CHAPTER THIRTY

HARRY GROWLS WARNINGLY AT a guard who tugs his chains a bit too roughly. The guard's face pales, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat with each of his nervous swallows. The doctor had left them moments ago, stating he had somewhere very important to be, and Harry didn't particularly care to dwell on it too much. The doctor's idea of "very important" were psychologically screwed up events he enjoyed to witness.

However, when they passed a certain room down the hallway of the hover, Harry stopped dead in his tracks.

Barely any vanilla detectable, but he would recognize her scent regardless.

Evelyn is here.

His wrath became more than a fire igniting in his core; no, this is an icy, dangerous calm that chilled his blood and hardened his stare. Every other thought flies out of his head with the revelation of her presence. Having an opportunity for a clean escape barely seems to matter now. No, the first chance he gets... May the universe help anyone caught near him.

The guards did not lead him off the hover as he once assumed. Instead, they turned into a room with a steel door, unlike the others. A torture chamber on a hover that was once used for transportation hardly seemed fitting, but it's none surprising. He does not fight when they pull his arms above his head and attach him to the ceiling. He does not fight when they shackle his ankles to the floor.

Since he's already shirtless from his dispute with the doctor earlier, one guard wastes no time in cracking the whip off to the side behind him. A taunt of the pain to come. Harry grits his teeth, clenches his fists around the chains above his head. He will let them revel in their arrogance, their smugness. Then he will crumble their egos bit by pathetic bit.

"Doc ordered something a little more vicious than usual," a haughty guard remarks, standing just out of his reach. He cracks a grin. "What's the point of branding and whipping when you can do both at once?"

Harry doesn't allow a reaction to rise, but his mind is muddled with confusion. It is then that the fire is lit, and the blades on the tip of the whip are set in the flames. Harry stifles his horror the best he can, but he can't stop his face from blanching. One of the two is agonizing on its own, but this? Only the insane could conjure such a traumatizing punishment.

He has to act soon. He refuses to endure the scorching lashes. He refuses.

Subtly, he tests the chains above him, pulling on them gently. Credit to the doctor's profound arrogance, he'd gifted the only man capable of escaping such bindings. The fool is too pompous for his own good. Even when Harry had been disobeying then, he still operated on him again. What a terribly ignorant decision.

He'd been made to escape anything. He'd been made so there would be no chains strong enough to subdue him. He'd been made for destruction, for invincibility, for power. He'd been made to be untouchable, unstoppable.

Perhaps it's about time he fully embraced those qualities.

He listens to the four of them, their footsteps and quick breaths. Two seem nervous while the other two appear as cold-blooded as the doctor, thriving off other's pain. The blades are still in the crackling fire, undeniably as hot as the sun by now. He tests the chains around his ankles quietly. He stifles his smile. They're even weaker than the ones on his wrists. This will be far, far too easy. Immobilizing them will be a fast task.

He wishes he could say the same about finding Evelyn.

He can track her scent with minimum trouble, the only real issue being that it's faint and mixed with a hundred others. Then breaking her out may be a hassle depending on where she is and why, exactly, the doctor took her. He doesn't care how difficult the ordeal is, though. He'll bring every single person down in this entire ship if he has to, to get her out safely. He'll be damned if he lets her stay here in that bastard's grasp any longer.

This isn't the most ideal opportunity, but it's an opportunity nonetheless. He'll simply have to make the most of it, no mistakes.

"Shall we start on your back, or your torso first?" the sadistic one heating the whip asks, a smirk on his ugly face.

"The back is too easy," the other sadist remarks. "He's used to that by now."

"Indeed he is."

One of the more hesitant experiments says timidly, "Doctor gave us specific orders--"

"Doctor isn't here," the first snaps. "If you can't handle it, get out 7080."

The meek one falls silent again.

