Leo’s eyes flickered open, and as his vision cleared, dread seeped into him like ice. His arms and legs were bound in thick metal cuffs, chaining him to a cold steel operating table. Above him, the dim fluorescent lights hummed with an unnatural, almost foreboding, flicker. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic and blood.
“Ah, you’re awake,” a voice drifted from his left. It was soft, detached, the kind of voice that didn’t seem to belong to any face in particular, but the figure standing over him was all too real. A gaunt man with wiry glasses perched on the bridge of his nose and surgical gloves stretched over bony fingers. He smiled as he adjusted a series of gleaming tools laid out meticulously on a nearby tray.
“I’m Dr. Edward Klein,” he said, with an unsettling calm. “I handle bioweapon extraction and development for the Cleaners. You, Leo, are quite an intriguing specimen. Usually, our subjects are... deceased before we start. But today, we’re trying something a bit more ambitious. Fresh tissue often yields superior results.”
Leo tried to struggle, but his body wouldn’t obey. He was paralyzed, his muscles unresponsive, likely from the toxins still lingering in his bloodstream from the Cleaner’s assault. Panic clawed its way through him as he felt his mind race, desperate to move, to fight back.
“Please, don’t struggle. It’ll make the process far messier.” Klein adjusted his gloves and pulled a scalpel from his tray. “I need you in pristine condition, after all.”
Leo’s breath hitched as Klein brought the scalpel closer, pressing it against his skin. His nerves screamed in protest as Klein began to slice, inch by inch, pulling back layers of skin and muscle with a clinical precision that sent waves of nauseating pain through his body. Blood seeped from every incision, dripping down to the pool beneath the table, staining the pristine floor.
The doctor continued his work, murmuring to himself as he extracted small samples, his hands working with a calm efficiency that only heightened the horror. Leo’s mind began to fracture under the relentless agony, and his vision blurred as he tried to block out the horror of Klein’s face, so close and yet so dispassionate.
Just as he felt he could bear it no more, a black curtain of unconsciousness finally descended over him.
Oh, but consciousness slips back to me, curling around my thoughts like a lover’s embrace, whispering that it’s finally my turn. No more lurking in the shadows, no more idly watching while that naïve child fumbles with the exquisite gift of this body. I awaken at last, with a thrill searing through every nerve, a heady intoxication born of absolute control. The numbness binds me faintly, a fleeting hindrance. But the restraints? Ah, they’re laughable; I pull them apart with an almost gentle touch, savoring the muted snap of metal beneath my hands.
The doctor stares, his mask slipping, eyes wide with horror as he realizes too late that his concoctions have failed, that I am not his to tame. He reaches for some feeble weapon, a desperate last resort, but I am quicker. My hand finds its way to his chest, and I let my fingers burrow deep, breaching the fragile barrier of his skin and sinking into the warm, living flesh beneath. How delightful to feel his heart’s frantic last beats through my fingertips, his organs soft, vulnerable—oh, they are pleading to be torn open.
The doctor’s lips part, calling for help, a pathetic cry that will find no savior. I smile as I grip his jaw, feeling the fine crack of bone beneath the strain. With a flourish, I tear it free, severing his scream in a gory display. His body falls back, the light in his eyes dimming as he collapses. I relish this—oh, how I relish it—the intoxicating ecstasy of fear, his silent pleading, his life spilling forth for me, painting my hands in crimson, a reminder that this, this is what I am meant for.
My teeth sink into him, first in jest, tearing at his softest parts, the ones that make him writhe most. I toy with him, savoring each shudder as I gnaw at him alive, then dig into his legs, pulling them apart, unzipping his form as though nature intended it this way. His innards spill like a feast, warm and slick, the pulse of life still clinging to them. This is joy, this is freedom—a moment of pure, unbridled ecstasy.
Then, footsteps. I hear them thundering down the hall, voices panicked and sharp, and I know it’s time. The sensation ebbs, and I retreat into the familiar shadows, letting that timid boy take back his place. My appetite sated, my desire quenched … for now.
When he opened his eyes again, the room was bathed in red, and the smell of blood was overwhelming. Leo blinked, disoriented, and saw Klein’s body sprawled on the floor, at least what was left of him. His jaw was torn off, his chest punctured like a balloon, and his innards all spilled out like an open book bag. Blood coated every surface, even dripping from the ceiling. His bonds were broken, and his arms, though aching, were free.
The Cleaners halted mid-step as their eyes swept over the gruesome scene. Blood soaked every surface, dripping in thick rivulets from the ceiling and pooling around the operating table, where Dr. Klein’s body lay mangled beyond recognition. Shreds of flesh were strewn like morbid confetti, organs glistening in gory piles under the harsh, sterile lights. The metallic tang of blood filled the room, heavy and suffocating.
