I have awakened again and Zuri is gone. I knew they were removing her from the room, but where she has been hauled off to and what they are doing with her is troubling me. I distinctly remember the large feline man saying something about "Stratum 4" and the "Conditioning course". I don't know what that last part is, but the worrying has left me super anxious and manic.

I'm itching all over and it is killing me that I can't scratch myself right now. My sweating has resumed and refuses to cease, so my body is completely drenched in warm and sticky perspiration. This always happens when I'm faced with a variable situation. I do better when I'm dealing with constants, as they are readily determinant and immutable. I really fuckin' detest anything I can't control or predict, as all inclinations towards volatility just devour me whole. If I knew what to expect, I could be better prepared.

I mean, that's all anyone ever asks for in life, right? We just want to know what lies ahead. But alas, life wouldn't be life without the impetuous and unheralded. If everything was mapped out from the get-go, our existence would be extremely dull. Still, that doesn't stop me from yearning to have complete autonomy over what occurs.

Is it blasphemous that I desire to control my fate?

Is it weak of me to despise the reality of how insignificant we are in this vast universe?

Am I to just grin and bear it because those are the breaks?

Why do we have to accept that things are the way that they are?

Why can't we revolt against nature? Is it really that sacrosanct?

Sorry, I got a little carried away. I'm quite aware that my choice of words is markedly different, but this is what happens when I'm under duress. I believe I told you that already, but I can't recall due to the drugs pumped in my system. Regardless, this is me feeling the pressure of stress.

It pushes my brain into a mode that I have no idea what to call. All I know is that the true nerd inside me comes out in spades, shining like the sun on a treasure trove of gems. This is yet another one of those moments where I wish I had control over my powers because I would like to break free.

I have been struggling since I woke up, but to no avail. During such, I noticed that the strange pterodactyl-looking creature remains perched, continuing to gaze upon me with menace. I imagine that even though its beak is shut, it is salivating at the thought of tearing me apart. That kind of thought is nowhere near comforting for me.

One of my powers has activated on its own though and I'm now hearing footsteps heading this way. Heavy footsteps, but not in a marching manner. No, I surmise that this is their regular way of walking, I'm just unable to discern whether they are male or female. Whoever it is though, they aren't in a hurry, that's for sure.

The footsteps increase in volume as the individual draws near, along with a dry, squeaky noise and a slight rattling of objects. Probably keys. My best guess is this is a janitor, as that noise sounds a lot like the wheels on the carts ours use at school. I have dreaded that sound ever since I hid in the bathroom for three periods one week in March of 2018, a decision which reflected poorly on my academics that semester.

My father still isn't finished chewing me out over it.

The person is very close now. They've grabbed the doorknob and turned it, only to realize it is locked. No need to fret (for them anyway) for they have those keys close by. They fiddle with them nervously, as each key they try fails to work, until they get to the seventh or eighth key. I really don't know to be honest though, as I lost count at the second key, too anxious to pay it any mind. Anyway, I hear the mechanism inside of the door click, unlocking it. The door, perhaps in need of oil, squeaks extremely loud. A long, drawn out creaking to be precise, exactly like the door in a haunted house or some slasher flick. Finally, the individual walks in and I learn that my initial guess is correct: it is indeed a janitor. A male janitor for the record.

He's not tall, but he is very rotund. From where I'm laying, I can see that he has stubby legs. It's like someone put full-size arms and a fat-ass head on top of Kirby or some other spherical blob, then placed that on top of two giant hamhocks. The hamhocks were given dark brown, well-worn and dingy work boots. I'm convinced no feet could be inside of those shoes though, which is probably why he walks so slow. And did I mention that he's human? Yeah, definitely human, or at the very least, has the appearance of us. Truthfully, he could just be in disguise like Mrs. Bludwart. Wouldn't surprise me one bit.

He collects the trash in the room without paying me any mind, but stops to remove something from the left pocket of his coveralls. It looks like some kind of pastry, partially wrapped in saran wrap and foil. He tosses it at the perched creature and it darts out quick to devour the snack, plastic and all. With a quick whistle from him, it lands on his shoulder and he tickles it on the chin, causing the creature to caw in an almost whispered tone. It is happy from the looks of it, no longer menacing and hungry.

