabbed Devon's arm. With surprising strength, she dragged Devon toward the cell door.
But the door didn't open immediately.
Next to the thick steel door was a black glass panel blinking blue. A Biometric Scanner.
"Place your hand! Quick!" Zerath ordered, slamming her own large, clawed palm onto the left panel.
Devon, still confused, was shoved roughly by Zerath toward the right panel. "E-eh? Here?"
"Yes, Idiot! If we don't scan in 5 seconds, this floor will be electrified!"
"Crazy..." Devon hurriedly pressed his palm against the glass panel.
ZING.
A blue laser beam scanned Devon's palm from top to bottom, then a small red beam scanned his retina.
[PRISONER 7734: VERIFIED.]
[ASSET X9: VERIFIED.]
A robotic female voice sounded from a small speaker. "Synchronization complete. Opening door."
CLANG! HISS...
The thick iron door slid open automatically with a heavy hydraulic hiss.
In the doorway stood Eira. The Elf woman looked fresh and neat in her tight warden uniform. She was inspecting her manicured nails, but when the door opened and she looked up to see Devon standing there—whole, clean, and (relatively) sane—her eyebrows shot up.
"Morning, Devon," Eira greeted, her tone a mix of surprise and amusement. Her eyes swept over Devon's body, searching for scars that weren't there. "You... are still alive?"
Devon shrugged, straightening the collar of his shirt that Zerath had yanked earlier. "Hee... a lot happened last night. We missed the warm introduction session."
Meanwhile, in the outer corridor, chaos reigned. Surveillance drones hovered in the air, and cyborg guards herded other prisoners out of their cells with electric batons.
Eira turned toward Zerath.
"You may go now, Unit X9. Breakfast schedule in Sector B," Eira ordered coldly.
Zerath nodded obediently. She glanced at Devon briefly, a mysterious grin etched on her face as if to say 'see you later, spare food', then she darted off, joining the stream of other monster prisoners, disappearing around the bend of the corridor.
Devon was about to step out, but Eira spread her arms, blocking the way.
"Wait a moment, Sweetie," Eira said with a crooked smile. She reached into her uniform pocket. "Oh right, Devon... I forgot to put on your mandatory 'accessory.'"
She pulled out a thick black metal collar, identical to the one Zerath wore. A Magitech Restraint Collar.
"Eira..." Devon stepped back, looking at the object with a lazy gaze. "That's overkill, isn't it? I'm already inside an underwater prison, guarded by monsters, and the doors use retina scanners. Where am I going to run?"
"Procedure is procedure," Eira said with a dangerous sweetness. "Besides, it looks good on your neck."
With a quick movement, she clasped the cold object around Devon's neck.
CLICK. BEEP.
The collar locked with a heavy mechanical sound, shrinking to fit snugly around Devon's neck. Devon felt his energy flow being slightly suppressed, like a dam closing off part of a river inside his body. It felt tight and uncomfortable.
"Ohhh..." Eira tilted her head, staring at Devon with a strange, adoring gaze. She reached out and patted Devon's head, right between his red wings. "You look like an obedient pet dog now. Very fitting."
Devon swatted Eira's hand away gently, his face flat but his eyes betraying deep annoyance. "Don't push it. I'm not a dog."
"Sure, sure," Eira chuckled. "Now, let's walk. Your orientation schedule is packed."
Devon stepped out of the cell, but then he stopped. A mischievous idea crossed his mind to repay Eira's teasing. He looked back, staring at Eira with an innocent expression.
"By the way, Eira..." Devon said with feigned politeness. "Could you please have my bed cleaned later? There's a little... stain there."
Eira frowned. "Stain?"
She stepped inside the cell and glanced at the bottom bunk.
Her eyes widened.
There, sprawled across the messy mattress, was the scene of a slaughterhouse. A pool of thick blood that hadn't fully dried, scattered pieces of intestine, fragments of leftover meat, and a pungent, metallic stench. It was the remains of Devon's brutal death just hours ago.
Eira stared at the bloody mess, then snapped her head around to look at Devon, who stood in the corridor with iron around his neck.
Devon gave a thin smile, very thin, but full of petty victory.
Eira fell silent for a moment, swallowing hard. She looked back at Devon with a new gaze—a mixture of wariness and a deepening, dangerous curiosity.
"Okay, I'll tell the cleaning crew," Eira said, her voice slightly lower, trying to remain calm even though the sight in the cell shook her logic.
"Alright," Eira said, straightening her posture again and flipping her hair. "Now follow me."
Eira walked ahead, her boots clicking clack-clack-clack on the metal floor. Devon followed her, his hand touching the cold iron collar on his neck, stepping toward his first day in hell, leaving the remains of his own death behind.