The fluorescent lights of the underground laboratory flickered and conjured long, jittery shadows against the blood-stained tiles. The air smelled of ozone and fresh copper.
Hunter, Beltrom, Jarrar, the Dog-Man, and four other henchmen knelt on the cold floor. Their shoulders shook violently. They kept their foreheads pressed against the ceramic tiles because they dared not look up.
Hunter was the first to summon a sliver of courage. He lifted his head just enough to expose his scarred chin.
"My Lord," Hunter whispered tremblingly. "We… we searched everywhere. We turned the courtyard upside down. We checked the perimeter. But we cannot find the old man or the kid."
Beside him, Beltrom squeezed his eyes shut. "Maybe… maybe they escaped? They could have slipped into the woods before the lockdown."
"Useless!"
WHOOSH!
A dark blur tore through the stagnant air. It moved with such velocity that the wind pressure alone knocked Beltrom backward.
Hunter blinked. He looked to his left.
Viddy, one of the newer recruits, knelt there a second ago. Now, the man slowly slid apart. A precise, diagonal cut separated his torso from his hips.
SPLAT.
The top half of Viddy hit the floor with a wet thud. His entrails spilled out like warm sausages.
"Ah… Ahhh!" Jarrar screamed but stifled the sound with his hands.
Terror, absolute and primal, seized the group. Hunter slammed his forehead against the floor.
THUD.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm useless!"
Beltrom and the others followed suit. They prostrated themselves in a rhythmic, frantic display of submission.
THUD. THUD. THUD.
"Please forgive us!"
"We won't stop searching!"
"We'll chase him to the ends of the earth!"
The sound of their skulls impacting the tiles echoed eerily through the lab. It was a drumbeat of pure desperation.
"Enough."
The voice was deep. It resonated in their chests like the growl of a subterranean beast.
The banging stopped instantly.
Hunter looked up slowly. His eyes widened as they travelled up the figure standing before them.
Gone was the hunchbacked, grey-haired dwarf in the dirty lab coat. In his place stood a seven-foot titan of biological perfection. The entity possessed a chiselled torso and arms that rippled with corded muscle. His skin was a deep, bruised purple, and patches of obsidian scales armoured his forearms and shins. Razor-sharp toenails dug into the concrete floor.
A pair of curved, black horns protruded from his forehead, crowned by a mane of long, flowing grey hair. From his back, two massive, bat-like wings unfurled and cast a shadow over the kneeling men. A thick tail lashed the air behind him with the sound of a whip.
This was Vanderznak. The newest batch of Mellontikos Juice had not killed him; it had evolved him.
He stood with his right hand clamped over the right side of his face. His left eye; a piercing, manic gold, twitched as he surveyed his minions with utter contempt.
"It is unnecessary to broaden the search," Vanderznak rumbled. "The variable is on his way here."
Hunter blinked, confused. "He… he is coming here? How do you know, my Lord?"
Vanderznak slowly lowered his right hand.
The socket was empty. It was a raw, gaping hole that oozed a clear fluid.
"My evolution was superb. The integration of the unknown genetic sequence from the specimen created a cellular bond close to the perfection I envisioned. However… a detestable variable ruined my symmetry."
Vanderznak spoke with the clinical detachment of a professor, despite his monstrous appearance.
He pointed a clawed finger at the empty socket.
"I have lost an eye. Imbalance is inefficient. But soon, this error shall be rectified. Because the thief who stole my vision is bringing it back to me."
The henchmen exchanged bewildered glances. They didn't understand the scientific babble, but Hunter caught the implication.
"He means the old man," Hunter whispered to the others. "The old man has the eye."
"But…" Jarrar stammered, looking at Viddy's bisected corpse. "If he knew the old man was coming, why bother killing Viddy? Why make us kneel?"
"Quiet!" Hunter hissed. "Do you want to be next?"
Hunter looked at the purple giant and felt a cold knot of realization in his gut. For weeks, Hunter had secretly plotted. He thought his own mutation made him superior to the crippled scientist. He had planned to snap the little man's neck and take over the estate.
