8. Nothing Else Matters.

The target, already heavily drugged, lay motionless on the stretcher. Sark carefully observed the subject, noting their medicated state. The faint scent of antiseptic lingered in the air as he conducted neurological tests, confirming the subject's ability to withstand the upcoming journey.

As they arrived at their destination, an old castle or monastery, the ancient stone walls whispered stories of the past. The facility's disguise was flawless, blending seamlessly into its surroundings. 

With precision, the subject was transferred to an enzyme treatment room. The metallic tang of medical equipment filled the air as the subject's liver underwent platinization. Time stood still as Sark patiently awaited the completion of the procedure.

The subject would soon undergo a series of tissue samples and imaging tests, their body a canvas for scientific exploration. Sark, withholding any medication, sought to unravel the mystery of the drug coursing through the subject's veins.

The researchers delicately removed a brace from the subject, their actions accompanied by the soft hum of machinery. As they scanned the subject, remnants of jelly still clung to the intestines and abdominal cavity, evidence of past sedation. Sark, familiar with medical procedures, questioned the efficacy of the clumsy jelly, knowing that its dosage had to be carefully monitored.

In this clandestine world, where truth and deception intertwined, Sark pressed forward, determined to uncover the secrets hidden within the subject's drugged state.

I could feel the metallic taste of fear in my mouth as I realized my liver had been platinized. The shackles digging into my wrists were spiked, causing a sharp, painful sensation with every movement. The sterile smell of the medical establishment enveloped me once again, its antiseptic scent mingling with the faint hint of blood in the air.

As we had driven with Bran, I was dazed and drugged, barely aware of my surroundings. Unbeknownst to me, we were being followed, and our house had likely been under surveillance for quite some time. Anger surged within me, fueled by the realization of Bran's obliviousness. Luck was clearly not on my side. Bran was not very bright when he didn't notice that we were followed. 

The effects of the jelly that had numbed my senses wore off after a week. Sark, the one responsible for my torment, refused to drug me further. My tissues struggled to heal, and he had discovered some kind of enzyme blocker in the tissue samples. I had no doubt that my liver was still numb, unresponsive to any attempts at restoration.

Mimosa, my companion, was asleep again; her slumber was a mystery to me. I don't know what drug had put her to sleep. The researchers forcefully dragged me back into the cold, metallic cage, turning on the blinding lamp. I contorted my body, changing shape repeatedly, desperate to escape the torment. But no matter how much I writhed and convulsed, nothing changed. I was trapped in this cycle of pain and experimentation.

Then, it moved on to other little experiments. They presented me with 145 new ways to end my life, but none of them succeeded. I kept coming back, defying their attempts to extinguish me. As an ultimate act of cruelty, they sewed a bomb inside me, causing excruciating pain as each piece exploded, only to be painstakingly reassembled.

After those torturous experiments, they subjected me to different drugs. Ointments of varying strengths were applied, resulting in multiple rashes, burns, sores, and necrotic skin. Then came the antibiotics, indiscriminately causing vomiting, diarrhea, blood diseases, and relentless headaches. The symptoms seemed endless, a never-ending onslaught on my fragile existence.

I had lost track of time in this hellish place, but knew I wasn't alone. Stretchers passed by my room, carrying motionless figures shrouded in blood-stained sheets. It was a haunting sight, a constant reminder of the suffering endured by others like me. And I couldn't get to my rage. Oh, I hated Bran. I really did.

But one night, fueled by a surge of strength, I managed to break free from the barbed shackles. Weak and trembling, I navigated the dimly lit corridors, desperately searching for an escape route. However, I soon realized that the guards were hot on my heels, their heavy footsteps echoing ominously in the silence.

A tranquilizer dart pierced my skin, and I felt my body succumbing to its sedative effects. Defeated, I collapsed onto the cold, hard floor, my vision blurred. Through the haze, I caught a glimpse of Sark, his distinctive brown shoes, and his confident stride. He looked at me with a sadistic smile, taunting me with the promise of further entertainment.

The guards effortlessly lifted my limp body and carried me into yet another room. Inside, a two-way mirror stood as a chilling barrier between me and the patient bed, a symbol of the never-ending cycle of suffering and despair.

There was a woman lying on the sterile hospital bed, her face contorted in pain. An intravenous line was inserted into her arm, delivering a steady flow of medication. Across the room, an examiner bent over her leg, which was exposed and vulnerable. I couldn't help but cringe at the sight.

