Ian risked another hasty glance inside the room. There were at least two hundred people, mostly human but no race was unrepresented. The closest people to him were sparring with a wide array of martial weapons. Along the back wall, large glass rooms housed mages who were honing their skills with spell books, magical items, and raw components. He’d found where the Harlequin Court trained its fanatics. And in the center of it all was Dakon. The giant of a man was standing on a raised platform with his back to Ian overseeing the sparring match.

Ian’s hand went for his gun as anger flooded through him at the sight of Dakon. When his hand found nothing to grip he was almost glad to be forced back into his senses. He wasn’t entirely convinced he wouldn’t have shot Dakon in the back. He changed his focus to the red-cloaked duo who were fighting.

One of the Red Cloaks scored a hit and wounded his opponent with a vicious looking scimitar. The wounded Red Cloak was none too pleased taking up his bo and striking the offending swordsman. Ian couldn’t hear the bones crunch as the bo came down but the fountain of blood pouring from the swordsman’s nose was telling enough. Now both bloodied, they squared off once more. It was clear the match was no longer a simple sparring match. Even from the door, Ian felt the murderous intent radiating from the pair.

Others, noting the blood and fevered pitch of the fight, stepped away from their matches to form a ring around the two. An uproar of cheers and jeers spread through the crowd. From his platform Dakon crossed his arms over his chest making no move to stop the fight. And Ian welcomed the distraction.

Ignoring the fight Ian leaned in and took in more of the training area. The room could’ve encompassed the Colosseum with space to spare. He spotted a cage in the far-left corner. The front door was hanging open and inside the space was lined with racks of weapons.

He glanced toward the sparring match to find the swordsman had been disarmed, eliciting loud cheers from the spectators. Quickly! Ian’s mind prompted, and he slipped around the corner and made for the armory keeping himself low to the ground and bracing his shoulder into the wall. He kept one eye on the crowd and the other on his goal. The sounds of the crowd yelling masked his rapid footfalls as he all but ran to the cage.

“Show’s Over!” Dakon barked out as Ian slipped into the cage. The sword wielder stood victorious over the corpse of his opponent.

Ian fled deeper into the armory and out of sight. He found a rack of red cloaks and pulled one on. It fit well enough but it made him feel dirty. Next, he grabbed up a sword belt and a dagger and sword to go with it. The weight of the weapons made him feel marginally better but Ian had no clue how to use a sword. He cast another glance around seeking an exit. The sounds of sparring picked up once more and he knew he couldn’t go back out across the gym floor disguised or not.

A tense minute ticked by until Ian found a way out. Behind the last rack, which was stacked with spears, there was a door. He could only hope it led somewhere other than a broom closet. Tugging on the knob he found it locked though that wasn’t going to be a problem. He fished around for his card and brought up against the edge of the locked door. He felt the familiar ‘pop’ and tugged but it didn’t budge.

Ian jerked against the handle as if it had offended his ancestors but it did not give. Okay, don’t panic. He thought about why the door might not open and it had a ‘dur’ moment. He checked and saw a deadbolt still held the door fast.

“Because of course it’s locked,” Ian muttered to himself. He began searching for something to pick the lock with. He’d seen it done, once.

A deafening gong rang in the room.

“Return to your stations! We have word of an imminent attack!” Dakon’s voice roared out as the gong chime faded.

Ian began to frantically search as countless footfalls headed right for the armory. He found a barrel full of throwing darts and snatched one up rushing back to the door. He figured it and the tip of his dagger would have to do. His fingers felt thick as he began working the tip of his blade into the lock. Pushing the dart in next he tilted and turned until he felt a catch or shift in pressure. The seconds ticked by as he worked and the approaching steps were joined by voices that were too close for comfort.

There was a heavy click, and he twisted his jury-rigged lockpick. He had to resist the urge to shout out in triumph as the door opened.

“Who’s back there?!” Someone shouted.

Ian slipped through the door and slammed it closed bracing it with his back. Immediately he felt a body crash against it. He felt around for the lock and twisted it. It would buy him time, but someone was bound to have a key. With nothing nearby to brace the door, with he ran for it dashing across the room towards the first door he spotted and out into another yet hallway. The more Ian explored the more he realized this place was a massive complex. He should’ve expected as much from a shadowy world running organization. It would take more than a handful of people to manage this kind of operation.

Huge stone blocks, the same as the last corridor, made up the walls and floor. Torches flickered in their sconces shedding light on tapestries depicting gruesome scenes; demons devouring souls, men being sacrificed to dragons, and others that made Ian wish he could scrub his brain clean of the sight. He looked away from the macabre displays and sprinted down the hall. He found a four-way intersection and turned left. At the same moment the door into the hall slammed open and heavy, metal-clad, footfalls started in his direction.

“Check everywhere. I want the intruder found!” Dakon shouted.

Ian moved a short distance down the hallway, passing the first door, and used his card to pop open a second. He slipped inside. When the door clicked shut, Ian jerked himself away as an intense heat came from the wood. The door swelled with a red light and the door hissed angrily as he backed away. He’d find another way out.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Hell and a half, is this Frankenstein’s lab? He thought as he took in his new haven.

The front half of the room was illuminated enough for him to see the few furnishings inside the sprawling laboratory. And there was no mistaking it for anything else. Not with all the beakers bubbling, icy blue smoke spilling onto the floor, and little electric sparks coming off various machines. Though what experiments they were conducting Ian didn’t have the faintest idea. A bolt of purple lightning arced between four metallic spires. A metal shaft topped by a sphere formed the core of each spire. Concentric rings ran down and around the central shaft, ending with the largest ring a few inches above the floor.