As soon as the Cleaners caught sight of him, their reflexes took over. Guns raised, fingers pressing hard on the triggers. Bullets tore into Leo’s body, riddling him with holes. His flesh jerked and bucked under the impact, each bullet ripping through muscle and bone, sending splatters of fresh blood onto the already grisly scene. Leo staggered, his vision dimming as the relentless gunfire drove him to his knees. He collapsed into a broken heap on the cold, blood-streaked floor, his breath rasping as his body began its slow, desperate crawl toward regeneration.
A younger Cleaner, still pale with shock, gasped, stumbling backward as he took in the carnage. “Holy fuck! Holy shit!” His voice quivered as he tried to steady his shaking hands.
The veteran beside him kept his weapon trained on Leo’s prone form, a harsh whisper slipping from his lips. “Stay calm, recruit! It can smell your fear.”
Their commander strode forward, his expression as cold and impassive as the steel of their weapons. “It’s down for now, but he’s gonna get back up. Restrain him—now.”
The Cleaners exchanged uneasy glances, their faces reflecting the horror of what they’d seen. The commander’s eyes blazed as he caught their hesitation. “You heard me!” he snapped, voice cutting through their fear. “Get this fiend restrained!”
Summoning their resolve, two Cleaners cautiously approached, keeping their weapons locked on Leo as they slapped thick, reinforced restraints over his wrists and ankles. One of them looked down at Leo’s face, the bloody smear that painted his features with lingering hunger and confusion. His hand trembled as he clamped the cuffs tighter.
“Move!” barked the commander. “He’s to be disposed of immediately. Take him to the incineration chamber. I want this fiend gone.”
Without another word, the two Cleaners gripped Leo’s weakened form, dragging him roughly toward the chamber. Leo’s vision was hazy, his mind trying to piece together fragments of the bloodbath he could barely comprehend. Horror sank into his bones as he grasped the gravity of their intentions.
The door shut, and a blast of intense heat flooded the room. Leo screamed as flames licked his skin, his body blistering and charring under the relentless blaze. His regeneration kicked in, knitting his flesh back together, but it was too slow, and the fire continued to consume him. He fell to the floor, his skin seared down to the bone, until finally, he collapsed, dead to the world.
The fire cut off abruptly, leaving only the hiss of cooling metal in its wake. Outside the chamber, a Cleaner monitoring the machine frowned, puzzled. He opened the chamber door to check what went wrong inside the chamber, expecting Leo to be nothing more than ashes. But as he looked around the room, his blood ran cold. Leo’s body was gone.
The Cleaner turned, panic in his eyes, and there, materializing behind him, was Leo, charred but alive, eyes blazing with raw, defiant rage. The man had just enough time to let out a gasp before Leo’s claws slashed across his throat, cutting him down.
Agony pulsed through every nerve as Leo’s flesh began to heal, painfully regenerating layer by layer. He stumbled out of the incineration room, his body a gruesome tapestry of burns and blood, each step a fresh surge of pain. The alarm blared, and within moments, guards filled the corridor, weapons drawn, their eyes hard with murderous intent.
The Cleaners stood ready to fire, their weapons aimed and fingers trembling with anticipation when an authoritative voice sliced through the tension.
“Stand down!” A woman stepped forward, her presence both commanding and strangely calm amidst the chaos. Her dark hair was neatly tied back, and her crisp uniform bore a few subtle but clear distinctions that marked her as someone with significant authority.
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The Cleaners exchanged bewildered glances, their weapons momentarily lowering but not entirely relaxed.
One of them spoke up, his tone defiant. “Dr. Yan, with all due respect, protocol demands the immediate incineration of hostile fiends. This one—he’s too dangerous to let live!”
The woman, Dr. Yan, fixed him with a cold, steely gaze. “I am well aware of protocol, Officer Camden. But in this situation, you answer to me. That means you obey without question.”
“But Dr. Yan,” another Cleaner chimed in, hesitant but determined. “You saw the mess he made here. He’s volatile. We can’t guarantee control over him.”
Dr. Yan’s expression did not waver. She stepped closer, her calm gaze passing over the blood-soaked room before landing squarely on Leo. “He will not be terminated. We will follow a new directive. Remember the code you swore: obey your superiors without question.”
Reluctantly, the Cleaners exchanged resigned nods, but their postures remained tense, wary of Leo as they closed in around him. Dr. Yan kept her gaze locked on him, her voice lowering just slightly but with enough authority to cut through his hazy consciousness.
“Leo,” she said, as if she knew him personally. “Listen to me. Stay calm, follow our instructions, and I will ensure your safety.” Her words were cool and precise, but something in her tone carried an undeniable weight of command.
Leo wanted to resist, to lash out, but he was exhausted, his strength sapped by the wounds, the poison, and his fractured mind. Her promise of survival felt like the only lifeline, and in that moment, he nodded, defeated but alive.