"Now, who be's a pretty girl?" he asks in a thick, Southern accent, still tickling the beast. It caws louder, answering his question with enthusiasm. He finishes playing with i– er… her… then signals for the creature to return where she was perched. Blowing a kiss, he bids her farewell. "Next time I come, I reckon I'll have much more for ya'. Stay sweet, muh li'l Trixie."

(Crying Geehosophat, that thing actually has a name?!)

He begins to leave the room, but stops suddenly, almost like he has forgotten something. Turning around, he plods in my direction, amping my anxiety. I shudder violently, but it's probably hard to tell since I'm strapped in so tight. Actually, the shuddering may just be in my head, but I'm scared to death regardless.

He comes closer, almost at the foot of the bed. I try to jerk myself free, but the attempt is futile. I'm at his mercy, it would seem, especially since I'm unable to access any of my powers. I mean, I can never access them on my own anyway, so just ignore that since I've said it before.

Sorry, I repeat myself when I'm under pressure, but you've probably forgotten that tidbit since the last time, so please accept and appreciate the refresher. With all of that being said, my main point is this: such a dilemma couldn't have come at a worse time.

(Why can't I break free?! I need to save myself?!)

He's next to me now, but ignoring my presence still.

"Helloooooo!" I call to him, but he continues to pay me no mind. I'm yelling right in his ear, but he obviously doesn't hear a thing. It's like I'm mute and invis—wait a minute—he can't see or hear me?! What the fuck, yo?!

He bends over and reaches for something beside the bed. I can't see it, but from the noise I hear, it sounds like a waste basket. In a room similar to a jungle though, I'm kinda surprised there are receptacles for trash. Then again, garbage is extremely harmful for the environment, even if that environment is a simulated one.

"Eh… now what in tarnation is this?" the janitor questions, receptacle still in hand. Something next to my bed has piqued his interest, and now I'm dying to know what it is. I hate waiting because this curiosity is poison ivy for my brain, and I can't get the itching soothed fast enough. Eventually, he figures out what he's been looking at then says, "Shit, them sciency folks always leavin' they dang devices on. They gon' have a high 'lectric bill 'round here. A fancy facility like this'un pro'lly has woan [one] higher than muh 'lesterol."

(Well, at least he's self-aware that he's a walking tub of diabetes, hypertension and lard…)

He bends over a bit more, which causes him to tilt towards me, getting dangerously close. So close, in fact, that I can smell every piece of trash he's collected today. Why oh why did my heightened olfactory senses activate at this time?!

Although he was initially straining to reach whatever it may be, I suddenly hear a click and a sigh of satisfaction, followed by some strange noises.

BLUUUUUP! FWIP! FWIP! FWIP!

Above me, a multicolored array of lights flashes and illuminates a domed grid that has slowly begun to collapse. The cubes drop precipitously, sounding pretty similar to the GameCube start-up sound in reverse and heavily modulated, revealing (to both mine and his surprise) that I had been cloaked this whole time.

"Wh- wh- what in tarnation?!" he gasps, jumping out of his skin. Well, he didn't actually jump out of it, like, his skin peeled off of his face and neck like a slice of liver cheese, leaving a swollen head of veins and muscle standing before me. Which, just as I suspected, reveals him as not being human.

His peeled-off skin reverses, folding in on itself as it extends and morphs into a hovering, diminutive figure with an even larger head and what I can only assume are glasses. It leans forward, examining me very carefully, before asking in a lordly, nasally voice, "Who exactly might you be, young man?"

I'm taking a minute to reply, because while I am a huge fan of horror films and all manner of things most would find gross, I find it very difficult to keep from vomiting at the sight of his slimy and exposed head. The hovering flesh-person— who's also pretty slimy due to a orange, diaphonous coating that's part of his transformation— didn't freak me out as much though, which is weird.

I guess it's the sight of exposed muscles that really made my stomach go wild. I'm also hungry, so there's that. Seeing shit like that on an empty stomach isn't good. Anyway, the flesh-person is still pretty gnarly looking, but I can deal. I am keeping what little food I had this morning down. Can't go spewing chunks everywhere.

"I… uh… am… uh… my name's Dexter? Yeah… uh… yeah, it's Dexter. Dexter Seagrave," I answer, chuckling nervously. I almost forgot my own name.

Eventually the binds, which have been keeping me strapped to the titanium bed this whole time, unlatch. I'm finally free! In a hurry, I remove the burdensome device from my head, rip the IV from my neck, then snatch off all of the pads stuck to my arms and chest. And, just like with a super adhesive bandaid, those pads hurt like a bitch once I removed them, leaving dark gray marks on me.

