Maximum Ride Fan Fiction / Maximum Ride Fan Fiction ❯ If I Asked You To, Would You Kill Me? ❯ Let's Play Rough ( Chapter 9 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Chapter 9

Jeb turned a few switches and gazed at the electronic data panel. The tech had already told him what the vitals were, but after the last escapade, he wanted to make sure himself…He wasn't going to take a chance on the boy this time.

In front of him and all the control panels, was a giant glass cylinder tank, filled to the top with lime-green colored saline fluid. Floating in the midst of the liquid, was the unconscious Fang… His dark hair drifted around him, and his limbs moved slowly suspended, flowing with the saline's inner current.

They had stripped him of his old, soiled clothes, and washed him down with a hose. He had been glad, but not surprised to find, that when he removed Fang's bandage, his gunshot wound was completely gone.

Dressing him in a swimmer's bodyskin suit, which would be apropos in the observation tank. The weightlessness of the liquid, caused his wings to automatically fully extend; onto which they had added electronic sensors to the tips. His wrists and ankles were banded with receptor shackles; they were linked to the electronic cables that went into the tank's floor and outside into their computers, where they could analyze the data.

A sudden beeping came to one of the monitors. Knowing full well what it meant, Jeb looked up at the tank, and watched as Fang's eyes began to flutter as he came awake. At first, the boy looked around slightly disoriented, trying to catch his bearings. Then, his eyes settled on Batchelder, and they were suddenly fixed with a glare that could freeze lava.

“Hello, Fang.” Jeb greeted nonchalantly, knowing the teen could hear him perfectly, with the help of the microphone clipped to his collar.

Fang said nothing in return but just kept his cold stare.

Jeb kept recording information as he talked. “I'm going to be frank with you now, Fang. We've brought you here because—your DNA, your entire body is changing down to the subatomic level.”

Fang's eyes flickered in surprise, a shadow of disbelief crossing his face. What was Jeb talking about now?

His mind seemed to answer him back, Maybe…about the strange behavior you've been experiencing lately?

He rebuked his own mind. He'd been right to kill that Eraser! He knew the other wouldn't have even thought twice, if the positions were reversed.

But what about drinking his—?

Fang stopped himself right there, before things got too out of hand.

Jeb observed his behavior as he continued, “Know, I couldn't predict the symptoms of your mutation from where you were, and in light of your last little fiasco, we've had you moved to a more secure location. Here we can observe you better and you'll get the best round-the-clock care.”

Fang laughed from behind the mask. The boy's mouth and nose were covered by a breathing mask that's long tube ran through the tank's ceiling, but a microphone had also been added. “That was funny, Jeb. I almost laughed. No wait—I did.”

Something in Jeb began to crack. It had been a long day, and he had had to do so much in a very short time. Getting his team together, overseeing and rechecking the diagnostic pre-workup tests, dealing with Ari…it was a major work-out and stress on his body. And now, to deal with this snippy teenage experiment, to which he was trying his best to keep stable…his patience, was getting thinner and thinner.

This time when he spoke, his voice held an infuriated clipped element about it, one of irritation and short temperedness. “Look Fang, I don't care what you think anymore, got it? You can think I'm trying to help you, you can believe I'm trying to kill you, I don't care!”

Fang looked at the doctor with interest. He'd never experienced this side of Jeb before—it was fascinating…

Jeb continued, his anger rising, but his face remaining carefully placid. “I've let you and the rest of the flock slip by many times, to test your skills. But now's not one of those times. You killed an Eraser, Fang! A full-grown Eraser! You're a danger to yourself and others now, there's no way I can let you go—not now, maybe not ever…”

Now it was Fang's turn to get mad. Letme go? Letme escape? He must be out of his freakin' mind!

`Kill him…'

Fang shook his head quickly. Whoa, where did that thought come from? As much as he hated Jeb, he didn't think he could kill another human being. An Eraser was one thing, but humans?

`What's the difference? They all want to kill you…show him who you are…'

The teen smiled, agreeing with the inner voice that he had come to call “Blade”; after the fact that he could hear it, like a blade cutting through his head. It was the same voice as his own, but held a darkness that he'd never felt before. A darkness which had been born out of his own mind. He knew that he and Blade were one and the same, but until he understood the Blade-side of him more, he'd refer to him as an independent entity.