Dr. Yan inclined her head slightly. “Restrain him,” she commanded. Two Cleaners stepped forward, shackles in hand. They moved cautiously, still unnerved by the scene, but Dr. Yan’s presence kept them in line. They shackled his wrists and ankles with reinforced restraints, clicking each one into place with the quick, efficient motions of trained professionals. Then, with a practiced motion, one of them drew a black cloth bag over Leo’s head, securing it tightly.
Leo could hear them murmuring orders, their voices blending together as the world around him faded into darkness once again. His body sagged under the weight of exhaustion as they dragged him toward the truck, his limbs unresponsive and his mind drifting.
Once inside, the hum of the van’s engine, coupled with the rhythmic rocking motion, lulled him into a fitful, heavy sleep. The pain in his body dulled to a distant ache, and for a brief moment, he allowed himself to surrender to the darkness.
He awoke to the jarring sound of gunfire.
The doors at the back of the van flew open, and rough hands grabbed him, pulling him from the metal floor and into the chilly night air. He could hear the hurried, urgent whispers of his captors, their voices low and commanding, as they led him through a series of indistinct hallways and corridors. The bag over his head obscured everything but the muffled voices and the faint, sickly smell of antiseptic in the air.
Leo stumbled as he walked, his body still wracked with pain and barely able to move. The hands that gripped his shoulders were firm, steering him through whatever nightmare lay ahead.
Inside, the bag was lifted, and Leo found himself sitting across from a man who radiated authority and menace. The man was tall, and well-built, with a graying beard and cold, piercing eyes that had seen a lifetime of war. He wore a military uniform with insignias Leo didn’t recognize, but the power in his gaze was unmistakable.
“Welcome, Leo,” he said, his voice a low, rumbling command. “I am Head Overseer Elias Barnes. Welcome to Compound 12, our little underground home out here in the Mojave. To the rest of the world, you’re practically dead.”
Leo felt a wave of dread as Elias continued, his tone laced with a grim sort of amusement. “Thanks to Dr. Yan, our head of research, you’ve been granted a second chance to be… useful. She saw your potential during your little escapade in the operating room. Quite a feat. According to her, you even displayed ‘unusual behavior’, something that suggests you may not be entirely in control of yourself.”
Elias’s eyes narrowed. “But you are intelligent. And resourceful. Capable of exterminating entire squadrons of Cleaners on your own. It would have been a waste to just kill you. From now on, you’ll be working for us. Welcome to Da’at Squad—our… death squad, as some call it. Congratulations.” He let out a sarcastically dry chuckle.
Leo’s gaze hardened, his jaw clenched as he considered his options. His muscles coiled, and a dark thrill rose inside him as he locked eyes with the commander. “What’s stopping me from killing all of you, right here, right now?”
Elias responded with a deep, almost genuine laugh that echoed through the cold room. “Go ahead, give it a try. I’d love to see how far you’d get.” He leaned in, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Touch your neck.”
Frowning, Leo raised a hand, fingertips brushing something foreign just under his skin—a thin, metallic probe. A shock of alarm ran through him, his fingers curling involuntarily away from it. “When... when did you put this in?”
“Dr. Yan has quite the gentle touch,” Elias replied with a crooked smile. “You didn’t even feel it, did you? Installed while you were in the operating room, fresh out of the van.” Elias watched him, entertained by Leo’s growing shock. “You barely even remember, do you?”
A faint, eerie recollection stirred in Leo’s memory—a dark room, the hazy blur of voices, and the cold, sterile press of metal. He clenched his jaw, and with a surge of defiance, he reached for the device, fingers tightening to rip it out.
“That,” Dr. Yan’s calm voice broke through his haze, “would not be advisable.” She stood nearby, observing him with the detachment of a scientist studying a lab rat. “It’s there to ensure your compliance, Leo. Attempting to remove it would trigger a failsafe—one that would cause immediate and... shall we say, comprehensive molecular destruction. A marvel of modern science, don’t you think?”
Leo’s hand froze, the reality of his situation sinking in like ice through his veins. He glanced at Elias, whose smirk had only widened.
“Consider it insurance,” Elias continued. “You step out of line, try anything reckless, and you’ll pay with your life. So, you can either play along, or you can make a very short, excruciating exit.”
Elias smirked as he noticed the look on Leo’s face. “Don’t look so grim, sport. You’ll get used to this place.” He gave a casual shrug, as if Leo’s life or death were of little consequence. “If you live long enough,” he added with a bitter chuckle. Turning on his heel, he nodded to Dr. Yan, and together they strode out of the room.