I examine myself just to make sure I haven't missed anything, then search the bed for my shirt. To my surprise, they put it in a cabinet located at the foot of it. It's dirty and wrinkled as shit, which will spell trouble for me once I get home, but it's whatever right now. I put it on and return my attention to the janitor and the mini-meatman spawned from him.

"Yo, my guy, thank you!" I exclaim as I place my hands into a praying position and bow. "Like, obviously you didn't know I was here, but regardless, I would've been held against my will all night if it wasn't for you!"

Although I was grossed out by him before, I'm ecstatic to be free, so I'm over it. I know that was a pretty quick turnaround, but I can't waste time just because my stomach's churning in disgust. The janitor himself seems to be zoned out or something though, as he doesn't respond, leaving the conversation going forward to be had between me and the mini-meatman. Maybe he can point me in the direction of where Zuri might be so I can rescue her and leave this wretched place.

"You're very welcome, Mr. Seagrave," says the mini-meatman, extending his tiny, slimy hand for me to shake. I can't lie, I'm reluctant as hell to do so, but I oblige him, despite how much it's making my flesh crawl.

(I have a mouth, but I still can't scream! He's like a Cronenberg or Carpenter film come to life. Bllllrrrrbbb!)

After the uncomfortable handshake, the being continues. "I guess it's proper that I introduce myself as well: my name is Pygmeat Pygmalion Sageblood, but the fellow I'm jutting out from like a gargoyle on a ledge is Archibald Beaumont Custer. You can just call him Archie though."

"Well, uh, it is nice to meet you both, Pygmeat and Archie. Um, can Arch even hear me?"

"No, not currently," Pygmeat sighs as he looks back, visibly depressed by he and Archie's situation. "Whenever I take over, he goes to… sleep. Nothing to really worry about, though I can't do much in the way of being helpful once he does."

"Why is that?"

"Well, it's because I don't have full control over the body. The T'Karians put a limiting band on Archie, which in turn restricts me to only moving the legs. Despite not being able to use Archie's arms or turn at the waist, I can make him bend over. I'm beyond flabbergasted and perplexed as to why though. Guess they thought it was funny."

"Okay, I was following you at first. Well, I mean, I still follow you, but I need to ask two questions: where in the world are we and who the heck are the T'Karians?"

"Well, we're aboard a starship currently. A rather large spacecraft known as The Jag, and it's a T'Karian prison vessel, as well as a research facility. The T'Karians are an alien species of humanoid felines that were banished from their home planet, Eukarymora, over a century or two ago, give or take."

"Wait, you said felines?" I scratch my head for a bit until I'm smacked with a lightbulb moment. "Oh snap! Mrs. Bludwart is a T'Karian!"

"I don't know who that is, but if she's a large, bipedal cat, then she fits the bill."

"Heh-heh, yeah, she is. A pretty strong and mean one too. Anyway, tell me more about the T'Karians. I need to know who I'm dealing with here."

"Of course, allow me to continue," Pygmeat clears his throat and adjusts his… glasses? I'm still not sure what they are, but he maneuvered them a bit before continuing. "The T'Karians eventually settled on earth where they plundered resources to help with creating their new home of T'Kari-9, a techno-organic exoplanet and space station. They have also been kidnapping humans and animals for centuries, experimenting on them for many a nefarious end."

"That would explain why Zuri and I were snatched up, though she's been here longer than I have," I note, taking time to think again. A coliseum-sized bag of worms has just been opened before me, and these annelids are all of the Mongolian Death variety. I don't know why the T'Karians chose me, nor what they're doing to Zuri, but I need to find out and stop them. Maybe Pygmeat knows more than he's letting on. It's time to see. "Say, do you happen to have any knowledge of exactly what the T'Karians' experiments involve? Or what they're even for?"

"No, I'm sorry I don't, Mr. Seagrave. I only know the history of our captors and a few things they've done about three years ago. None of their recent goings-on though. Archie and I have been kept in the dark for a long time."

"Wait– our captors? Isn't Archie a janitor?"

"Yes, he is, but it's not because he applied to work here. We were kidnapped years ago. And, if you hadn't figured it out yet, we're not from earth either."

