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Castiel
Two more specialized teams have been dispatched from the Institute in the past hour. Their mission? To find Tiger and his companion and bring them both back, alive. Gerard has a general idea as to where the duo is headed, but who they seek is a mystery he has yet to solve.
The uncertainty of it all has Gerard on the verge of hysterics. He has long-lost enemies out there. People who know who he is and what he’s done. All of them have vowed to avenge their loved ones. Losing control and being unable to regain it immediately presents him with an array of problems, all of which could lead to his eventual downfall.
That day seems to grow nearer.
The uncertainty the future holds has Gerard shaking in his boots. Though he has become an expert at hiding his true emotions, there is no mistaking the uneven thumps of his heart.
He has had to deal with escapees before, but none represented a true loss for his company or his ambitious goals. Tiger is the key to his success and with him gone, he aims to lose everything he’s worked hard to achieve, for well over a hundred fifty years.
Thus far, he doesn’t suspect this plan originated from me and that I was the one who provided Tiger with the opportunity to flee, but once he’s assured I aided in this mission, punishment will not be swift.
Gerard may be obsessed with immortality, but his favorite blood sport is torture. This is why he had me transferred to the seventh floor, to a permanent cell where all kinds of devices meant to inflict pain are at easy disposal.
A commotion outside my prison room catches my interest. I glance up at the cell on the other side of the hall, to my right. A giant rises on his two hind legs, and roars. The sound reverberates against the glass walls, which vibrate almost violently. The men inside the room scatter in every direction, yielding a series of stun batons and Tasers.
The eight-foot beast swipes at the man nearest to him, his four-inch claws barely missing the top of his prey’s head. The man, anticipating this reaction, ducks out of the way in time to keep the sharp hooks from tearing him a new face. I watch the battle, this one no different from any other I’ve witnessed before. The Ancient One is a difficult prisoner to handle. How Gerard has managed to subdue this predator for this long is still incomprehensible to me.
As with every other creature in the Institute, Gerard has his purpose for the Ancient One. However, he has not gotten far with his attempts at using the old one as a tool for his most recent research. And given the long history between the two, I doubt he ever will.
The Ancient One roars ferociously, muzzle open wide with the intention to bite a chunk of flesh from its nearest opponent. Encumbered by multiple manacles that hinder his mobility and make it so he can only move several feet to either side, he is still one powerful adversary. Never has he gone down without a fight. Every fit he throws costs Gerard a man or two and puts a growing dent on the bastard’s fortune.
The men begin to exit the room one by one. Never once do they present the predator with their backs. It will be their last move if they do.
A trainee, having been at the Institute for no more than a fortnight, makes the ungodly mistake of allowing his cockiness to get in the way of his common sense. In three steps, he’s standing within arm’s reach of the Ancient One and pokes at his ribcage with the stun baton. If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years I have observed human behavior, it is that big and burly does not necessarily equal a productive brain. And this one’s judgment lacks even the smallest degree of intelligence.
The Ancient One spins at the speed of light and manages to grab the arrogant man’s wrist, hauling him closer to his broad, hairy chest. In a fit of terror, the man screams and begs for help as he sees a long snout and sharp teeth descending upon his face.
The fully geared security staff charges in to assist, assaulting the giant carnivore with their electrical weapons. They strike with barbaric brutality, connecting with every area they can manage to hit without fear of losing an arm or an eye. As large and powerful as the Ancient One is, the lack of a proper diet and years of being confined to a small room have worked a great amount of stamina out of him.
In the melee, the insolent newbie is released. Having learned his lesson, he crawls out of the room and scampers into the hallway. Another guard, this one more experienced and less intimidated, activates the control panel to one side of the main doorway, and calls for reinforcements.
As soon as his crew is at a safe distance, the team leader initiates the command that will prompt the series of manacles attached to the furry beast to deliver a high voltage of electrical charge, powerful enough to kill five grown men.
The first boost of energy forces the Ancient One to stop. The second, most potent charge bullies him to his knees. Outraged, he protests by growling, his body quivering with both anger and pain. Gerard has a different tactic of operation when it comes to the creatures he keeps in the Institute. With those like me, the draining of blood leaves our stamina low enough to keep us sufficiently controlled. With an adversary as the Ancient One, potentially deadly doses of electrical charge work well to Gerard’s advantage.
Torrent after torrent courses through a series of cables, each of which descend from a main breaker in the ceiling and are connected to the multiple fetters on the arms, legs, waist, and one around his neck. The cries of helplessness that emanate from the giant figure do little to arouse the sympathy of our ruthless caretakers.
Only after blood has begun to emerge from the Ancient One’s facial orifices does the team leader shut down the system and order everyone to evacuate the room, which he then promptly secures and locks behind him. Following with the protocol established by Gerard himself, the team will now have to report to the boss and the newbie will have to answer for his carelessness.
Down on one knee, the old one struggles to bring under control the rapid beating of his enlarged heart, and his ragged breathing.
His words invade my train of thought.
This child of yours better return to liberate us. Furthermore, I sincerely hope he keeps his promise to bring auxiliaries.
Patience, though not an easy feat, is the one thing we need to maintain, I reply.
The Ancient One rises, flattening both palms against the glass, and fixes an angry stare at me, his large, gray eyes communicating a level of distrust he does not express with words.
We have an understanding, if not a friendship. These humans have a debt to pay. And although enemies for many centuries, something greater than fate brought us here, and obligated us to work as a team.
In the end, one way or another, our differences will be resolved.