Severain Korein Baros walked to the gardens. The guards who ran by him gave him a wide birth, and with good reason. All the others, staff and subjects, feared him.

                Standing nearly 6’5 and heavily muscled, the only thing he wore was his shorts. They were all Severain needed. Of course the rest of his skin was covered in tattoos of varying design. He loved them all because they defined who he was. The scars that covered his back had left some of his tattoos messed up, but it was worth it. Having volunteered for experiments after an accident that left him nearly dead, he had been genetically altered to become the perfect human. He wouldn't get mad at them for doing what they had to do. Especially since it had been a great success.

For the first year, Severain had gotten used to his body. It had been and still was amazing. What would he have done if he were still paralyzed? Probably die slowly... He was glad his body had been affected by the experiment so well. 

However… his mind was affected as well.

After a while he had started getting violent temper tantrums, sometime resulting in structural damage to the facility and some deaths. The first tantrum was the worst. He still felt guilt for the pain he had caused the others. It had taken days to restrain him and inject the sleep shot. After the third time, he started to learn how to control his anger, though it slipped on occasion. For that reason, he had been forced to undergo a procedure. A small paralyzing device had been inserted into his brain. Severain hated it, but knew it was necessary. 

Grabbing a running soldier, he looked into the man’s visor and stared. “Where are they headed?” he asked sternly, trying to hold back his anger at being ordered around. The soldier shook visibly and tried to wriggle away. Severan held him in place and asked the soldier again, “Where?” the soldier pointed toward a sign. GARDEN, it read.

Severain shoved the guy to the side and started walking again. Why did Drakmor have to try to escape time and time again? It was heaven in here compared to trying to make a life on the surface. Hell, it was almost perfect in here for him. They didn’t use him for tests or even mock missions, they just monitored him. But that wasn’t good enough for Drakmor, no he wanted to see the surface and live on it. Drakmor's attitude forced Severain to be a dick to his peers. 

‘Damn, he’s annoying,’ Severain thought to himself as he neared the Garden entrance. It was time to stop that arrogant punk.


Veseus Farrkov ran along the wall, electromagnetic pulsars keeping him from falling. The 5’7 kid had a long jacket and jet black hair slid against his skull. His pants were torn and he didn’t wear a shirt. Being an experimental technologies overseer he had access to a massive amount of government technology to play with, so he never worried about his looks. Why worry about something as trivial as appearance when it just took focus away from the task at hand. Veseus always had a task, so he had no time to waste on looks anyway.

Today, however, he had been called on to do a special task. It was a perfect opportunity to test out his new gadgets, the very prospect excited him.  If he could just readjust the calibration on the railgun, he would be able to use that too…  But the thermonuclear armor he had would do. That, combined with his gravity alteration device, would do just fine.

Drakmor was the one he really wanted though. Veseus had begged the Chief for his files, but had been refused again and again. It was frustrating but he knew how to work around it. The boy had mercury blood, the entire staff had been told that for protection purposes, and a mechanical arm that utilizes some kind of special bio-mechanical cell in his body to enhance itself and the rest of his body. Veseus hypothesized nanobots of some sort. Maybe the Chief would reward him with the files if Veseus caught Drakmor…

Veseus smiled as he ran toward the garden, the thrill of experimentation filling his head.

                Drakmor ran along the silent halls, watching for Creators. He wouldn’t take any chances and using his abilities would require him to either leave Valeria or possibly hurt her.  He was glad the halls had been cleared for his escape. Drakmor would have to thank Creator Simon after all this was over, if he could.

                To the right a group of Creators came into view. ‘Damn it!’ Drakmor thought as he jumped out of view. How come he hadn't heard them? Footsteps stopped and Drakmor held his breath, listening for movement. Silence was all he heard, with the exception of Valeria's soft breathing.

                “Could have sworn I saw him…” A voice said. It sounded grizzly and tired with a wise edge. ‘Gerard,’ Drakmor thought. One of the top guards Drakmor had once talked to. He was a nice Creator and one who truly cared for his peers and the Creations. But, he had stopped talking to Drakmor after his second escape.

                “Simon said he would be headed to the gardens through here,” another voice, which Drakmor identified as Fred, said. “He has to be nearby, sir.”

                Drakmor swallowed hard. Simon had set him up… Why? He had told Drakmor that he wanted him set free. He said the outside world was waiting. Simon had been one of the few Creators who were still nice to Drakmor. That number was small enough as it stood. Did he just want Drakmor to get caught and get in more trouble so they would move him back to the sarcophagus? 

                ‘Damn it, who cares?’ Drakmor thought to himself, trying to calm down. ‘I’ll break through these limits!’ He set Valeria down gently, no need for her to get hurt. Yelling aloud, he charged toward the Creators. “Sorry about this!” Drakmor yelled before tackling the group of surprised guards, knocking them to the ground. Before they could get up, he knocked them out, one at a time, making sure he didn’t kill them. They should be out for a while, but he wouldn’t waste time.

                Drakmor quickly retrieved Valeria carefully and set off to his destination.

The End

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