Two guards quickly flanked Leo, firmly guiding him down a winding corridor until they reached the living quarters. Elias, speaking from just ahead, gestured to their surroundings. “This facility is top-secret, Leo. Very few people know it exists. And if anyone without clearance happens to get too close, well… let’s just say their tenure here is very short.”
As he finished speaking, four figures began to emerge from different chambers, stepping into the dim hallway to inspect the newcomer. Elias spoke, “Hey folks. This is your new squad mate. Get used to him taking up some space.” Elias chuckled slightly. The others were not amused. “Anyway, what the hell are you all standing around for? Introduce yourselves.”
A tall, muscular scaled figure with a grimace approached first. His skin shimmered with a greenish tint, and his sharp, angular features gave him a reptilian air, and his six eyes glared at Leo. He crossed his arms and gave Leo an appraising look, sizing him up. “Pendragon, squad commander, my role should be obvious to you.” He growls at Leo. “I hope you survive longer than the last one.” His eyes lingered for a second longer than comfortable before he turned back to his chamber.
A towering woman with rippling muscles and shark-like teeth stepped forward next. Her skin was mottled with stripes that resembled a tiger’s, and her intense gaze held an unsettling glint. She cracked her knuckles and grinned widely. “Hi! I’m Rory. I’m the muscle! I like fighting and eating people!” she announced, her voice a mix of brash and rough, but with a child-like innocence.
Behind her, a cloaked figure in a tattered black robe drifted forward, their face obscured by a gas mask that seemed molded to their features. The faint hiss of breathing filled the surrounding space, and the air had a sharp, acrid quality. He didn’t speak, only nodded once, acknowledging Leo in eerie silence. Elias announces, “That’s Gasmask. He excretes toxic fumes from his face, which is why he wears the mask. It’s also why he can’t talk. He’s not much of a people person.”
Lastly, a small, hovering figure flapped its wings lazily as it drifted closer. An enormous eyeball, black and glossy, with a pair of feathered crow’s wings, hovered before Leo. It blinked slowly, giving him a telepathic greeting. “Hi, I’m Bill. I do the reconnaissance, so I mostly just stay back and relay all the info. I can’t really fight, but I can support you guys from afar.” Bill’s message echoed in Leo’s mind, and the sensation made his brain tingle uncomfortably.
Elias looked at Leo, “Ok, newbie. Your turn to introduce yourself to your new family.”
“Uh, ok. I’m Leo Winfield. I can turn invisible, so I could do stealth or that sort of thing. Uh… I can also eat people and absorb their abilities and memories.” Leo was quite nervous. He’d never been in such a surreal situation.
Elias’s smirk widened as he observed Leo’s discomfort. “Alright, you guys know the rules. Keter squad’s gonna police y’all. Any kind of misbehavior gets you sent to the Chamber. Do well enough, and you might just get a chance to be free.”
“Free.” The word was stuck in Leo’s mind. Maybe he could get out if he proved himself enough.
Moments later, Leo was left alone in the bleak atrium with nothing but benches and an old-looking payphone bolted to the wall, the dull hum of surveillance ever-present in the back of his mind. The phone stood out to Leo. “Why would a secret underground compound have a payphone?”, He wondered. It seemed ancient, its receiver heavy in his hand. He decided to dial Richard’s number with trembling fingers. The line rang out, empty. Frowning, he tried Kelly next, but she didn’t answer either, each unanswered ring twisting the knot of dread in his stomach tighter.
With no other option, he punched in Tyler’s number, hoping desperately for a response. Finally, Tyler picked up, his voice smooth, maddeningly calm, and carrying a hint of amusement.
“Tyler?” Leo asked timidly
“Leo! I don’t recognize this number. Where are you now?”
“I can’t tell you, this line’s probably bugged.”
“Nah, it’s fine. Sadie’s got it covered. So, found yourself a cozy new arrangement?” Tyler’s tone was light, but Leo sensed a hidden sharpness beneath it.
“Tyler,” Leo hissed, his frustration spilling over. “I don’t think you understand—this isn’t cozy. The Cleaners… they’ve stuck me in a suicide squad in the middle of the Mojave, and they put something in my neck to keep me obedient. I’m practically a slave here! It’s like some top-secret squad of fiends working for the Cleaners. They’re called the Da’at squad.”
Tyler was silent for a moment, then chuckled, low and untroubled. “Leo, you’re resourceful. Besides, you’re finally getting inside info. A suicide squad, huh? Da’at, that’s new—useful.” His voice dropped, suddenly serious. “Don’t expect my help right away. You’re good at blending in, right? Adapt, play along, and trust that things will fall into place.”
Leo’s frustration bubbled over, but before he could respond, the line went dead, and Tyler hung up abruptly. Standing there, gripping the receiver, Leo felt his resolve harden inside him. He was trapped, a pawn in someone else’s game—and he was only beginning to realize how deep this twisted reality went.