It was only minutes after I had woken up that I was led down the hallway, abruptly denied time to change into much of anything. I was handed my pair of loose gray pants that pooled around my ankles; the waistband was mildly insufficient in ensuring no one walking by could steal a perverted or unwanted glimpse at my lower regions.
Though the floor beneath us was bitterly cold, my lack of slippers was torturing my feet with the frigid temperatures they were being subjected to; my mind had been tracing back to everything that had happened last night.
From the encounter with Harland to the group of Damien's friends who had turned into monsters and needed to be fed. What scared me the most was that a small number of people in this facility were aware of this anomaly to begin with.
If I could put the pieces together, even the nurses, wardens, and attendants could connect the dots. Though the figures of authority were under the false jurisdiction of Harland and his gang, who decided who got food and who didn't through what I guessed was a mostly power-based system. Almost like a video game of some sort.
A pair of warm yet mostly unwelcome hands remained on my back, forcing my feet forward and down the hallway. On either side of me, the doors to the patients' rooms remained closed, but I could hear and smell the atmosphere behind them. Eventually, we came to rest in front of a door at the end of the hallway after a few more turns.
It was like every other door I had seen, with a metal sign with the word "CONDITIONING" in a big, almost foreboding font.
"Go on, don't be reckless." One of the attendants opened the door.
The other one nudged me into the room with a force that seemed to lack any semblance of calmness or regard for the patient's physical condition. My gaze drifted to the nearest mirror, taking in the circles around my eyes and the bandages still around my head.
My bare chest stood pale, my ribs visible under my skin. This wasn't due to malnutrition; I was generally not a very athletic teenager. As my gaze left the mirror, I carefully scanned the room, taking in the environment with the callousness of a mouse. A myriad of instruments and surgical equipment lined the walls, the rigged hooks, blades, and appliances glinting malevolently in the dim lights of a kerosene-powered lamp.
A small sign was nestled above the door, with a sketch of a hand pointing to a chair, which was situated in the corner.
"WAIT UNTIL THE DOCTOR COMES TO SEE YOU" was written in neat, almost bubbly handwriting.
I silently obeyed, not bothering to look around anymore. But even as I remained in my seat, resting my hands underneath my thighs, I still felt myself gazing into the surgical instruments hanging on the walls like harbingers of death.
It was only a few minutes later before the door opened in the far corner of the office. A woman of short stature, icy blue eyes, and snow-white hair that complemented every aspect of her appearance, walked into the room. She was draped in all-white attire, a medical mask coiled around her ears. She looked towards me, lowering the mask from her face.
Her lips were hot red, bordering on the hue of fresh blood. A small dimple was nestled between her cheekbones, sitting atop the prominent bone of her chin.
The enigmatic woman strode over to me, her shrewd, almost viperous demeanor never faltering, even for a moment. Her fingers, bedazzled with long nails with traces of red and black, extended outwards, prompting me to raise my head.
"I am Doctor Clancey, a specialist in rational and habitual analysis."
Her tone was soft and collected, yet it seemed to contain an undercurrent of something more sinister. Her long nails and sharp eyes had full-on convinced me I was face-to-face with a succubus. My lips parted, my throat parched with a dryness adjacent to a desert.
"Nice to meet you," the words drooled from my throat. I wasn't enraptured by this woman's appearance, as I had fully convinced myself of my sexual orientation. It was more about intimidation and the willfulness to submit to her every whim, bordering on a creepy, almost desperate sensation.
Doctor Clancey smiled, her crimson lips twitching up to form a smile. This smile wasn't one I had expected of her; it was warmer, almost motherly.
"I fully expect you to know why you're here today, correct?" She pulled out a piece of paper and a worn, mottled clipboard. She dipped a fountain pen into some reliable ink and began to scribble down some notes.
I nodded my head in response, releasing my hands from under my thighs and resting them on my knees, sitting at attention. "I was told by a friend that you'd zap me or something?"
Upon hearing my words, the woman froze in her spot. Her icy-blue eyes drifted in my direction, and she let out a low, almost feline chuckle. "I don't see why I should administer electric stimuli to you, good sir ...yet."
"E-excuse me?" I paused, a trail of goosebumps painting my skin with bumps, my hair standing on end like soldiers ready for their next order.
"Have a seat in the chair facing my desk," the doctor pointed to the hull of mechanical clockwork and machinery situated in the corner of the room. The device was an ashen gray color, riddled with rust and mottled burns. The arm and leg rests came accompanied by restraints designed to hold one in place.
