Prologue

It was a cold night, not freezing but chilly enough to not need a jacket. The wind breathed it's heavy sigh on the walls of a large building. It's foundation was massive, large and bulky. A thick fence surrounded it, highly charged with electricity. In the sky the moon hung it's head sorrowfully, waiting for it's vigil to end.

On the inside of the building, however was where I lay. I couldn't move my arms; they where strapped tightly to the table, my legs as well.

The fear of reality pulsed through my body. I had known this day was coming. They had been testing me, prepping me. They hoped I would not be a failure. I knew, deep down, I was getting out.

I knew, even deeper, I would rather die than be here. And die, I may.

Many died where I was. Many died even after this. No one was fated to leave this place unscathed.

A small smiled played at my lips as thoughts of pretty ladies danced through my head. I knew this was not the time to think about it... I tried to ignore the feeling of dread that ran through me. It was a nail through my damn hand, not easily forgotten.

Pretty ladies...

Pretty ladies...

Pretty lad-

A whirring snapped my eyes to the right. A thin arm, metallic and frail looking extended. It held a red syringe.

Closing my eyes, I let out my breath I knew I was done. I knew my time was up. I wanted out. I fought the bindings, my muscled arms straining against the tight leather. The leather didn't budge a bit, and with a long, painful breath in and out I never let my muscles un-tence. I was done. So, so done.

The syringe entered my neck.

Have you ever stubbed your toe? It hurts, that's for sure. It's the kind of pain you feel will never end, but when it does, you feel relief. Well, what about getting a pricked on a needle? How about the pain of burning your tongue and throat on some really hot coffee? I'm sure you have never felt as if every single blood cell in your body was that hot coffee, being pumped through your veins, getting hotter by the second. The pain, unlike a stubbed toe, lingers much longer, and it felt as if a million needles where constantly moving in and out of every pore on my body, moving back and fourth, side to side, deeply carving into my bones, and just grazing them.

To say the least, I had screamed. It was the scream of fear and pain. I felt my back arch up, I was trying to get rid of the pain with any way necessary, moving this way and that. I pulled at my restrains this time, and I felt them begun to give away under my wrists. As my ankle bindings snapped with my wrist ones, I felt myself flip over. The pain in my body had intensified and I clawed at the table. Leaving marks, I saw my nails had grown long and thick, sharp as a razor.

The sight didn't register to me though. I continued to scream, a blood curtailing sound that made my lungs and throat hurt from pure rawness. Not that they didn't hurt already. The hot coffee sensation had turned to lava, the lava to something that must be hotter than lava. I panted and I heard my gown rip. Blood coated the walls, floor, glass and me.

Almost comically, or sadistically, little window wipers came out and began to clean off the mirrors on one side of the room. I knew, they where watching me scream. Enjoying it, writing their little notes, nodding and grinning like the maniacs they where. Hiding behind their glasses and lab coats.

I looked over at the mirror, my eyes filled with hate, with fire. I had some strength now, I could grit my teeth against the pain. I felt the new things on my back. The membranes thick with muscles, covered in my own deep crimson, like the rest of the once all-white room. Save for the observation wall that had been equipped with windsheild wipers. The times in this room I had spent earlier, I had ways wondered what part they played on the one sided glass.

I panted, my arms holding the top of my body up. My backside was still limp on the back of the table. The fire had subsided to a full throbbing, and the needles in my pores had ceased to move, although still present.

My eyes were filled to the brim with hate as I looked over at my reflection in the mirror.

I saw my new appendages. Although covered in crimson, I could see my wings where black, with red membranes. Out of the backside of my gown a thin black membrane that could be a cable hung of the table. The point on the end flicked slightly with my irrability.

No way was I getting chicks with a freaking tail.

My brown hair had turned red and my hazel eye and Emerald green. The other was still glazed over an white.

For reasons unknown to me, I had been born completely blind in that eye. The white eye glinted in the reflective surface as I bared my teeth at the people I knew where behind that wall. Fangs, demonic and dripping with saliva shown back at me, malevolent and dark. Slowly, I was able to twist my body and place my bare feet on the cool, white, blood splattered floor. The blood from my wings dripped from everywhere. I could feel them behind me, and tucked them close to my back. Taking slow, careful steps forward I moved towards the mirror. When I had finally arrived, I pulled my fist back, claws extended. My anger at the world, this facility and my new

Form boiled in my still throbbing, slightly on-fire veins.

Before I released my anger, anguish and pain on the mirror, the one way glass, The observation window that held all of my enemies on the other side, I felt another needle enter my neck, empty it's contents, and leave. I turned my head to where it had attacked me. The penetration of of the needle had not been painful at all. It was a mere tickle to the pain I had felt before, moments ago. My hand clamped around the frail metal arm and syringe, crushing them to bits before falling to the ground, unconscious.