Pearl of Blood

Everything was silent in the room, none of the wall-to-wall computers and data monitors made a single hum. Amid the quiet steel room were three people, all in white coats with clipboards in hand. In front of them was a one-way mirror that divided the already small room. The three in white had their attention fixated on a slumped figure across from them on the other side of the glass. For a long few minutes, neither side moved. Finally, one of the white coats lifted a hand. In response, a very faint click was heard, barely on the edge of hearing.

The white coats were all now on edge, leaning forward slightly in nervous anticipation. After a very long minute, the person in the glass-divided room started to stir, their head lifting up, though ragged black bangs still hid their eyes from view. Then they shifted again, this time into a crouched position. Holding that pose for a few seconds, the white coats could see the muscles contract, like some massive cat ready to pounce on unsuspecting prey. Like a bolt of lightning, the next instant had the white coats scrambling back as the person inside the other half slammed hard against the one-way mirror. A loud screech broke the silence, the person trying to physically claw out of the barrier. For a few harrowing moments, the actions continued, alternating between the slamming and screeching until exhaustion finally seemed to kick in and it fell silent once more.

Stepping closer to look in, the white coats saw the person in there trembling, shoulders heaving in a sign of panting for breath. Lifting a hand, there was another faint click, and the person in the room slowly sank back to the floor. Quickly writing some notes on their clipboards, the white coats turned their backs on the one-way mirror and started to walk away, whispering amongst themselves.

Today’s results showed they were on the right path. They just needed to fine tune the process.

~ > ~ < ~ > ~ <

Soft chimes sounded throughout the building, the normally pleasant melody sparking an air of excitement. That chime meant they had a live specimen for their test subject of choice.

Four years after the initial test with the person in the enclosed room, the project had expanded to now include six others, all making good strides.

Today was a live showing of their progress to every scientist in the lab of what they had been working on.

In the basement was a newly built colosseum, surrounded on all sides by bullet-proof glass, protecting the ones watching from an accidental rampage. There were two doors on opposite sides within the colosseum, both made from thick, sturdy iron bars and the floor was made of polished steel, something easy to wipe up and clean with the right chemicals.

As the seats began to fill, one of the doors opened and a muscular young man was shoved into the open arena before shutting with a loud clang. Stumbling, the man fell on his hands and knees as the onlookers began to grow more excited. For them, this was the ultimate moment, the one all their research and experiments had led up to.

From the other side of the arena, the second door opened as another person came shambling out, almost woodenly. To all appearances, the person who came out looked sickly, their skin pasty and it seemed as though they barely had the muscle strength to stand upright, let alone walk. Their thick mane of black hair covered their eyes, dull and frayed, the strands going in all directions. As the door shut behind the newcomer, the muscular man scoffed and started towards the seemingly scrawny being that had appeared before him.

Seeing an easy target in his eyes, the young man rolled his shoulders before pulling back an arm and landing a solid punch to the weaker being’s head, sending the other sprawling on the steel floor. Wanting to finish it quick, the muscular man went over and landed a powerful kick to the other’s head, a vicious smirk on his face when he saw the edge of his shoe come back bloody from managing to break the other’s nose. Blood darkened the corners of the scrawny person’s mouth, and this close up, the muscular man could see that he was indeed fighting another male, something that had been harder to tell at a distance from the horrid state of their being.

Slowly, the thin male brought his arms under him, a pale tongue peeking slightly as he licked at the corners of his mouth. He couldn’t smell it like he had four years ago in that room thanks to his now broken nose, but there was no mistaking the coppery taste. And as blood continued to trickle into his mouth his heart started pounding in his ears.

He needed it.

He craved it.

But his body didn’t have enough.

No, he needed to find a fresh source.

The one with him would do quite nicely for that.

Clenching his hands into fists, he pushed himself up, now with a determination behind his movements as he turned around. He saw the muscular man blink in disbelief that he was still able to move. Funny, even when he hadn’t had to fight for his food, they always had that expression. Faintly, he could hear the crowd around him start to realize what was about to happen, their excitement even seeming to phase through the glass to reach them.

The muscular man was clueless, however, as to what was about to happen. Stalking forward the larger of the two pulled back a fist for another punch.