While I had originally wondered if he was an Eclipsed like me, the revelation isn't surprising, especially considering my current situation. This ability of his (or theirs, I'm still not sure whether to address them as separate entities) is unlike anything I've ever seen.

Eclipsed beings have always been an intense focus of mine since my powers developed. I've scoured the internet for everything I could find on them, or should I say, us. That's why I guess that this is as good a time as any to explain that I have a sufficient library of videos captured by citizens from all over the world, as well as leaked security feeds. Anytime an Eclipsed showed up somewhere, be it those who have been active for decades or those whose powers were just developing, I have the footage.

Being an empowered being speaks to me on so many levels, especially as a young Black male. My cousin, Nadia, told me so many stories as a child that I became convinced we were all meant for greatness. Everybody around me scoffed at that thought, said I had my head in the clouds. With my powers developing when they did, I took that as a sign that I wasn't wrong. I still believe we're all destined for better things, and Aves has given me proof of such with the emergence of so many Black superheroes.

This is why I have to gain some kind of mastery over my abilities if I hope to ever make it into a pantheon of protectors like The Safeguards. I cannot stop until it's a reality.

*🌙*

Pygmeat and I carried on our conversation concerning all of which the T'Karians have been up to for at least an hour. Amid the myriad of things we talked about, I learned that he and Archie come from a planet called Agturstonus and are called Agturstoneans. It was a mouthful trying to say the latter one correctly, which gave Pygmeat a good laugh. Won't lie, I laughed too at the fact it took me so long to get it. Think I bit my tongue during one of those attempts.

I was honestly anxious to end the chatter and set out to find Zuri, but I realized I needed more info on them if I have any hope of mounting a rescue. I asked about the intentions of the T'Karians' experiments again, but he still had no answers about what they are doing. However, Pygmeat would eventually allude to experiments that they had tried in the past, reasoning that they're most likely up to the same thing again.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

I rarely look before I leap with anything I do—save for telling Sinead how I truly feel, seeing as I had to muster up the courage and obsess over what the outcome may be—but I can't go out there swinging half-cocked.

Heh-heh… well I'll be damned, would you look at me making moves to save a girl I barely even know but somehow feel strongly connected to. Giving my head a big shake.

On that note, I'll just say that I don't know how, but Zuri made me feel much more at peace than Sinead ever has. Yet, I am still very much in love with that girl, I just don't know where I really stand in her life. It's possible that my obsession with the Safeguards, among other things, have soured her on me. She seems to tune me out when I talk about Eclipsed beings, which is mostly why I'm reluctant to tell her I have powers. It would probably drive a wedge between us, especially knowing that I've kept it from her for so long.

*🌙*

Pygmeat has been going on and on, causing me to tune him out, which means I've probably missed something important. Meh, I guess it can't be helped. I'll just have to get a refresher at a later date. That is, if I can ever get out of here. Time to finally ask the one question I've been holding back on…

"Do you know how to get to Stratum 4?" I inquire, more than ready to get my ass out of here. "If so, do you know how I can get there without facing any resistance? I need to conserve my energy until we reach where they're holding my friend."

"Well, I do know how to get there, but it's probably best you don't attempt to reach it. Especially considering you're aiming to avoid opposition," replies Pygmeat, shuddering.

"Um, I mean, I'm not aiming to completely avoid a fight, just don't want to fight my way to her. You feel me? Besides, I'm sure it's not that bad, is it?"

"Mr. Seagrave, Stratum 4 is heavily guarded by brainwashed captives," Pygmeat sighs, rubbing his misshapen head with his tiny hands. "They are some of the baddest criminals in the galaxy and have been manipulated into serving the T'Karians. Someone of your size and age would do best to heed my warning. They will rip you to shreds and use your tongue to shine their boots. Or talons, as some don't wear footwear."

"With all due respect: I don't give a damn, Pygmeat," I retaliate in the nicest way possible. I tried hard not to show any anger, but ended up gritting my teeth in disgust. Full disclosure? I am quite upset and unnerved by what he said, but being apprehensive and seething won't do me any favors. I have to just brush off being underestimated. "While I am taking what you said into account, I have to save this young lady and whoever else may be trapped on this godforsaken ship. We don't deserve to be here."

Pygmeat rubs his head again. His expression is joyless. Eh, I don't even know how I can tell he's making any kind of face, but I can feel the anguish. He's despairing right now. Junko Enoshima would love this.

"Look, Dexter— wait, do you mind if I call you that?"