'What a fool I was,' Hunter thought as sweat dripped down his nose. 'He was always ten steps ahead. If I had tried anything, he would have swatted me like a fly.'
Vanderznak's golden eye suddenly dilated. He tilted his head.
"He's here."
Clack. Clack. Clack.
Footsteps echoed from the corridor outside. They were not the frantic steps of a fugitive. They were paced. Steady. Deliberate.
The men inside the lab scrambled to their feet. They formed a protective semi-circle around Vanderznak, fist clenched, though their hands shook.
"How dare he come back?" Beltrom whispered. "He must have a death wish."
"What can he do to us?" Jarrar asked, trying to convince himself. "Wasn't he crippled? The mutation must have consumed him by now."
"Yes," Hunter muttered. "But why… why do I feel so scared?"
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
The heartbeats of seven men filled the silence.
CREAK!
The heavy metal doors swung open.
Zareth stood in the threshold. He looked like he had walked through hell and decided to come back for a souvenir. His coat was shredded. His face was smeared with grime and dried blood.
But to their shock, he stood tall. His legs were not twisted ruins; they were straight and functional. The rampant mutation that should have turned him into a mindless blob had been halted at his shoulder.
Only his left arm remained a testament to the horror; a hulking, black mass of scales and muscle that hung by his side like a weapon of war.
"Hmm…"
Zareth's gaze swept the room. He noted Viddy's bisected body. He noted the seven terrified henchmen. Finally, his eyes locked onto the towering purple demon in the centre.
He stared at the golden eye. His own left arm gave a painful throb in response.
"Madman, is that you?" Zareth asked. "What the hell happened? You grew a few feet. And here I thought I killed you."
"Kuhuhu…"
Vanderznak's laughter was deep and resonant. "My death shall not be determined by a lowlife vermin like you, old man."
The scientist stepped forward and pushed his henchmen aside as if they were cardboard cutouts.
"But I must express my amazement."
Vanderznak looked Zareth up and down with genuine scientific curiosity.
"Batch 007 is the most vile, volatile, and unpredictable formula I have ever synthesized. Every test subject injected with even a micro-dose ended up dead or permanently incapacitated within minutes. Their biology simply collapses."
Vanderznak leaned down until his face was level with Zareth's.
"You took a full syringe directly to the heart. And yet… you stand. You halted the cellular rewrite. What makes you so special?"
Zareth smirked. He reached into his pocket with his human hand and pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes. It was empty. He tossed it aside.
"Take a wild guess, Shorty. Aren't you supposed to be smart? Or did your intelligence diminish after your growth spurt?"
"You insolent pest!" Vanderznak's wings flared out, knocking over a tray of surgical tools. CLATTER!
He straightened up and tapped his temple with a claw.
'Think,' Vanderznak commanded himself. 'Analyze the data. What am I missing? I am the smartest intellect on this continent. There is no biological anomaly I cannot explain.'
He replayed the events. Zareth's resilience. The impossible volume of blood he produced during the draining. The way he maintains a calm demeanour no matter what. And now, the ability to consciously arrest a cellular mutation that operated on a genetic level.
'To stop the mutation, one would need total control over their own biological functions. They would need to manipulate their own blood flow, cellular regeneration, and internal energy output. No ordinary human possesses such bio-feedback.'
His golden eye widened.
'Wait. There is one group. A group of fanatics who train their bodies to be weapons. Who weaponize their own biology through faith and discipline.'
Vanderznak looked at Zareth. The realization hit him with the force of a thunderclap.
"There is no mistake," Vanderznak whispered. "That is the only explanation."
He grinned, exposing rows of serrated teeth.
"You're a stinking Priest, aren't you?"
Zareth shrugged his right shoulder.
"Bingo."
"I have to praise you, Madman. It only took you..." Zareth glanced at an imaginary watch on his wrist, "...forty seconds to figure it out. Maybe there's a brain inside that ugly skull after all."
"So I was correct?"
Vanderznak glared at Zareth as he retreated behind his henchmen.
"But, you're wrong about one thing…"