The Beast Within

The world seemed to be in a dreamlike state. Everything was spinning wildly out of control as he yanked the IV needles painfully out of the crook of his arm. He sat up, ignoring the nurses that ran over to push him back down onto the sterile bed. At the moment he didn’t care what gender they were, he was getting out of there, no matter how blurry his vision got.
A red light above the door that would lead him to his freedom began spinning brightly, signaling he had tripped an alarm. If there was a siren Riley didn’t hear it; it was like he had been plunged under water, the pressure building in his ears. He stumbled to the door, shoving the girls aside who tried to get in his way.
Before he could make his escape the door slammed open. He was shoved back and tackled to the ground, pinned, and a needle shoved into his bicep. He instantly went limp, his head lolling to the side.
“They’re all losing control” a nurse shrieked, huddled in a corner terrified.
A young, comely man wearing a white lab coat named Peter walked into the room and stood above Riley. He puffed out a heavy sigh.
“I know” he said, barely grazing a whisper. His eyes filled with sorrow and regret as he gazed down at Riley’s unconscious form “Get back to work. We’ll take care of him”
The two other men in the room hauled Riley up and dragged him out, heading down to the room known as the Containment Room for all failed experiments.
“His face…” the nurse muttered as Peter left “It was like a demon…”

The drugs in Riley’s bloodstream must have been wearing off through the hours that he was passed out. When he opened his eyes he was not blinded by the bright lab lights he had become so accustomed to. Instead the room was darker, with only a corner of light that came from a work lamp on a small desk scattered with papers and files. Sitting at the desk was his Owner or so they had referred to him as when he first arrived.
Riley watched Peter as he filled out different forms of paper work, scratching a big “X” on the file in his hands, Riley’s file.
“Well” he slammed the papers on the wobbly desk “You were a total waste of time” he sighed, snapping his gloves into place. “And here I thought I might not have a failure this time” He began checking Riley’s vitals as he always had done before.
It was then Riley realized he was strapped to a metal table wearing a patient’s gown. A number tag was attached to his big toe, as if he were already a corpse laying in the morgue.
“Please” Riley let out in a hoarse whisper in desperation. He didn’t want to die; he feared dying, especially like this.
Peter sighed “I have my job, whether I like it or not” he walked to a table where sharp surgeon tools lay sprawled. He chose a scalpel and walked back to Riley. Cutting out a piece of flesh from his forearm and placing it into a little glass forensic slide.
Riley flinched, struggling against the straps, his heart rate increasing until the machine could hardly keep up. He watched with wide eyes as Peter set the scalpel back on the table and came back with a syringe filled with a clear liquid.
Now Riley became desperate, thrashing on the table; fury overcoming his whole body. No. After all the tortures these people had put him through, he wasn’t going to go down without a fight.
An inhuman roar shook the room, it was almost animal like. The straps holding Riley down suddenly snapped like thin rubber bands and he was off the table in a moment. He flipped the table at his Owner, thrusting him back into a wall. Grabbing the dropped syringe from the floor he sauntered to Peter sadistically. He jammed the needle into his chest and let the liquid push into his heart. Peter screamed in agony before silencing for good.
Riley rose from his crouched position and ran for the door with blinding speed. He sprinted down the hall throwing away anything that got in his way. He was on the top floor, to get outside he’d have to take the elevator or the stairs. Like that was going to happen. He ran straight for the glass window at the end of the hall. Crashing through it he landed in the grass perfectly on his feet. Taking off into the surrounding woods he disappeared into the night.
“Sir” a women officer said, looking out into the darkness through the shattered remains of the window, standing next to a man with graying hair and an official looking badge on his breast pocket.
“Kill it” he replied bluntly with no emotion. And with those two words, the hunt was on.