George
Fascinated, George watched the engineer check each control switch on the container. Dane adjusted a temperature dial and stepped back, hands on his hips. He whistled tunelessly as he walked around the cage for the sixth time. He's built one helluva contraption, George thought. Too bad all of the man's hard work would be for naught.
Bianca strolled through the door and his head swung in her direction. He smiled. Soon, bitch, he thought. Soon. The nose flaps closed and opened twice in quick succession. Would she smell the same dead? He watched her stroll to the container.
"Nice, Dane." She smiled appreciatively. "It's perfect for viewing and certainly large enough to give him growing room. How do we feed him?"
How do we feed him, George mimicked in his mind. His snout drew back. I know, bitch. Ask me.
"This switch throws a barrier shield across the open space—same substance as the sides." Dane pointed a finger up. "There's a panel on top that slides back. Drop anything you want him to have through that panel. Once it has resealed itself, open the shield and it's his for the taking."
"Hmmm, clever."
"I can't take credit for that one. I borrowed the basic idea from an air lock system used on the old spaceships back in 2010."
"It's still clever," she said. She sauntered around the container, her finger tapping against the glass. "Raphael, leave Sefura to her deciphering and come take a look at the finished product," she called out.
Munoz also tapped the glass. "Is this going to be strong enough, Dane?"
"Absolutely, sir. Guaranteed for a few hundred years."
Munoz stroked his chin. "Would something like this be able to handle the temperature of in-vaulting?"
Dane shook his head. "No, Sir. The process used here will take all the heat you want to give it, but it will shatter into dust if exposed to extreme cold," Dane said.
"What about a dry process?"
"As long as you don't subject it to low temperatures it doesn't matter—wet or dry."
Munoz flashed a glance to Bianca. George saw her barely nod, but before he could catch her thought, it was gone. Now what the hell's going on? he wondered. He hunkered against the floor of the cage with his misshapen legs pulled high against his chest and his snout covered by the short arms.
Bianca prepared a sedative pole and sauntered to the iron cage. "It's time to get you into your new home, my pet," she cooed.
George's muscles tensed. He could feel the power flowing along his veins. The scaled chest inhaled. Closer, bitch. Come closer.
She took a step forward and bent down. "But first, a little injection to put you to sleep."
The topaz eyes snapped open. With a howl of fury, the animal flashed into action; the bone-edged jaw, honed to razor sharpness by scaled arms, jabbed through the bars again and again, the slashing claws grabbed and pulled. Iron bars crinkled.
Bianca jumped back. A fleck of steel peeled from a bar, flew across the short distance, and pricked her face just below her eye. Reaching up, she patted a finger against the spot and stared at the blood on the fingertip. She shrugged.
"If you insist, my pet. Sefura, bring me the rod. Now." Her eyes never left the gyrating body banging against the sides of the cage. "Sefura." Her voice rose.
"I'll get it," Munoz said. Before Bianca could speak, he twisted on his heel and marched from the room. Two seconds later, he handed her the weapon. Switching the sedative pole to her left hand, she grabbed the rod with her right and thumbed the instrument on. George saw barbarous pleasure suffuse her face.
She was coming.
It was time.
In silence, he crouched, his feet braced against the iron behind him, his gaze watching her every move.
Leg muscles rippling beneath the fitted skirt, her eyes glowed as she approached, never once wavering from her target. She raised the rod, paused just as her thrust began. Her body straightened. Without turning around she spoke into the deathly stillness.
"You gentlemen will leave the lab. Close the panel behind you."
Munoz said, "Bianca, I don't think—"
"Unless you, too, hunger to taste the rod, you'll leave now," Bianca spoke softly.
A moment later, the panel soughed closed. She and George were alone.
"Now, pet." She released the pain.
Now, bitch. He released the rage.