The first brings the whip out of the fire, the blades glowing a bright orange. He cracks the whip again to instill fear. Harry doesn't so much as flinch, making the experiment bark a harsh laugh. "Think you're so tough, huh? You've got a rude awakening coming, my friend."

Harry speaks, putting his plan in motion. "You've no idea what I've been through."

He snorts. "Like you're the only one."

"You would be curled in a ball crying if you were me."

"You think so?" The experiment is gradually becoming agitated, desperate to defend his enormous ego.

Exactly as Harry wants.

"Oh, I know so." Harry keeps his eyes ahead, a chuckle escaping him. "Tough looks don't make a tough soul. You'd break in an instant."

He scoffs. "What makes you so sure? You have no idea who I am."

"It's easy enough to guess. You're a coward," Harry says, finally looking over at him with his own mocking grin. "You're already weak considering you're working for a man who can barely look at himself in the mirror. You're spineless, pathetic. Each and every one of you are spoiled brats, doing anything and everything for a warm bed and food on the table. You kiss someone else's ass just so he won't disown you. That's the most cowardice attitude one could possibly have."

Harry's throat is hoarse by the time he finishes. He can't remember the last time he drank anything. He's prepared to continue, to rile them up more, but the twat is already enraged and stomping over to him. Truly, it's too easy to get under an egotistical brute's skin.

The experiment stops in front of Harry, knuckles white as they grip the hilt of the whip, his dark red eyes glaring into Harry's. Harry smiles to piss him off more.

It works. He punches Harry in the jaw, but Harry has been hit much harder and keeps a smile on his face.

The experiment jabs a finger into his bare chest. "Think you know everything, do you? It's not all fun and rainbows like you seem so inclined to believe. We do what we need to survive, just like every other damn person in the world. Don't try to act above us."

"Tell me," Harry says in a low voice, one he used to use during the war that blanched prisoners' faces. "When was the last time you did something for yourself?"

The experiment snorts, rolling his eyes.

"When was the last time you went to sleep with a clear conscience?"

The experiment clenches his jaw.

Harry clicks his tongue. "I've been enduring this life a lot longer than you. In fact, I was the first to be created. The first to be punished, the first to be forced to take an innocent life, the first to believe I was fighting for the greater good. I was the first coward."

"Boo-hoo, you want to throw yourself a pity party?"

Harry smirks, a bit sadly. "You're really far up his ass, aren't you?"

Fed up with Harry's talking, the guard raises his hand to bring the whip down, but Harry has been anticipating this moment. He yanks hard on the chains, snapping them from the ceiling. He wraps the slack chain between the manacles to wrap around the experiment's throat, then, faster than the experiment can process, he loops the chain and slices. The experiment's head detaches from his shoulders with the force of Harry's attack.

He doesn't waste a moment as the head rolls to one of the more sensitive experiment's feet. The experiment pales, but Harry is already breaking the chains from the floor, freeing his feet. The first experiment to bounce into action is the other bloodthirsty one, baring his teeth at Harry like a feral animal. Harry channels all the evil within him, letting that caged beast tame him for the briefest of moments to get him out of here.

For Evelyn.

Harry growls warningly, giving the experiment a chance to back down. He doesn't, an arrogant fool's choice. He lunges at Harry, but Harry steps aside and grips the back of his neck, digging his nails in deep. He yanks back the experiment's head, grinning at the fear now shining in his eyes. He tears into his throat with his teeth, ripping the flesh so viciously the experiment bleeds out almost instantly.

Harry lets the blood drip from his chin as he stares down the last two. One is running for the door, shouting, and the other is in shock, still staring down at the head that rests at his feet. Harry grabs a metal pipe, used to stab to inflict pain, but hold in the skin to keep the blood clotted. He hesitates only a second before launching it at the fleeing experiment, the pipe flying so fast, it has enough force to pierce the back of the experiment's head and go straight between his eyes. Harry ignores the flicker of remorse that churns his stomach.

He turns to the final experiment just as the pale man looks up--and turns impossibly paler.

