Blue Piranha

Everything here was quiet... precise... lethal.

We passed through the laser grid—thin red lines that flipped to green as the lock cleared.

Without looking back Patrick said,

"Stay with me."

My mouth was dry. The soft rhythm of my own breathing sounded grotesquely loud in the hush.

I kept on his heels...

and we stepped into the laboratory.

The air in the hall was cold and neutral. Harsh white lighting washed the space in a sickly, clinical pallor.

I swept the room—then stopped.

The doctor sat in a wheelchair, back to us, eyes locked on the monitor in front of him.

The breath clenched in my lungs finally escaped.

He... was alive.

I took two involuntary steps forward.

Patrick planted himself beside me, brows knotted as always, hands clasped behind his back, lips pressed tight.

The doctor spoke without turning.

"You came."

Slowly he pivoted the chair to face us.

His stubble had grown in, hair rumpled, deep bruises under his eyes—nothing left of that usual iron-clad control.

"Your admin objected to bringing you here again."

I flicked a disinterested glance at Patrick—damn him; his stare was equal parts threat and accusation—then fixed on the doctor.

"But if you hadn't saved me," he said, "I'd be dead now."

I dropped my gaze. "It was my duty."

He studied me in a silence so dense it seemed to crush the air between us.

"At doctor's orders I'm on strict rest," he continued quietly. "No excessive movement until the wound seals."

I lifted my head, meeting those exacting eyes. Whatever came next wouldn't be simple.

"This is the second time you've proven yourself," he said. "So I want you in charge of the remaining experiments."

My heart plunged.

"However you think best, sir."

The spark in my eyes drew a crooked smile to his lips.

"Don't celebrate. The danger equals what happened to me."

He wheeled toward the door in the corner.

"One slip could kill you. Keep your focus."

He stopped before the camera. Seconds later, the metal door—the one I'd obsessed over all week—slid open with a soft mechanical sigh.

"Follow me."

I glanced at Patrick; the fury coiled in his scowl looked ready to detonate.

Squaring my shoulders, I hurried after the doctor—into the Wonderland I'd dreamed of entering since the day I arrived.

The room swallows me whole.

It's a vast, hollow triangle—nothing inside, yet the very air feels heavier than anywhere I've stood.

In each corner a guard stands rigid, bullet-proof uniforms glinting under the cold ceiling lights, batons capped with glass nodes gripped at the ready.

But my eyes lock on the thing in the center.

A square, glass chamber—walls at least ten centimeters thick, ballistic-grade.

Independent ventilation, red laser seams guarding every joint, metal bands clasping the panes like a cage.

The lights inside snap on.

I'm frozen, staring.

A man sits on an oversized steel chair, back toward me.

Both arms strapped to the rests, head bowed, perfectly still.

Something about the tableau feels wrong—unreadable.

Doctor's voice startles me.

"Come closer."

He rolls up beside me in the wheelchair, a thin smile tugging his mouth—as though he's drinking in my shock.

I force my legs forward.

Near the cube, the doctor murmurs, "He can't hear us... but he can see us."

We circle the box for a face-to-face view—

and the sight punches the breath from my lungs.

His head is shaved, scalp gleaming under the fluorescents.

Branded dead center: a tattooed serpent—jaws wide, fangs flaring from crown to brow, as if the black viper is poised to devour his brain.

Heavy brows, long dark lashes—all the more stark against corpse-pale skin. Even without meeting his eyes, menace radiates off him. He's tall, muscles somehow intact after years in captivity. Tubes and wires drop from the ceiling, fixed to points along his body; his gaze is fixed on nothing, he doesn't even blink.

The doctor parks beside me, voice low but edged with steel.

"Meet the most dangerous killer alive."

Words scrape out of my throat.

"Who... who is he?"

Still watching the man, the doctor murmurs,

"Here, we call him Viper. The world knows him as Piranha."

A pause. A crooked smile.

"But his real name... is Ashur."