Everything seemed to slow down in that moment. The thin male shifted slightly to the side to avoid the punch, almost feeling like it was nothing more than a short breeze against his sun-deprived skin. Reaching out a hand of his own, he dug his ragged and unkempt nails into the brute’s arm, managing to pierce the skin enough to draw out more of the precious blood he craved. In the back of his mind, he could recognize the howl of pain the other gave, only managing to tear his arm away by leaving long ragged claw marks in the process.

Blood now flowed freely onto the steel floor, leaving dark spots of the precious liquid as a trail while the muscular man staggered away in horror.

Why did they do that? Didn’t they know that emotions like fear and horror and panic tainted the taste of the blood? Perhaps they didn’t understand how inevitable it was that they would die here, and that’s what led to it, or maybe it was something normal humans possessed.

Lifting a hand, the sinewy male began to lick his hand clean of the blood that covered it. Only slightly tainted, but it was better than nothing.

It wasn’t anywhere near enough, though.

The muscular man staggered back another few steps when he saw the other licking the blood from his hand. After it was seemingly deemed clean enough by the zombie-like monster, his eyes caught sight of the thinner man’s. He had seen some odd colored eyes in his time, but never anything like the crimson blood red that almost seemed to glow from under the wild mess of hair on his head. Not wanting any part of this fight against a monster, the muscular man turned and ran for the door he had been shoved out of, slamming into the bars and calling out for someone to get him out of there.

No sooner had the words left his mouth, however, they were choked off. For a few seconds, his entire body went numb before a sudden wave of pain spread out from his torso, far worse than any gunshot wound he had ever been given in a gang war. Slowly, he looked down to see a pale hand curved into his stomach, blood swelling out around the intrusion. How had someone like that moved so quickly? The last thing he heard was a faint, muffled cheer go up from the onlookers before everything went black and he dropped to the ground.

Pulling his hand free of the other’s stomach, the man lifted it and gave it a tentative lick, fully expecting the acrid tang of horror to permeate the taste of the blood. While it was still there, there was another note, one that added a light sweetness to its flavor, some new emotion that he wasn’t familiar with. And yet, this one was the next best tasting batch he had. The only other one that was better was when his prey had been drugged before they were brought to him.

And, unlike the other times, this one was all his.

That fact alone sent him into a frenzy, as he crouched, using his fingernails to claw and tear the wound in the dead man’s stomach open wider, pulling out chunks of the nearest organ he could reach and shoving them in his mouth, not even caring to know what exactly he was grabbing in his blood-craze frenzy.

He hadn’t gotten more than a few mouthfuls before a sharp prick hit the back of his neck. Unable to swat it away for fear of dropping the precious bloodied meal he had earned, he soon found himself relaxing against his will. Of course, he should have known better than to believe this meal was his alone. At least he was sure he had the best and bloodiest parts to himself at this point as the drug-induced stupor washed over him and he blacked out.

~ > ~ < ~ > ~ <

They all started getting turns in the colosseum after that. Of course, he was always the first. One, the original test subject of the White Coats. Part of him couldn’t help but wonder where they got the blood-sacks from that they hunted, but the curiosity was usually pushed to the back of his mind. A bigger part wished they would actually let them finish eating before sending them back to their homes.

The cells that the experimental beings called home was gloomy, but over the years, it had been expanded. Now they had tables and a bed. He even remembered seeing one of the newer ones with a shelf of sorts that held swords on it. At one point when the colosseum fights became more common, he remembered being handed a blade, but he had no idea what to do with it, so he had just dropped it. His claws were better, anyways. It felt more natural to use them.

There were six cells that were always occupied anymore. Seven had resisted and had been deemed dangerous to the White Coats after one particular fight. Even now, he could still hear the other’s protest as they tossed Seven into his home. And anything that wasn’t a White Coat was killed upon entering his home. It was an unspoken rule of sorts among the others. This was their home and anything that came in was a trespasser and lost their rights.

Faint whimpers came from his left, drawing his attention. Despite the gloom and darkness, they could all see well down here. Three was curled in a ball on her bed, practically buried under the covers in what seemed to be a nightmare. She’d been having nightmares since it all started when the White Coats brought her in four years ago.