"Sure. Actually, I prefer it. Mr. Seagrave is my dad's name anyway. Heh-heh…," No time for jokes, but I could not hold that one in. HA!

"Well, Dexter, I don't want you to die. I'd be beside myself with grief if anything grave were to happen. While we haven't known each other long, I consider you a friend. Our chit-chat has been a highlight for me as it gets dreadfully lonely on this old ship. I try and talk to Archie at times, but he doesn't understand me very well. Such is life for Agturstoneans though."

I can feel myself starting to tear up, but I can't proceed with waterworks just yet. There's work to be done. Still, I've managed to make two new friends within twenty-four hours, or sixteen hours. Wait, I hope it hasn't been that long — my father will kill me if I don't die here first!

"Look, Pygmeat, I'm stronger than I appear to be. Defensively and offensively. That's something I know for a fact. I tell you what though, you show me how to get there and once I rescue Zuri and free whoever else is on that floor, I'll come back for you. Sound good?"

"Sounds excellent!" Pygmeat exclaims, suddenly enthusiastic. "I do have a bit of a suggestion though. Well, more like a request."

"What is it?"

"Take me with you now!" he belts out. He subsequently begins to grovel, which is making me feel a bit awkward to put it mildly.

I mean, let's keep it a hunned: can you say you wouldn't feel taken aback if a dwarven mound of flesh started flailing around like an inflatable tubeman and begging to accompany you? Would you not freak out despite having interacted with it previously? No? You sure? Okay, I guess it's just me and the lack of food in my belly then. I swear, once this is all over with, I'm grabbing some pizza.

I pray I live to taste some double-stuffed, extra pepperoni pizza from Mama Pastorelli's again!

*🌙*

Pygmeat is still begging, demonstrating that he does indeed have control over Archie's waist and legs as he has now come closer to me. Bending over, he starts tugging at my pant legs with what little grip he has in those babydoll-sized hands. Some of the slime they're coated in has come off on my trousers, prompting me to finally put an end to his pleading.

"Okay, okay! You can come! Just please stop staining my pants up!" I grouse, lamenting the mess being made on my Dockers. I doubt this shit will come out in the wash. Fuck my life. "My shirt is already messed up, my pops will definitely rip me in half over these khakis!"

"Yes, yes, yes!" he rejoices, pulling himself away. He tries to wipe the stains from my pants, but only makes them worse. "I'm so sorry about that!"

"Eh, it's okay. I'm just glad you're happy," I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck. "but I need you to get your head in the game. You're confident you know your way around this ship, right?"

"Of course I am! I've only been here for a little over ten years."

"TEN YEARS?!"

"Yes, ten. Well, ten years and seven months. However, it feels like centuries sometimes."

"I can only imagine. That's a pretty long time."

"Indeed it is. Anyway, our best bet would be to go through the HVAC ducts. They're sturdy enough to hold us both, but I must warn you that the fans inside are extremely powerful, so if you get caught in the path of one, you'll be blown apart. This is an intricately designed ventilation system timed to activate every seven minutes."

"Wait, they don't continuously run?" I inquire, subtly shivering. I'm hoping Pygmeat can't sense the hesitation that has washed over me just now. I was all riled up about ten seconds ago, ready to take charge and push forward, but uncertainty is suddenly looming above like a hellish awning.

This definitely isn't the time to be quaking in my big-ass shoes. I have lives to save.

"No, they don't, but that's a good thing!" he excitedly declares in a sing-song voice, bouncing from side to side. "See, if these fans were to run continuously, they would pull a lot of power, which would eventually make the ship fall out of orbit, crashing into the earth below. And we don't need that kind of disaster on our hands."

"No, we don't…," I nod agreeingly, still pretty hesitant. I'm mentally going over all of the details presented to me right now. That last piece of information just gave me what I feel may be the greatest idea, but I can't tell it to Pygmeat. Not yet, at least. I need some time to work out the kinks.

"Glad you understand, Dexter! Now, the timed activation will slow our progress a bit, but it's nothing too significant, just a matter of patience. Think you can handle that?"

"Oh yeah, of course…"

Despite the answer I just gave, I'm noticing my palms are slowly becoming soaked with perspiration and I've started itching all over again, worse than when I was strapped to that bed. Furthermore, my mouth and throat are dry, while my stomach feels like a maelstrom of nervousness.