My stomach sank to my feet, and I swear I might have mentally passed out upon seeing that damn thing. With shaky, trembling legs that threatened to give out under me, I tipped and turned towards the device, sitting down and making myself as comfortable as I could.
The cold, unyielding metal of the device assaulted my back and bare skin like a thousand tiny knives digging into my pale flesh. The sensation of Doctor Clancey locking me in place had my body paralyzed, a strange pain surging forth that quickly dulled, sinking into the depths of my being, my body that was now locked in place.
"I-is this ...r-really necessary?" I asked, my arms habitually thrusting upwards against the unyielding restraints, attempting to escape. The metal bit into my wrists with the fervor of a hungry bear, threatening to shed skin and cause bleeding that would pool and run down the side of the armrest, soaking my lower chest and light-colored pants.
"A necessary precaution. More mentally unstable individuals are often locked into this device."
"T-then why me?" I leaned forward, giving my back temporary relief from the bitterly cold metal.
Doctor Clancey sighed, her expression turning more solemn. Her long nails tapped the edges of her worn clipboard like a macabre anthem of her duties.
"Your condition has been labeled as unnatural, something we don't know about, and something we can't exactly contain."
She gestured towards a sign hanging beside her desk. It showcased a diagram that looked like layers of a cake, the colors gradually darkening alongside descriptions of gradual states of a patient's physical and mental health. From what I saw, those with the brightest color, adjacent to the least problematic description, wouldn't be a subject of much worry.
Those with the darkest color, labeling them as "UNCONTAINABLE," were described as those who required constant surveillance and admonishment to a degree to ensure their mental and physical state didn't deteriorate any further.
"Which one am I?" I couldn't help but ask, my gut churning like hot soup.
Doctor Clancey looked towards the sign, extending one of her fingers and pointing at the second-lowest description, with the second-deepest hue of red.
"After this session, we'll either have you higher or lower on the problematic scale."
...
"He can't remember anything from last night," Olivia described what she had heard from Aizawa, pointing to the man in front of Leo.
The red-haired man was washing cups when the duo entered the bar, but he immediately stopped and bee-lined to the duo.
"What do you mean he can't remember anything? You're telling me that weird man with that card in the market is something he forgot too?" Leo took a hold of Aizawa's shoulder.
"What do you mean by that?" Olivia's eyes widened, she stepped closer to Leo, her grayish-blue eyes flickering.
"Yesterday while investigating the drug you found, we ran into him trying to get a hit of it. After a fight, he ran off and dropped a card."
"What did he look like, we can have the police investigate this matter." Olivia continued, her voice filled with determination.
"His hair was gray, and one of his eyes was missing. From what I could see, his only working eye was yellow." Leo explained.
The man's description hung in the air for a few moments, refusing to dissipate. It was at this moment when Olivia stumbled back, almost falling to the floor. Her head began to race, feeling a little queasy and fuzzy on the edges.
"Isaiah ...Aaron's friend?" She felt as if she had been struck by lightning by this revelation.
Leo perked up. "Excuse me?"
"I-I think I know who you're talking about!" Olivia looked up at him, tugging at his shirt. "Where's the nearest law enforcement agency?"
"The Pollinators seem busy at the moment, I don't kno—" A sharp slap from the girl roused him from his flurry of words.
"I don't care if they're the Pollinators or not, where the hell can we find someone to handle this?"
Leo abruptly stood up, pointing out towards the east side of the kingdom, nearby the cathedral. "There's a law enforcement office a few blocks from the cathedral. If I remember correctly, it's three lefts and one right."
Olivia nodded and thanked him, before standing up and shooting out the door like a bullet. She had Aizawa by the hand the entire time, the dark-haired man in what seemed to be a constant state of confusion, mumbling to himself like a crazy person. At this moment, Olivia flinched the second something sharp touched the ground.
Before she could react, another object graced her lower calf, shedding blood and hitting the snow-covered sidewalk. The woman's gaze darted in the direction of the attacks—somewhere up high. But among the smokestacks and tiled roofs, no one or nothing could be seen. Olivia refrained from moving or making any sudden gestures that would alert this attacker.
Another small object sped out of a puff of smoke, barely missing Olivia and hitting the street once again. The woman's body trailed with goosebumps, remaining vigilant. Her instincts screamed at her to run, and for once, she listened. Her hand remained clasped around Aizawa's wrist, pulling the man alongside her as she ran like a bullet-train to the law enforcement office.
The woman barged into the office, setting Aizawa down on a nearby chair. The officer situated behind the desk immediately responded, her expression vigilant.
"I'm needing you to help me with something. I was just attacked and there's something involving drugs" She gasped out.