Turning away again, he looked over at where the door to the colosseum was. It felt like it had been ages since any of the White Coats came down for them. He was really starting to get hungry again.

From closer to the exit door, Five stirred and gave voice to a low growl. Out of all of them, Five had lost their humanity the quickest, easily embracing the animalistic side of what they had to do to survive. A few moments later, the door opened, and strange beings crept into the dark room hesitantly. They weren’t White Coats, they could all see that, but all of them had a faint scent of blood on them. Five slammed against the bars of his cell, causing the newcomers to jump slightly in surprise. Three awoke from her nightmare from the noise with a yelp, bolting off the bed. Two and Six were both pressed against the bars to their cells as well. Four was the only other one that didn’t move, probably too weak to after going this long without getting a chance to hunt.

Getting to his feet, he shambled over, leaning against the bars of his home as he watched the newcomers shuffle carefully around Five’s cell. Doing so put them closer to Six’s outstretched hands, and one of them got grabbed, pulling away with a howl as the scent of blood grew thick and heavy in the room. Six had managed to tear a mouthful from them it seemed as the crescent-shaped wound almost glowed in the darkness.

A few seconds of silence filled the room, some unspoken word passing along everyone’s minds before the world they knew exploded with sound. Everyone was clamoring for the fresh blood, though some part of his mind registered that Four was still motionless. The newcomers scrambled back out the door and it slammed shut behind them. It wasn’t until it was too late that he realized the soft hissing sound all but hidden behind the cries for blood of the others. One by one, they started falling silent and slumping over in their homes. It didn’t take long after Two and Three went down that he blacked out as well.

~ > ~ < ~ > ~ <

He didn’t know how long he was out, but eventually, he was aware that he was being carried by something. Through the cracks in his mostly closed lids, he could pick out Three being carried alongside him, though his back seemed to be to the others since she was the only one he saw.

It was brighter out, so his first thoughts were heading into the arena, but he soon struck that from his mind when he felt warmth on his skin, like being wrapped in a blanket. Even here, the scent of blood was pressing in around him, making his heart pound loudly in his ears. It still smelled fresh, meaning that whatever it was that happened had been recent.

Faintly, he could hear someone say something, but with the blood rushing through him, he couldn’t tell what it was they were talking about. He just knew that the voice was unfamiliar, not one of the White Coats that worked with them.

Letting his eyes open a bit more, he saw a group of people put Three into a container of some kind before shoving it into yet another, much larger, box. When they turned to him, he pushed himself out of the thick blanket he had been wrapped in to be carried here, staggering a bit.

He didn’t know why they were all out here, but he wouldn’t turn down a free meal after so long without.

Apparently him waking up hadn’t been planned for as the ones who had put Three in the boxes were shocked. It took a few seconds for them to snap out of their stupor and respond.

A few seconds too late.

His claws were perfect for this, he was used to close combat, something these newcomers clearly weren’t as they could only trip over themselves as he lashed out, clawing and tearing at anything in range. Flesh and clothes offered no protection against him and the scent of blood became nearly overpowering. He felt several burning and biting sensations, but his mind was too locked on the red haze of bloodlust to bother stopping.

It wasn’t until everything fell silent around him that he dropped to his knees, fatigue and pain warring within his body. Almost woodenly, he reached out to the nearest body and tore it open, sitting there and bathing in the scent and feel of fresh blood, before he reached out and started tearing chunks of flesh from his prey. One of his arms throbbed with every movement, as did his left leg, but that didn’t matter.

He was able to hunt and eat once more. He could live another day.

The sun was starting to set by the time he had eaten his fill of the bodies around him, the calming scent of blood growing colder and staler the longer he sat there. He couldn’t stay, that much he knew. If he went back, he’d starve to death. Looking around, he saw that the place they were in was little more than a clearing in some woods. He could build himself another home among the trees.

And anyone or anything who trespassed on new home would be more prey for him. Those were the rules he lived by. No reason to change that now.

Forcing himself to his feet, he staggered off, slipping into the woodlands that he would claim as his own.