Sark, a sinister figure, explained coldly, "Here you witness the installation of a new nerve implant. This woman has functional nerves, but we need to train these new intelligence implants. They are fitted like regular ones, but on healthy subjects so that they can learn from normal nerve functions."

As Sark continued his explanation, I noticed the woman's body tense up with every word he spoke. The implant was sending its own electric shocks, still learning the appropriate power. It was evident that the process was far from perfect, as the shocks hit too forcefully, causing the woman to wince in pain. Yet, she was not an ordinary human; her supernatural blood gave her a heightened resilience.

With the implant in place, the woman was administered a drug that induced muscle spasms. The purpose was to provide the implant with data as her legs involuntarily twitched. I was instructed to observe her closely, knowing deep down that I wouldn't be making any progress in helping her escape this torment.

Suddenly, the woman turned her head towards me, her eyes filled with fear and desperation. It felt like an icy claw gripped my heart, a chilling sensation sending shivers down my spine. Ruby, dear Ruby, deserved a normal life, not to be trapped in Sark's clutches.

Sark's voice cut through the air, his threat palpable: "Remember this, insignificant flea. Every member of your organization is my target, whether they are still active or long gone." He walked away, leaving behind an aura of malevolence.

Hours passed, and I remained bound to a chair, my senses overwhelmed by the scene unfolding before me. Ruby's agonized screams pierced the air, echoing through the sterile walls. The drug-induced spasms made her leg jerk uncontrollably, causing the implant to strike randomly. I winced as I witnessed a burn mark forming on her skin, evidence of the implant's excessive force.

At that moment, something inside me stirred, awakening my dormant power. My willpower surged back, and I realized I had lost track of time, my surroundings becoming a blur. The metallic taste of fear lingered in my mouth as I realized the extent of the torture I had endured, my body weak and my spirit tested.

They performed various procedures on Ruby, the sterile scent of the hospital filling the air. A cannula was inserted into my liver and my abdomen, through which they extracted enzymes, the whir of the machine echoing in the room. Day by day, I could feel a surge of power coursing through me, not my rage but my willpower and newfound alpha energy, though I couldn't quite grasp or comprehend it fully.

In the dark of night, consumed by frustration, I unleashed my fury upon the double-sided glass, kicking it with all my might. Determined to help Ruby, I roused her from her slumber, her body weak and frail. Offering her my blood, a wave of healing washed over her. With renewed strength, I kicked open the door, our escape imminent. Together, we scurried down the dimly lit corridors, my strides infused with this newfound power.

Ruby glanced at me, concern etched on her face. "Flea, you look terrible. Let me support you," she said earnestly.

I dismissed her worries, knowing that appearances could deceive her. "Looks can't fool us. Come on, we must keep moving," I urged her, the urgency in my voice clear.

Pressing on, the blaring alarms filled the facility, amplifying the surrounding chaos. I searched desperately for a haven, but the guards swarmed us relentlessly, their guns firing shots into the air.

As we turned a corner, a guard emerged, his weapon trained on Ruby. Reacting instinctively, I positioned myself between them. The deafening sound of the gunshot pierced the air, and a searing pain shot through my back. The bullet had pierced my heart, passing through my lean frame, but its forceful impact affected both of us. Falling to the floor, I rolled off Ruby, the wound at her heart clear. The approaching guards swiftly separated us, their footsteps growing louder. I saw Ruby's closed eyes; I couldn't hear her heart beating. 

A sharp sting jolted through my arm as they injected me with an unknown substance. My mind became hazy, confusion clouding my thoughts. The line between reality and illusion blurred, leaving me in a state of uncertainty. I hoped Ruby had reunited with Sapphire. Amidst the chaos, I thought I heard someone mention that Ruby was still alive, but deep down, I knew it wasn't true. Darkness engulfed me, and I succumbed to its embrace, the pain and uncertainty fading away.

I awoke to the harsh reality of spiked handcuffs, feeling utterly disoriented. The drugs coursing through my veins distorted my perception, making it difficult to gather my thoughts. Waves of pain surged through my body, tormenting every inch of my being as relentless scientists invaded my space. They probed and prodded, dissecting me with a disturbing curiosity.