I refuse to scratch myself even though I can. I don't know if Pygmeat would figure it's because of my anxiety, but I'd rather not give him any indication.

You know what? This is fuckin' ridiculous. I can't keep letting fear rule me like this. I've been afraid for too long in my life. I mean, I'm only seventeen, but all seventeen years I've been breathing have been fraught with anguish and trepidation.

I know what I said earlier, you don't have to remind me. I maintain that I have never been the type to look before I leap, but I'd like to add that being fearful is precisely why I don't. If I spend too much time thinking about what's the worse that could happen, nothing will ever get accomplished.

So yeah, I let the fear of failure (as well as embarrassment) push me to be impulsive and do things I—more often than not—regret. However, I won't regret going out on a limb to free Zuri and anybody else that has been captured.

Truthfully, I don't want to be blown apart by these fans, especially considering I don't know how to activate my powers on cue. Then again, the way my body is………? Nah, best not to risk it.

I truly hope another option becomes available.

"I need to know though, Pygmeat, will they be able to hear us inside of those ducts?" I ask, trying to regain my cool and grasp on this situation. "'Cause taking our time to get there won't mean a thing if we get caught."

"Well, that's precisely why I mentioned 'patience', Dexter. Being careful and waiting once the fans turn on will keep us from being discovered. Likewise, if a fan activates once we've passed it, we can use the distraction its noise will provide to put some pep in our… urm… crawl."

"I see. Well, I guess it's settled then. Let's get a move on," I start to walk away, then it occurs to me that we will definitely find ourselves caught trying to get in the ducts as we are, so a diversion or an unguarded route to a vent is desperately needed.

It would be nice if there was a vent in this room, but I don't see one so far. However, there's also too much vegetation to tell, so one may be up top, just hidden by all the exotic greenery. The more I look around, the more preoccupied I become with the eventuality of my allergies activating.

"Okay, I just realized I forgot to ask you where the nearest vent is? That should've been my first inquiry once this idea came up, but I became a bit sidetracked by something you said."

"And what was that?" asks Pygmeat, appearing simultaneously concerned and stymied.

"It's nothing really, just me overthinking things like I always do," I chuckle. "It's a gift and a curse that I often zero in on the minutiae of pretty much everything. Nothing for you to worry about though."

I know that isn't an answer that will suffice for him, but it's all he will get right now. Can't let him know how much he rubbed me the wrong way by underestimating me. I mean, maybe he could already tell from my reply at the time, but I also get the sense that there are specific social cues Pygmeat is unfamiliar with.

I'm no stranger to being counted out and looked at as incapable of holding my own, but that doesn't mean the shit can't get to me. It affects me every single time, and I end up retreating to a space in my mind. A "comfort zone" of sorts. It's the only place I can pick myself up again once I'm knocked down and devoid of confidence.

Pygmeat stands there in silence, analyzing me and what I said. Just as I figured, that reply didn't bode well for him, and he's now visibly uneasy. Throughout our conversation, he has repeatedly rubbed his head, which is something I do a lot. Especially when I'm anxious or alarmed.

Almost on cue, he strokes his misshapen head once more and sighs, "If you say so, Dexter. I do want you to know though that it is totally understandable if you have any peradventures about this entire plan. It is, after all, just you and I up against an entire ship of ancient, extraterrestrial felines and miscellaneous intergalactic criminals. I'd have my reservations as well when the odds are stacked so high."

"Ah, nah—I don't have any," I say, quickly shooting down that sentiment. "Whether I did have any compunction about the efficacy of this mission is neither here nor there. I just want to make sure we get to our destination unseen and undetected. It is imperative that we avoid getting involved in unnecessary scuffles. I don't want to fight until it's actually time. This brings me back to what I originally asked though: where's the nearest vent?"

Before Pygmeat can answer, the door to the room is forcefully swung open, almost knocking it off its hinges.

"That won't be necessary, Mr. Seagrave," a familiar voice chimes in, chuckling.

I shudder and gulp loudly, almost choking on the nugget of air I swallowed when I did as I lament this situation to myself.

What have I gotten myself into?

*🌙*

After trembling for a few minutes I begin to turn around, but very slowly, as I am afraid to look lest I see my imminent doom.

