One hand immediately snatched the radio, “Jack! It’s a trap!”

  “Ian!” Jack stuttered, “Trap?! Wh-“

  “Just get out! Now!”

  Snapping the Sten to the hip, he opened fire.

  Sparks pinged off metal shelves, getting the Nyúlfur to dive aside. “Move it!” Ian barked, spinning towards the doors, hoping the guard had the sense to run.

  Bastard wi-

  He couldn’t finish the thought. Passing the end of the shelves, he snapped the gun back around.

  The Nyúlfur charged towards him, canines flashing as he aimed.

  He pulled the trigger.

  A dull click rang out.

  Shit!

  Something snatched at his jacket. Instinct demanded he yank himself back, but his feet kicked only air as his whole body lurched over to the left.

  He blinked.

  He sailed into metal with an almighty crash, his shoulder screamed along with him as something gave out. A boom resounded in his ears as his head snapped back onto something solid. His vision swam, the lights a blur above his head as his entire body throbbed. W-What the fu-

  “G-Get off me you mutt!”

  “You can shut your trap.”

  Quickly shaking his head, the lights sharpened back into focus. His skull pounding, he weakly hefted his head up. One of the units lay battered on the floor, his legs sprayed on top of it in a heap. D-Did he just throw me through the shelves?!

  The Nyúlfur stood by the doors, one hand clamped on the guard’s uniform and holding the man up against the wall. The young man’s eyes were wide, his legs desperately kicking out into nothing as he clawed at, yet not quite reaching the werewolf’s face. “Decided quitting your job, hmm?” The Nyúlfur questioned, a snarl stretching across his jaws. The guard’s head blurred, frantic. “No no! I-I was trying to warn you!”

  The snarl morphed into a cold smirk, “Then why run?”

  His head turned, “I suppose you want him alive Doc?”

  The German doctor stepped into view, back still turned towards Ian. “I have little need for failures. Do what you wish.”

  The guard’s eyes widened even more as a ‘brow’ rose on the Nyúlfur’s face. “Not even for your little experiments?”

  “I already recognise him from the records. He offers nothing to the Initiative. Consider him all yours.”

  A cursed smile slipped ever wider as the Nyúlfur turned to face the struggling guard, one hand reaching over his shoulder. With a near-silent ring, a silver sword emerged from over a scabbard on his back.

  Ian’s heart missed a beat, a shiver running down his neck. No…

  The guard’s hands grasped onto the Nyúlfur’s own; fingers frantic to pry himself free as his legs spasmed in the air. “P-Please!” he begged, “I-I’m still useful! Just give me a chance!”.

  The Nyúlfur cocked his head, the sword hanging loose by his side. “You know… I can think of a use for you right now.” He noted.

  The guard blinked, his desperate spasms ceasing. “T-There is?”

  “Oh, of course.” The Nyúlfur replied, the smile widening again.

  With a short, simple flick of his arm, the sword pierced the guard’s chest.

  Ian couldn’t stop the gasp rushing out, his limbs at last beginning to respond as he slid back. The guard opened his mouth to scream, but nothing came save for a spurt of blood and a half-strangled wheeze. He twitched violently, then his eyes rolled back, and the body went limp.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Ian’s eyes flicked from left to right, prying for some kind of weapon.

  The SMG lay discarded on the ground across from him. Got you…

  Flipping over, Ian crawled towards the gun. A dull thud reached his ears. Come on…

  Footsteps pounded. He reached out…

  “Forget it.” The Nyúlfur growled.

  A wolfish foot swung in, booting the gun out of reach. Ian’s head snapped up.

  Something cracked. The world spun around him before the lights greeted him again. It felt like a buzz saw was cutting away at his jaw as he tried to gulp air down, but a vice clamped down onto his throat. He clawed at it, only thick fur giving any indication that the arm was there. The pounding in his skull boomed louder, the world shifting again as he was yanked back up. Can’t b… get out!

  Hefted up, the Nyúlfur drifted back into view. Blue eyes shone as his lips peeled back once more, tasting the victory – and beginning to drown Ian in defeat.

  “Nice try.” He admitted, an inkling of respect creeping out as the silver blade rose beside him. Crimson dripped off the tip. “But you’re still dead.”

  Ian snarled, lashing out with his legs, hands clawing for grip on something.

  The sword drifted back. No! I-I wo-

  “No.”

  The blade froze.

  The doctor stood behind the Nyúlfur. Under the light of the room, a pair of blue eyes scanned Ian as if he were under the microscope. The corner of his mouth twitched, “I believe we have a new subject, Travis.”