The presence of Sark occasionally registered, his voice a mere echo amidst the chaos, but I couldn't decipher his words. Time had slipped away, leaving me in an abhorrent state of disrepair, my once unbridled rage now suppressed. I recalled Bran administering another dose of Rage blocker, ensuring my suffering would be prolonged. Desperate to escape, I fought against the restraints whenever possible, sprinting through the sterile corridors, but without my primal fury, I was just a tormented creature fueled by drugs. And inevitably, I was always apprehended. 

Eventually, Sark escorted me to the sterile operating room, its blindingly bright lights casting harsh shadows on the cold, stainless steel surfaces. The sterile scent of disinfectant hung in the air, mingling with the acrid smell of fear that permeated the room.

With clinical precision, Sark administered a potent muscle relaxant, causing my body to go limp. As he made the incision, the sound of the surgical tools cutting through flesh filled the room, accompanied by the low hum of machinery in the background.

"Now," Sark's voice echoed, filled with sadistic glee, "I'm going to implant 28 bombs inside you. Each one was adorned with the same beautiful silver from the ship. Some contain other metals like iridium, vanadium, rhodium, cobalt, platinum, and gold. If you dare to flee, these bombs will detonate, one after the other, ensuring your capture."

He continued, his voice cold and detached, "These bombs will activate when you are 10 meters away from any exit. They will be your constant reminder of the consequences of defiance. There's so much more I want to experiment with that silver on you, but for now, you'll be confined to another room. We can't risk anyone stumbling upon you."

As the surgery progressed, I felt a deep ache in my organs; the pain intensified by the presence of the platinum-laced liver. It was as if my body's healing abilities had been systematically nullified, leaving me vulnerable and helpless. The torment of the bombs pulsated through every inch of my being, a constant reminder of the imminent danger. The surgery was not painless, as muscle relaxants only immobilized me, not giving any pain relief.

Sark meticulously placed each bomb, ensuring they were within 20 centimeters of each other. Their presence alone was suffocating, their motion sensors ready to detonate if tampered with. These bombs were armed, primed to unleash their deadly power.

"Oh, how these bombs are the latest invention. You are just a perfect subject, as you can't die. Detonation is not so powerful, and as you can see, these are smaller than golf balls, like big marbles. But they are very effective; three bombs have the same amount of nitrogen silver as what I gave you into the ship, which is very absorbing. " Sark remarked, a sadistic amusement lacing his words.

He moved me onto a stretcher, and with the investigators in tow, we descended into the basement. The cell we arrived in was made of ancient stones, their rough surfaces exuding a bone-chilling coldness that seeped into my very core.

Clad in flimsy clothing that barely shielded me from the elements, I couldn't help but notice how much weight I had lost during the grueling nine weeks. Yet my anger remained elusive, unable to find an outlet for release. The constant agony of my liver gnawed at me, an almost paralyzing pain that consumed my every thought.

The sark's voice echoed in the dimly lit room, "Don't worry, you'll have company. We've had an intriguing time studying this creature. She's a bit wild, so she'll have to share a cell with you. Let's see what you do."

As the sark stepped back, unsettling noises filled the air, making my skin crawl. Two guards entered, their heavy footsteps reverberating on the cold floor. Between them, they dragged a frail figure, emitting grunts and yelps. When it lifted its head, I saw it was Ruby, a vampire.

The sark announced, "Congratulations, here is your first vampire offspring. She's fiercely rabid but a fascinating subject to study. She's immune to conventional vampire-killing methods, making her practically immortal."

Ruby was flung into the cell, and the thick iron door slammed shut with a resounding thud. Ruby lay on the ground, emitting low growls.

I approached her cautiously and said, "Ruby, I'm sorry. This wasn't my intention." She lifted her blood-red eyes, surrounded by black veins, and I continued, "Come on, feed on me. My blood is potent."

Extending my wrist, Ruby attacked, sinking her teeth into my flesh. She drank for what felt like an eternity, her grip tightening. After ten minutes, she released her hold, her eyes returning to normal, and let out a sigh before drifting into slumber.

As I sat there, I pondered our dire situation. We needed help desperately, but the bombs within me served as a constant reminder of the trials imposed by Sark. When Ruby awoke, I offered her more of my blood. However, the combination of medications and unknown substances within me stunned her significantly. While my blood typically acted as sleeping pills for ordinary vampires, I doubted Ruby possessed the same level of immortality. Nevertheless, she was here now, and I did everything in my power to aid her.