I eventually lay my big, dark-brown eyes on that doctor from earlier, standing in the door way with his arms behind his back and chest puffed out. He has come prepared, flanked by two extremely huge guards that make him look average size and me lilliputian. He's also dressed different, ditching his glasses and the turquoise labcoat for an all-black jumpsuit. The jumpsuit appears to be made of a metallic weave, judging by the light reflecting off of it, which tells me that it's armored and he's more ready for combat than experimentation.

I have to exercise caution right now and not make any moves, so I'm utilizing the time spent quaking in my shoes to analyze the two titans, taking notice of the batons they have in hand, which are made of a carbon-like material embellished with a zig-zag pattern that appears to be on all sides. Emitted from this pattern is a plasma-like energy that floats around the batons, looking similar to the stuff you'd see in a lava lamp. This energy also glows the same color as the cages Zuri and I were in.

Putting all of this together, I'd say these batons have a one-hundred percent chance of harming me and cancelling my abilities, but I'd settle for only weakening them. I mean, I can't risk either option, so I need to do something.

"Look, man, I don't want any trouble," I explain, trying to sound cool and reassuring, but my lips keep quivering. "I just want to know where Zuri is, so I can, um, get her and leave, along with my friend, Pygmeat, over there."

"Ha! Do you really think we'd let you get away that easily, young man?" the doctor scoffs. He starts coming my way, extending both arms as he does. Turning his palms inward, he signals the guards with his fingers, directing the two not to follow. Good thing he did, because they were ready to advance on me. "What kind of place do you think we're running here, Mr. Seagrave? An amusement park?"

I start to laugh, but quickly cut it short, resulting in something that sounds like a derisive snort. That last part definitely wasn't my intention, but on the flipside, showing I'm amused isn't a good response either.

"No, I didn't think that at all. It's just, um, you've got what you wanted, right? What else do you need us for?"

The doctor sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose as his nostrils flare. Finally in front of me, he leans close, staring me down with his pearly, iris-less eyes as he places his giant, hairy palms on my shoulders, gripping them tightly before asking, "Do you have any idea how powerful you are?"

"Well, as I explained to Pygmeat earlier, I'm definitely stronger than I look. However, I have no idea about the levels of my strength. And, to keep it a buck with you, I don't think I want to know."

That was a bold-faced lie. The lie to top all lies! Shit, I definitely want to know, but I don't want to be anybody's weapon. Considering the backstory of the T'Karians, I've deduced that such a goal is exactly where they're heading with these experiments. Can't become a part of the problem.

"That's a pity, Mr. Seagrave," he replies, pausing as he loosens his grip.

It's a relief that he has finally let go, but it feels like I just had the pressure of two titanium blocks removed. I haven't felt that much pain since that truck hit me. Tremendous pain aside, the doctor begins to purr while stroking his whiskers, but it sounds more like a discontented—albeit subtle—growl. He examines me, just like Pygmeat did not too long ago, before finishing his statement.

"There's a universe of power residing deep inside of your cells. Honestly, immense power exists in the cells of all Eclipsed beings, but none like yours! You are simply amazing!

"You see, as a result of the research performed by myself and my colleagues, I learned how to extract this power by thinning the blood and fashioning it into a serum. A serum which I had been failing to perfect before you came along, as none of the prior captives contained even a pint of the energy surging inside you!"

He pokes me dead in the middle of my chest with one of his golden claws as he says that last part.

My mouth is agape and the world feels like it has suddenly stopped. Simply astonished. Having a "universe of power" running through my entire body is startling, to put it mildly. If only I knew how to fully tap into it, I wouldn't have to stand here listening to a lecture about myself and my greatness. Which, I guess isn't completely bad, but this is a villain I'm dealing with here. They'll do anything to coax you to their side.

"Wait a minute, how in the hell did you even figure out my power level?"

"It's all thanks to your Algebra teacher," the doctor grins, displaying his mouthful of large, sharp teeth. "Mrs. Bludwart, as you know her, has the uncanny ability to smell strength. Energy actually. Be it an Eclipsed being like yourself, or someone a bit more magical, she can detect them just by getting a whiff of their scent because empowered beings give off a distinct odor. That little skirmish earlier was just her testing your limits. Trying to push your power to its peak, pretty much."

"Well, she did something, that's for sure. I'm still feeling the effects of that fight. Hope she enjoyed the trouncing I gave her ass though. It was deserved for giving me weekend detention and not actually tutoring me as previously discussed."