  Travis?! He doesn’t mean…

  The Nyúlfur – Travis – glanced round at the human doctor, the smile flipping over into a grimace. “You can live with one less lab rat.” He uttered, eyes locking back onto Ian. “This one might be too much for your lapdogs to handle.”

  His vision darkened, the hand tightening around his neck. Ian’s eyes snapped onto Travis. “Too… afr..aid?”

  The blade rushed forward, and Ian nearly squirmed again as he felt the tip bite into his neck. “Want to say that again?” the wolf hissed, as a faint warmth started to flow along Ian’s skin.

  “Now now, Travis.” Purred the German, a hand adjusting his glasses. “He might be the key to getting to the next stage. Logic demands additional resources and as you thoughtfully pointed out… he does have a few amendable qualities does he not?”

  Something squeaked, followed by the drum of boots against ground as the doctor stepped forward. “What is your name?”

  Ian glared at the doctor, rage burning in his chest. Demanding to be released.

  Or perhaps it was the air.

  “W-Why?” he choked.

  Travis’s grip tightened. Ian could only squeak, as what little air remained dwindled. “Is there a point to this?” Travis questioned.

  “Because we have an arrangement.” The doctor replied as black armoured figures sprinted past. Assault rifles cold and dark in their hands as they raced towards the storeroom doors. A trio peeled away to drift behind the doctor, faces set as stone under black helmets.

  A low rumble emanated from Travis, but the vice loosened and a whisper of air crept in.

  “Ian.” He hissed out, keeping his gaze fixed on the doctor. His fingers twitched, the picture of them wrapping around one of their throats giving him something to cling to.

  “Very well Ian.” The doctor tilted his head, voice hinting a little bit of courtesy. “You should take comfort in the fact that your contribution to the Initiative may change the world.”

  “If you count being a lab rat that Hagen.” Travis mused.

  Ian squirmed in the Nyúlfur’s grip, “I’m… not going to be one…”

  The vice vanished.

  He came crashing down like a sack of bricks, spluttering as air raced back in. “Looks like you’ve not got much choice.” the Nyúlfur replied with a low chuckle. “Now, mind if I go catch the rats?”

  “Granted.” The doctor – Hagen – replied.

  “Don’t expect me to give them a free pass though.” Travis declared. “I can’t promise they won’t be target practice.”

  Arms protesting, Ian shoved himself up to his knees. His chest burned as the air circulated back through. But he steadied himself, his breathing slowing as he glared back up at the two. A pair of white-dressed individuals stepped into view; lab coats just as crisp as Hagen’s.

  “If… if you hurt any of them…” Ian grunted, burning eyes locking onto the two figureheads, “I will kill you…”

  Travis erupted into laughter, not cackling like a witch or demon but instead as if he had just seen a friend make a fool of himself. The normalcy of it threw a new weight on top of the young human. “Feel free to try ape.” He replied, tossing in a wink. “It would be the last thing you ever see though.”

  Ian bared his teeth, “We’ll see about that!”

  He huffed back, “If you make it through the doc’s tests, let me know. Otherwise…” he dipped into a mock bow, backing off, “I’ll leave you with these monkeys.”

  More soldiers stepped forward, concealing the Nyúlfur from view and unhooking batons from their belts. Hagen hung behind them; arms placed behind him, watching on like some kind of vulture. “Avoid damaging him.”

  They stepped forward, stretching out as a wall to box him in.

  Ian lunged forward.

  The baton slammed into one hand as Ian’s free fist went straight upwards. The guard’s chin cracked as he was sent staggering back. Movement flashed to his right, and he spun round to catch the second baton mid-strike.

  The third whipped his back, and Ian cried out as his legs gave out from beneath him. As pins jabbed at his back, someone grabbed hold of his right arm. Then the other. He tugged and pulled, but his arms might as well have been locked in chains. “Get off me!”

  One of the lab coats stepped forward, pulling out a syringe. Sense returned to his legs and he snapped out a kick. He didn’t see the scientist fall, but his cry still echoed in his ears as he was forced to the ground.

  He squirmed, his arms and then his legs pinned to Earth. He cried out, desperate to rip himself free. To run for it and get out alive.

  I’m not going to be an experiment! I’ll get out! I-

  Something pricked at his neck.

  Confusion transformed into realisation. He willed himself to break free.

  But his limbs were already numbing.

  As his vision went black, the last thing he heard was the gunshots and a single, distant scream.