On a table to Ian’s right, there were dozens of flasks lined up in rows. The various fluids spanned all the colors of the rainbow as they swirled and bubbled inside their containers. A flask towards the center of the table bubbled hard and a reddened eyeball floated to the surface of the blue, viscous liquid. As if the laboratory were making a point to show him how much he really didn’t want to know what was in those potions.

Ian gave the arcing lightning rods a wide berth as he moved deeper into the room. About halfway towards the back of the lab, which was all but engulfed in shadows, the ceiling shot up abruptly. He couldn’t see how high the ceiling stretched and he decided against venturing any further. At any moment he fully expected tendrils or claws to reach out and grab him. He decided he didn’t want to spend a second longer in this place and resumed his search for a way out.

The lightning arced again shedding enough light to expose a door on the far side of the room, through the foreboding darkness. It also gave Ian a glimpse of a massive pair of legs as thick around as a building. Ian craned his neck but the light faded before he saw anymore. From that momentary glimpse, his imagination took hold and played out the worst of his fears skyscraper-sized creatures emerging from the sea to destroy cities and level armies. While his imagination was running away from him, a faint moan came from his left.

“Unghh.”

The ominous sound caused the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He glanced around the lab for the source. It’s alive, his brain chimed in. Quieting his wild imagination, he crossed the room moving towards the sound. While the noise was eerie it was not exactly hostile but he placed a hand on his dagger all the same. As he moved closer, he realized the sound was coming after every arc of lightning.

“Unghhh,” The sound came again.

Ian saw the outline of a creature huddled in the corner. A man. He was propped up against the wall almost coming into focus now. The pathetic wailing tugged at Ian’s compulsion to help those in need. He stretched out his hand reaching for the shape.

Flash.

“No!” Ian cried. With a shaking hand Ian reached into the pouch on his belt rummaging through it and withdrawing his phone. He could not wait for the lightning again. He had to be sure. He turned on the flashlight feature and shined the light into the darkened corner hoping he was wrong.

Chained to the wall was Anders his partner. But the more he looked the more he realized it wasn’t exactly Anders. Not the man that Ian had looked up to, who had been a mentor, and a friend. It was so much more horrible than that.

Where his left arm had been ripped off by the golem, there was now a stub sealed shut with soldered metal. His body was scared all over with bits of metal sticking out from peeled back skin. And his legs were... wrong. One of them was completely twisted around while the other was much too short. His mouth was parted in a horrible grimace with one half hanging open allowing drool to seep out.

The lightning arced again and soon the moaning sound followed. Ian then saw the cables and tubes running from Anders’ back down to the floor and off into unseen parts of the lab. It became apparent that Anders could only breathe each time the lightning struck.

“Anders…? Can you hear me?” Ian whispered.

The vacant eyes of his partner turned ever so slightly or perhaps it was a trick of the light.

“I’m gonna get you out of here,” Ian said dropping his phone and began to look over the pitiable horror that was his friend. Pandora. She can fix him up. She has to.

“Don’t worry, partner,” he said with forced cheer. “I have a new friend; I’ve seen what her magic can do. She’ll be able to fix you up in no time.” He picked up his phone and moved behind Anders examining the cables to see how he might detach them.

“I wouldn’t do that. It’s the only thing keeping him alive I’m afraid,” A calm voice said from the other side of the lab. It was the last voice Ian wanted to hear right now. He turned his head to the source. Ivy stood across the room with his arms clasped behind his back. The man’s face still shrouded in darkness save for that cheshire grin which only fueled Ian’s anger.

“You son-of-a-bitch! What have you done to him!?” Ian shouted while reaching for his gun. In his anger he forgot that he no longer had it. But he did find his recently acquired dagger. He drew it and charged Ivy who made no move to defend himself allowing Ian to sink the blade deep into his chest. Ivy made no outward sign of pain as Ian pushed the dagger to its hilt.

“Feel better?” The smug smile was tangible in Ivy’s voice. Blood began oozing out around the wound staining his robes a darker shade of red. But he didn’t waver.

Ian pulled the dagger out and plunged it in again. There was no sound aside from the rending of flesh, no reaction whatsoever. Ian didn’t care; he wanted to hurt this monster. With Ian’s last stab Ivy fell and Ian fell with him continuing his vengeful attack. The anger welled out of him with a savagery he hadn’t known himself capable of. He straddled Ivy, pinning his arms to the ground and resumed his assault. He continued slashing and stabbing until his arms burned and Ivy moved no more. He abandoned the dagger in the gory mass and returned to Anders.

He stood up, huffing from the effort, and used the robe to wipe the blood from his hands and promptly discarded it. There wasn’t much point in keeping the disguise now. He reached down to pick up his dropped phone and as he did he heard movement behind him. He watched as the dagger slid out from Ivy’s chest on its own. The blade clattered on the floor and Ivy rose like a vampire from a coffin even going so far as to dust off his shoulders.

“Now that we’ve gotten that out of our system perhaps you’ll hear reason. As I said, I would not advise unhooking your friend. That equipment is the only thing keeping him from dying. I did everything in my power to prevent that from happening so it would be quite a waste for you to throw him away now,” Ivy said in a bored manner.

Ian ignored him and pulled out the first of the tubes spilling a clear liquid at his feet.

Ivy sighed and picked up the knife testing its point with a fingertip.

“It’s a good knife," He said with casual detachment then with blinding speed hurled the knife through the air burying it in Ian’s shoulder.

“AHAAAA!!” Ian screamed as pain lanced through his entire arm.

“Well, I did try to be polite,” Ivy spoke calmly over Ian’s pained scream. “So be still and allow me to finally tell you the story. It’s a riveting tale of your friend’s transformation, your grand purpose as a cog in the machine that I have been crafting for centuries, and our inevitable triumph over all who would stand in my way.”

Ivy’s grin pierced through the shadows of his face. It was the unnerving grin of a man completely mad with power.