"Trouncing? Hahahaha! You were a massive disappointment, Mr. Seagrave!" the doctor roars, throwing his head back. He quickly quells his laughter, but makes a poor attempt at keeping it stifled. "It's pretty pathetic actually, considering your aforementioned power."

"Hey! I resent that remark!"

Yeah, that's all I can say. I look back at Pygmeat, hoping he could back me up in some way, but he's folded himself back inside of Archibald. That explains why he's been so silent. Poor Arch looks scared shitless, so I know he's not going to say a damn thing. What could he say anyway though? He wasn't conscious for anything Pygmeat and I talked about.

With that being said: I have not a single riposte in mind to the slight against me. I mean, I admit that my little super-powered light show didn't do me any favors, buuuuut—and this is a HUGE ONE—I sent her flying through the fuckin' wall! And yeah, she got up from it like I only thumped her, but that was some serious power! Again, if I knew how to manage my strength, I could really put a beatdown on The Wart. Just pummel her ass into a bloody and bruised hairball. Fuck it, enough of this.

"Look, you haven't seen my full strength, sir. Hell, I have yet to see that, but I WILL NOT be laughed at! I'm certain I did some damage!"

"Well, I'm sorry you think that, young man."

"Don't be sorry, just be careful. I'm gonna—AHHHHHHHH!" I'm suddenly hit with a silver spiral of ultrahot energy which knocks me off my feet. Thankfully it wasn't strong enough to send me flying, but it still hurt like a bitch. And looking down, it burned a majority of my shirt. Yep, it's settled—my dad is going to fuckin' kill me. "The fuck was that?!"

"I've had enough of your prattling, Mr. Seagrave!" the doctor rails, his eyes intensely glowing with the same color as the beam that hit me.

(How in the fuck did he do that so quick though? I didn't even see him charge up! Talk about mastery. Yeesh.)

"My aim this entire time was to perform an assessment of my own by provoking you to attack, but it appears I misjudged you. Just look at you now, too chicken to defend yourself, so I don't see how you've figured that you'll be able to rescue your two friends and escape."

"I'm not chicken!"

"Well, prove it to me then! ATTACK ME, BOY!"

His eyes now have wisps coming from them which I assume are made of the same energy he hit me with, but the wisps are more white than silver. He's really fired up now, but my palms are completely clammy and blistered. I can't stop this simultaneous feeling of terror and excitement washing over me. Either Pygmeat left some info out on purpose, or he never knew the T'Karians were capable of things like this. I really hope it's the latter.

(You know what? I did tune him out earlier, so he probably mentioned it. Fuck!)

"I CAN'T!" I declare, my voice bursting forth in an undulating, circular swell which expanded into a wall of golden-brown electricity, rattling the cabinets in the room. It would seem that I internalized the attack from Armored Football-Guy earlier. The one where he caused a shockwave by stomping, because I've never produced a E-Faculty like this before. It may be a result of having holes repeatedly stomped in my chest, as I'm sure he was releasing energy then too.

Disregarding the how or why I was able to use such an ability for now, I'd like to focus on the fact that this vocal shockwave was powerful enough to make the doctor and guards wobble, with the latter almost falling backwards. It also awakened Trixie, who I had honestly forgotten was in here. She was about to cause a ruckus, but Archibald was quick to calm her down, utilizing little effort.

After such a display, the guards are wide-eyed and dumbfounded, clutching their batons extremely tight and holding them close to their chests, like a child would do a teddy bear. They're deathly afraid, and I know this because I can hear their hearts and pulses quickening, sounding like hummingbirds. The doctor though? Well, he's seemingly impressed. He slowly claps his hands, but I raise one of mine (just barely) to tell him to stop. This is no time to celebrate.

"What seems to be the matter, Mr. Seagrave?"

"I……can't……attac……y…" I mutter through the now-bleeding lips of my dry and horribly aching mouth, unable to complete my statement.

"And what, pray tell, do you consider that surge you just unleashed? A hug?!"

I don't answer. Not verbally anyway. My only response is my body sluggishly swaying. It probably looks like I'm barely moving though, something akin to a pendulum inside a jar of molasses. My throat burns and my legs feel awful, just heavy and dead. I want to collapse, but they're determinedly holding up through their own volition. That fuckin' attack nearly drained the life out of me.

"Well? You finally have nothing to say?"

Once more, I do not reply, but my legs finally give out and I fall onto the floor, hitting it hard as I pass out.

>>> TO BE CONTINUED <<<

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