Don't You See?

Red's smile does not disappear.

First, he had killed the little, furred creature. Its body fell limp in its hand. He had dropped it back into its small cage and looked up to see Doctor Roget frozen with fear.

He had savored his first taste of fear.

Then, when his creator showed no signs of responding, he picked up the lifeless creature out of the box, stared at it, and had the urge to dig into it with his teeth. And he did. And that was his first taste of a wonderful thing called blood.

Afterward, Roget immediately entered the room, bringing with him a pair of handcuffs. Red looked up at him, not bothering to ask any questions, as both his wrists were chained together. The body of the creature, now gashed with the scar of sharp teeth, was left in the plastic case in the room.

Now, Red is still smiling. The taste of both blood and fear still linger on his tongue. He wonders and wonders and wonders, a thousand questions all at once, about how blood and fear came to be, and where blood comes from-- supposedly behind the skin of any living thing-- and if Dr. Roget has blood, and if the science-men have blood, and if all humans have blood. He wonders and wonders and wonders about fear, too. Does he cause fear? Can he cause fear? Should he cause fear?

It seems that he has scared Roget. The scientist's hands are shaky as he holds onto Red and takes him down the hall.

Red is not led back to his room, not with his brothers, but rather to a room with all sorts of disinfectant sprays and wipes. Roget takes the wipes, fingering them carefully so as not to spread any of the creature's blood, and wipes the Shadow child's hands clean. His mouth is about to be wiped off when he pulls away, startled, and not wanting the doctor to put anything close to his teeth.

"No!" Red pushes the wipe away. "Stop it!"

"Red," demands Roget, staring at him forcefully, "I have to."

"You don't!" whines the Shadow, once again shoving the towelette away from his face. "It tastes good! Don't take it away from me!"

He has scared Roget. Again. The gloved hands flinch away from him, frightened. For a clear moment, the room is silent.

Red, unaware that liking the taste of blood is a rare (and unintended) feat, blinks blankly. "What?"

"That's..." The former swallows. "That wasn't supposed... You... weren't supposed to be able to taste things."

"Really?" The subject perks up. "But I do taste them. Two things, actually." He tsks, seemingly trying to figure out what the other taste in his mouth represents.

"Two?" The scientist proceeds to toss the blood-covered wipe into a trash can labeled "hazardous." "What other thing?"

"Fear."

"...Y..." Roget, struggling to find words, falters. All of his scientific notes, all of his preparation, had led up to the three Shadows, and he had meant for them to be subjects capable of mass destruction and grounded defense, but he had never thought that they would be... so sadistic, in a sense. He had never meant for Red to taste blood, or to taste fear, or to enjoy both tastes so much that he has an urge to obtain either blood or fear whenever given the chance. "You taste fear?"

Red nods his head affirmatively. "Yes. Yours specifically." His eyes narrow down to crystallite slits. "Why are you afraid of me, Quinlan?"

Dr. Roget places a firm hand atop Red's head, nudged between his two growing horns, and mutters, "Don't call me by my first name."

"Why?"

"It's disrespectful." He grabs ahold of Red's wrist, again, and begins to tug him out of the shiny room and back into the tiled hallway. "You are not someone who should be given permission to call me by my first name."

Red shuts the door, knowing that the scientist often forgets to do so. His face, creased with concern, looks toward Roget's mask. "Who does have permission? Human-people? The other science-men?"

"Yes." It is a topic that he does not like to speak of.

The Shadow continues in his persistence. "So... only humans have permission to call you by your first name?"

"Yes." They turn a corner.

"But... why not my brothers and I?"

Roget's lab coat whips his back when he turns to Red. Behind his mask, his eyes glimmer with a threatening spark. He should have no tolerance with the Shadow children anymore, for, as he as learned, they are not real children, but just subjects. And he should treat them as they are.

Though his mind hurts to think about treating them any less humanely than he is now.

"You--" Roget places a hand against Red's chest, "--are not a child, nor a human, and have no permission to speak to me using my real name. You are a specimen, and nothing else."

Without another word, Roget forces Red into the room of his brothers and slams the door shut. For the first time in several months, the door is fully locked.

The Shadow licks his teeth clean of blood, pondering on what shame the title "specimen" puts him under. The other science-men perhaps think of him as a "specimen," but that does not mean he is actually just one, right? Cannot he still dance? Cannot he still sing? Cannot he still do whatever it is that he desires, and not be stopped?

His brothers both race over to him when he enters the room. "What happened?" asks Chris, peering at him. "What did he make you do?"

"Did it hurt? Was it awful?" Blake grasps his hand. "Do you need help?"

Red pulls himself away from the two. His face, forgetful of what he has just been called, splits into a devious smile. "It was wonderful," he murmurs. "Absolutely wonderful."

They look shocked, Christopher slightly moreso. "What... do you mean?"

Red fingers the small incisions in his horns. "Quin-- or, Dr. Roget allowed me to kill something."

Blake shrivels. The idea of physically harming another living thing must resonate within him. Clearly, he is not made perfectly for the purposes of the military. "You... killed something?"

The former Shadow nods his head. "Just a little creature. And-- and this is where I discovered something new-- it was afraid of me! Very afraid!"

Chris tilts his head. "But... but why was it afraid? You are not very threatening."

Red dusts off his hands, chuckling. In a mere instant, his two brothers see something in him change. Something about his horns. Something about the things that make him look demeaning.

They grow. They look taller. And the usually large, circular pupils in his eyes narrow in size. He seems, for a second, primal.

"It was afraid because it knew I could kill it." His voice is tainted with a laugh. "And I had. And you know what else I found?"

Blake shrugs his itty shoulders. "What?"

"It had blood."

"...Blood?" The quiet whimper comes from Chris.

"Yes. Blood." Red grins, his teeth glistening with the velvety liquid. "I could taste it. But-- but not just its blood. Its fear, too! I could taste its very fear!"

Christopher and Blake, no longer frightened by their brother (for he would never hurt them, and that they know above all things), step toward him, interested. "What did it taste like?" asks Chris. "Both of them?"

Red giggles. "Delicious!" He raises his voice, so much so that it echoes off the walls of the room and slithers ceremoniously into the hall. "Oh, I wish you could have been there to experience it!"

All goes quiet, again, as Red cannot take his mind off the taste of blood and as his siblings wonder about what it felt. None of them says a word until Blake finds the courage to speak up.

"Where does... blood... come from?"

The oldest brother wipes off his mouth, not ridding himself of the grin on his face. "It comes from death," he whispers. "It sits inside when something is alive, and then, when something dies, it comes. Especially with the use of something sharp, I think."

"Like claws?" asks Chris.

"Yes. Claws. Or teeth, perhaps."

"Does that mean..." Blake holds out his hand. With the strength in him, he unsheathes his claws, sharpened black talons that glow a terrifying shade in the light. He looks at them, stares at them, considering for what purpose they were created-- and for what purpose he was created. "...we would have kill something to get blood?"

Red folds his arms. "Yes."

They ponder. They would have to find something to kill, and kill it, and receive both blood and fear, which undoubtedly are as fantastic as their brother describes. They would enjoy and savor the taste. They would fulfill the purpose of their creation.

Now, they want to kill.

Chris and Blake watch Red's face closely. Something is different about him. He no longer looks childish, or excited, or theatrically dramatic or mischievous as he usually does. He looks more mature, strangely. He looks...

He looks malevolent. He looks evil.

*Part 5 coming soon...*