"P-please--"

"I'm going to walk out of here, and you are going to say nothing," Harry says firmly, eyes boring into the fragile man. "You can stay here and await your own punishment for letting me escape, or you can take your chance to leave as well."

The experiment blinks at him. 7080, Harry believes is his label. "I-I can't f-fight like you a-and I wouldn't..."

"I'll get you off this ship," Harry promises, "if you help me find someone."

7080 blinks. "Who?"

Harry contemplates if he should really be helping this frail thing, but he needs to get out of here swiftly. What better way than to have someone who knows the directions?

"Her name is Evelyn," Harry says. "You have all of three seconds to decide, or I'm leaving you here."

"I'm coming," the experiment says immediately. "And I know where she is."

***

Evelyn doesn't know how much time has passed when Tristan finally stands, signaling her to do the same. It takes a great amount of strength for her legs to move, and Tristan offers a hand to help her up. She'd stopped crying some time ago, but it hadn't made her feel any better anyways. The blood on the floor has dried, the boy's body losing color with every passing minute. Evelyn keeps her eyes a fair distance away.

She follows Tristan silently out the door, duly noting that there's no one else in the hallway. They take a flight of stairs down to the lobby. Staff is bustling around, carrying things in from the hover and situating the area. Some pass Evelyn glances mixed between curiosity and pity. She doesn't have the strength to scowl or glare in return.

Tristan takes a breath, opening his mouth to speak. He hesitates, then says quietly, "The doctor wants to meet with you in his office aboard the hover since everyone has moved out of it. He wants it to be just you and him."

She doesn't have the strength to care or bite a snarky remark.

She hardly has the strength to continue breathing.

Tristan acts as if he wants to say more, but thinks better of it and goes quiet again.

Evelyn subconsciously monitors the area around them, but doesn't spare any actual thought of it. She feels numb and cold and heartless.

Evil. She feels exceptionally evil.

Once they are aboard the hover again, she leans against the cool metal wall for a moment or so. Tristan does not comment on it, does not usher her onwards. He lets her close her eyes and take a few deep breaths. She wills herself not to cry again, though she feels drained, she knows she could cry for hours more. She swallows, a lump still large in her throat.

She sighs through her nose, bracing herself as she pushes off the wall. Tristan starts walking again and she follows reluctantly. She'll rip the bastard's throat out with her bare hands. She'll beat his face bloody until her knuckles grow raw. She'll kill him, she will.

Suddenly, Tristan stops, nearly making Evelyn run into him. She tries to conjure alertness, but her troubled mind could honestly care less about a threat being near. She'd left her daggers in the room, a small comfort of mind, like she'd been leaving bits of the evil inside her behind. She's still wearing the suit, still has the dried blood on her hands.

Tristan's eyes narrow as he listens. "Running footsteps," he says softly to her. "No one but the doctor should even be onboard."

She has the urge to lay on the floor and let the incoming feet trample her.

Tristan glances to either of his sides, undoubtedly trying to think of a place to hide. However, there's nothing but the walls of the corridor enclosing them. He curses under his breath and settles into a defense position, gripping the hilt of his own dagger. Evelyn stands carelessly at his side, though he tries to push her behind him. Death is the least of her worries as of now. She would most likely welcome it were it to come to that.

She can hear the footsteps now. Two people, it seems, running but trying to remain stealthy all the same. If she hadn't trained herself to hear oncoming attacks, perhaps she wouldn't have heard them at all. She cast her gaze to the floor, closing her eyes. She snaps them immediately back open when her bloodied hand at the boy's throat flashes before her. She presses a hand to her aching chest.

The footsteps skid to a halt, probably having seen the two of them. She doesn't have the desire to fight back, or care about what her killers look like.

But then Tristan gasps.

It's a quiet sound, nearly inaudible, but it's enough to get Evelyn to look up.

A gasp of her own almost flees her lips.