Usually, he and Blade were at odds with one another. Fang, the restraint, on an ever strengthening, and lethal Blade. However, it seemed that in times of intense emotional response, his restraints would slip and Blade would become more dominant. This is what happened, when he'd killed the Eraser.

What scared him, was that one day…Blade would have more control then he, and maybe—just maybe—take over, permanently...

However, right now, he didn't think about any of that. This time, they agreed.

He pulled on the shackles holding him in the tank and pushed the water with his wings. The manacles pulled his body taunt, but the water made it tolerable. He found the bonds were also stronger than he had expected, there was no slack at all, and his arms and legs soon ached. However his wings could move freely, and their tips could easily hit the glass. He began to beat the glass repeatedly in the same places, his mind automatically and simultaneously discovering, accepting, and utilizing the fact that his feathers had turned into metal. Their razor-sharp tips began to scrape into the tank's sides.

Though the effect caused a blinding whirlwind within the tank's confines, Jeb knew exactly what the boy was doing. Sighing with exasperation, he sat down at the control panel. Fang, Fang—even if your wings are made of metal, that glass is 8 inches thick, and reinforced with an energy shield. I toldyou I wasn't taking anymore chances. Why don't you ever listen?

At first, he tried to ignore the boy.

TINK-TINK-TINK…

He kept his eyes on the controls, watching the vitals going higher, matching the boy's adrenaline.

TINK-TINK-TINK…

His muscles tensed as he watched the bubbles swirl round and round the 500-gallon tank, in a hypnotizing cycle.

TINK-TINK-TINK-T-T-T-T-TINK…!

Jeb slammed down his pad. That's it! The boy wants to play rough, then let's play rough.

Moving to a red switch high near the circulation monitor; he flicked it into the `off' position.

Suddenly, Fang couldn't breathe! His air supply had been cut off, sharply, cruelly, and without mercy. No matter what he did, oxygen would not enter his lungs!

Jeb watched indifferently, as the bubbles began to settle and Fang began to struggle and squirm, his hands clutching at his throat, his eyes in alarm.

Calmly, the doctor stood up and looked straight at the fraught teenager. “Right now, I'm the only one keeping you dead or alive. I can end your life. Right here! Right now! Don't underestimate me, Fang…I don't underestimate you. There will be no more irritating, non-availing attempts to escape. Do you understand me, Fang?”

The boy began to turn blue and limp, his struggles making it worse. His body automatically tried to wrestle to the surface, but of course, his bonds stayed fast. His lungs burned tensely, and his vision began to blur.

Jeb stood there tapping his pen unhurriedly, “I can't hear you? DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?”

Though Fang would rather die than give into Jeb's whims, Blade was for survival—and survival alone.

Batchelder watched as Fang stopped squirming long enough to vigorously nod his head. Smiling he said, “That's a good boy. I'm glad we're clear on the order of things.”

He turned nonchalantly back to his desk and casually hit the red switch back into the `on' position.

Suddenly, oxygen began to fill the bird-teen's lungs once again. He breathed in deeply, taking in the luscious air a gasp at a time. When he had finally gotten enough into his lungs to ensure his continued existence, Fang became cognizant again. He looked at Jeb's cool face with so much venom, a cobra's couldn't compare. “You sick, son-of-a-bi—”

The doctor's hand still hovered over the red switch, “What was that, Fang?”

A low, almost guttural, snarl came over the mike. He knew if the mask had not been in place, he'd have seen an impressive display of the teen's ever-elongating bared fangs.

Sighing, Jeb moved to a strange mechanical device. It looked like a tiny, futuristic, model cannon.

“What's that?” Fang asked testily.

“It's an IHSL: Ionic Histological Scanning Laser. We use it to give us a slow but thorough examination of failed experiments. To tell us what went wrong, why, and how to fix the problem for further research.”

Fang knew well enough to know that “failed” usually meant dead. “So…the autopsies showed the cause of death was, let me guess—you?”

Jeb decided to ignore that. “I don't have time to debate with you. I'm tired, so shut-up with the smart talk. Now, we've never used this on any living tissue before, so this will be a first time for all of us.”

Hitting the power switch, the IHSL began to hum to life. From the narrow barrel of the laser's head, a wide green beam shot out hitting the glass of the tank head on. The laser beam went right through the thick glass, through the saline, and struck Fang square in the chest.