"Harry," she whispers, her chest unbearably tight.

She hesitates in case he may be in one of those episodes, but then he takes a step towards her, his eyes wide, and that's all she needs to run for him. She can't remember the last time she'd ever been so desperate to hold someone. Maybe she never has.

She slams into him, and if he were a normal person, the impact would've caused him to stumble. But he doesn't move an inch as she wraps her arms around his neck, his own arms going around her waist. She realizes in the midst of his warmth that she's never hugged him before. Why had she waited so long?

He pulls back sooner than she'd like, but she realizes why he had the moment she sees his face with blood gradually drying around his mouth. He looks away from her as she stares at it, but she cups his face gently and brings his head down to rest their foreheads together.

Harry's nose brushes hers as he whispers, "I'm sorry."

Those two words could've been said for anything, could've meant nothing, and yet they somehow mean everything. The wall she'd slowly been rebuilding crumbles in an instant. Her tears begin to fall again, the ones she'd fought so hard against. Harry doesn't say anything else as she rests her cheek against his chest, his head settling on top of hers. He holds her tighter, his hands rubbing her back.

It isn't when she lifts her face to dry her tears that she notices he's shirtless. Her cheeks flush despite herself, but she's more intrigued than embarrassed.

"What happened?" she asks, pulling back to look at him.

A muscle in his jaw twitches. "I was to be punished for my disobedience. I was going to let it happen and play along until I had a clean opportunity, but then... I caught your scent. So I made an opportunity to find you before..." He stops himself, not needing to bring up the old man responsible for all of this pain. "What happened to you? What did he do?"

She can't bring herself to explain the most recent event so she simply says, "He healed me. Apparently that's all he could do, though, because I was so weak and one step away from death. He called this suit a 'gift' and that it was for tests."

Harry's eyes grow dangerously dark, the murderous red she knows all too well. She glances over at the other experiment with him, changing the subject. "Who's this?"

Harry knows what she's doing, but he answers nonetheless. "7080. He promised to help me find you if I spared him." Harry nods his head over Evelyn's shoulder. "And him?"

"Tristan," she says. "He's basically the only reason I haven't lost it and killed everyone."

Harry studies him a moment longer, then turns back to Evelyn. He still hasn't let her go. "I thought Micah was to be looking after you. That was our deal."

Evelyn frowns. "I don't really remember that day, to tell you the truth. He'd better be watching after Robbie or else he better stay very far away from me."

Tristan clears his throat. "I hate to interrupt, but if you two are going to escape, it'd had better be now. The doctor will come looking for Evelyn soon if she doesn't show up for their meeting."

"As tempting as it is to run in there and break his neck, I agree," Evelyn says. "We should get going."

The experiment with Harry shyly steps forward. "Where, exactly, are we going?"

Harry shrugs. "Anywhere but here."

Evelyn reluctantly steps out of Harry's arms and turns to Tristan. "Please come with us," she says. "I can't let you stay here with him."

Tristan offers a sad smile. "I'll be all right, Evelyn. I've suffered with him long enough, I can suffer a little longer."

"Tristan... he'll kill you when he founds out we both escaped."

Tristan purses his lips. He doesn't need to reply with words.

"You want to kill him first," Harry remarks, eyebrows furrowed. "As much as I want to do the same, I don't think that's particularly wise."

"He stole someone from me," Tristan whispers. "If I can't avenge him, at least I can see him again in death."

Evelyn wants to scream at his stupidity, but she understands his cool wrath. So she bites her tongue and gives him a hug instead of a lecture. He's startled at first, but hugs her back tightly. "Be careful," she says in his ear, stepping back. "I don't intend for this to be the last time I see you."

His eyes twinkle, a strange glint with his red irises. "You're much too hopeful, Evelyn."

She looks him over with soft eyes, feeling as if a weight had been placed on her chest and it steadily got heavier. "Someone has to be."