The moment the green light hit his body, Fang felt torturous pain such as he had never felt in all his life! It was an excruciating agony, which felt as if every molecule of his body was being ripped out one by one, turned inside out, and then thrust back in with violent ferocity! The more the beam stayed on him, the worse it got. In comparison with this…even eternal damnation would be more desirable.

Jeb was suddenly flooded with the sound of the teen's tormented screams. “Whoa Fang, you're going to blow our sound system.” He reached down and flipped a blue switch, turning off the boy's mike, and simultaneously halting the bloodcurdling cries. “Thank goodness that glass is soundproof. Well at least we know that the laser is not pleasant on living tissue.”

Rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly, he did one last check to make sure the IHSL was gathering the information correctly. Then moving toward the security door, he flicked the lights off for the night. He looked back as the green light beam continued to scan the writhing Fang, making the water around him glow almost supernaturally. The scan would be done in twenty-four hours—plenty of time for him to get at least a couple hours of sleep before looking over the incoming data.

Leaving the suffering Fang behind him without a backward glance, Jeb made his way up to his office. Entering the room, he placed his files on his desk and then continued on to the next door in the back of his workplace. This led to a small room, with a simple bed and a tiny washroom with shower—his little home away from home.

Closing the door and not even bothering to turn on the light, he popped down into his chair in fatigue, and rested silently with his eyes closed.

He had been sitting there for what was only a few minutes, when he heard the door open again silently, and the muffled taps on the floor made by a pair to two-inch heels.

Jeb knew who it was, even before she draped her lithe feminine arms around his tired shoulders, kissed his cheek, and then began to slowly massage his neck. “Are you a psychic, Hon? You seem to know exactly what I need.”

Anne smiled charmingly, “I'm no psychic, but I am your wife. I think that qualifies.”

He reached up and took her left hand, kissing it gently; he glanced at the inconspicuous diamond ring on her fourth finger. Comparing it with the gold band on his left hand, he sighed with resignation. “How in the world do you keep your's so clean? It's as pretty as the day I put it on your hand.”

She spun around and sat lightly on his lap, her hair, now loose and unbound, cascaded over her shoulders like shimmering blonde waterfalls. “That's because I don't go around sticking my fingers into test tubes and such anymore. I leave that to you, my underling.”

“Well, that's to be expected.”

“I thought you were going to bite my head off this morning, are you that wound up?”

“I was just keeping up appearances?”

“BUZZZ! Sorry, that's my job. What's really going on? Fang giving you trouble? Or is it Ari?”

He shook his head, “No, our son was more than eager to get out of his impromptu `time-out'.”

“I'm telling you, Jeb. I'm not supposed to be the disciplinarian here. You're his father.”

“Well you're his mother, don't get on me about his behavior. He got half his genes from you, initially!”

Not many people knew that Jeb and Anne were married, and fewer still knew that Ari was the link they shared. Because of their business status and leadership positions, the union between the two would be highly frowned upon. So, for the sake of their jobs and ranks, Anne kept her maiden name and put on record that she was divorced from an abusive husband, and that the ring she wore was a trophy of her independence. Jeb's records read that he was a widower with one son, who wore his ring out of reverence to his wife.

During the day, they had a business relationship, that revealed nothing of the intimate one hidden beneath the surface. They even argued often in public, keeping up the facade of boss vs. subordinate. They had never even told Ari about his mother, but they knew he suspected. However, when the sun went down, and the business suits and lab coats were hung up; the pretenses were dropped.

He sighed in playful acquiescence, “Well , the thing is, Fang does have me wound up. Trying to get everything together, and then having to deal with his attitude.”

She caressed his face in concern, “Do you think you can figure him out?”

He sighed again, “Hopefully, with the help of the IHSL, I can scan him and figure out what's wrong, and hopefully reverse the effects. But it's going to take time, and—Man, am I tired!”

Anne smiled sensually, and kissed him full on the lips. “Let me see if I can get you a little—unwound, Darling.”

She continued to kiss him with more and more intense passion. All the while, she turned around and stradled his waist, removing his lab coat and unbuttoning his shirt.

Jeb felt his body relax and respond to her touch all at once. Taking hold of her head, he began to kiss her back, slipping his other hand beneath her blouse and along her soft pink flesh.

Yes, this definitely unwound him…