Calvin lies on a soft mattress, feeling the relief of a nice surface for the first time in months. A blaring pain pumps in the right side of his brain as he clenches his eyes tightly shut. He soon opens them, groaning with his actions. White fills his vision. The walls, the bed, his clothes, are all white. At least it's better than the stone cold prison cell. He props himself up on his forearms, trying to get a clearer understanding of his surroundings. The railing of his bed is a light grey metal and he grips onto it, his weak muscles needing the extra support.

He draws his legs out from underneath the covers and notices a bandage wrapped around his left ankle. He reaches to touch it, though hesitates when the memories return He slowly climbs out of bed, his weak limbs collapsing underneath him straight away.

Calvin lays flat on the ground, his determination to figure out what happened fuelig him. He pushes himself off the ground and stumbles forward slightly though catching himself on the wall. He huffs and inches his way towards the white door with the help of the wall.

The door swings open and the sudden white stops and the dark grey Calvin is used to emerges. He looks down both directions of the hallway. When the coast is clear, he leaves the bland room and down the stone corridors. Once again, metal doors line the walls around him as he limps. Small lightbulbs from those cliché horror movies set in a basement lines the roofing.

Voices echo through the corridors. A drum replaces his heart and as the anxiety creeps its way in, all his senses heighten, almost like Spiderman when he sense something bad about to occur. Calvin speeds up slowly as he hasn't fully regained his strength yet. His feet slam against the stone as he runs. The voices increase in volume and Calvin catches snippets of their conversation.

"He's...only prominent..."

"We don't know...boy...of..."

"He's our ticket to success...after training, he could be sold...for...rich."

Calvin's breathing quickens and he speeds up, ignoring the begging in his thighs and calves. He rounds a corner and continues running. If he gets caught, then he's screwed. He doesn't want to stay here any longer.

"Where...he?" Someone shouts.

Calvin's personal punishment (Pushing too hard) fills his senses. Every ache, every breath, every jolting pain in his head, the freezing stone against his weak hand, the frost feeling flooring burning the soles of his feet and the wet streaks that run down his sickly pale skin. Why me? Calvin thinks to himself, absolutely devastated. He knows he was going to be used for personal gain and he'd rather have died from the experiment instead of live through the upcoming torture.

Before he knows it, he gets knocked to the ground, immediately blacking out.

~

The first thing that comes to Calvin's senses is the cold metal wrapped around his wrists and the warm air. He opens his eyes and finds himself staring at the ground. He draws his head up and once again, he's in a moulding stone room where everything is decaying slowly. His ankles have been tied to the legs of the chair and his wrists behind the chair. The only normal thing that Calvin notices is the hunger slowly filling his stomach.

The familiar Norwegian man and old guy walk into the room, both being relatively terrifying in nature. They stop in front of him and stare directly into his now orange-y brown eyes. Ravana bends down to stare at eye level with Calvin. His thin black eyes narrowing further.

"Your eyes... Are not a natural colour," Ravana states and stands back up, towering over the old man beside him. "This must be the effects of the bite. Record it."

Diabolos calmly pulls out a notepad and a pen and scribbles down the respective information. "What do you want," Calvin says hoarsely.

"Well, you are our only successful experiment. A large quantity of money can be gained by selling you," Diabolos says.

Calvin hisses. "You won't sell me."

Ravana rests his bony finger under his prisoners chin, raising his head to look directly at him. "Well we will. We own you."

Calvin twists his head to get Ravana's hand away from him. "No you don't. I own myself."

"We must begin his training right away," Diabolos butts in.

Ravana nods hesitantly before bending down and untying the ropes around his legs. Calvin immediately kicks the tall man in the face making him fall. Blood trickles down his hand as he covers his nose. His brows furrow and his ears redden with anger.

"How dare you!" He shouts, anger laced through every syllable.

Diabolos rests a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "We need you to cooperate with us or otherwise we'll have to take drastic measures in order to assure your alliance with the Teraculatious Testing Industry...Rav, you need to calm down as well."

"I'll never pledge allegiance to your fake industry. You disgust me," Calvin hisses and his fists clench.

Ravana stands up and pulls a shiny object out of his pocket. The side of the dagger shines in the light. He walks behind Calvin and puts the knife up to his throat. Calvin feels the urge to gulp though he puts it in the back of his mind. He strains his neck.

"Unlock the handcuffs, Diabolos. I've got my hands full," he orders. Keys rustle and get pushed into the lock in the handcuffs. Calvin soon feels his arms flopping to his sides. Ravana's breathing fills his ears.

Ravana presses the knife gently under his knife and Calvin follows his silent orders and stands up. Ravana presses his hand on his back and pushes him along, Diabolos trailing along. The door shuts behind the three as they walk through the corridors. They come across a spiral staircase and immediately start climbing it, the light growing the further they climb.

Calvin trips over a protruding piece of stone and stumbles forward. The dagger digs into his throat slightly before it gets pulled away. A dripping echoes through the staircase and small red splotches hit the ground. He starts panicking and blocks out the two older men in front of him. His heart rate increases and he starts begging for the wound to stop bleeding. A seafoam green radiates from the small slit in his throat and blood stops spilling out.

As the light fades away, his energy depletes, leaving him barely able to stand. He stumbles sidewards and rests his back against the wall, his breathing quickening. He look forward on the stair platform (the break between stairs) and sees the two lions conversing about the event that just occurred. Smiles are plastered on their faces as they discuss something quietly.

They exchange a few extra whispers before focusing on Calvin. Diabolos fake coughs to get everyone to focus.

"Either you don't fight back or you'll have a knife at your throat again," Ravana says. Calvin, too tired to even comprehend what was just said, nods.

Ravana smiles and grabs Calvin's arms, holding them behind his back for precautions, some of his nose blood gets onto Calvin's wrist. He pushes his elbow into Calvin's spine as he pushes him up the stairs and towards their destination.

Their footsteps echo as one through the empty spiral staircase. No words are exchanged through the short journey as well as assaults. At the top of the stairwell is a balcony styled platform with a door behind it. Diabolos opens the door to reveal a clean room with concrete walls (this time, luckily, no bugs were crawling around everywhere) with two surface black ceiling lights. All the things you'd find in a bedroom are placed neatly around the room.

"What is this?" He asks.

"As our most prized possession, you deserve a good room to sleep in," Diabolos says.

Calvin looks over at him as if he's diabolical. "I'm not your possession," he hisses.

"If you don't do what we say, then that little roommate of yours will be dead. Slit throat. You'll never see her again," threatens Ravana.

Calvin's throat dries from his words, terrified for his best friends death. He hesitates before shuffling into the room. The door immediately shuts behind him, scaring the shit out of him. His blood pressure spikes but quickly returns to normal.

In contrast to the cold building, this room is warm with a heating system. Calvin feels odd after having spent so long without heating. He wonders over to the wooden wardrobe and pulls it open. Inside is two fluffy, cream blankets and a maroon knitted jumper on top. He pulls out the jumper and measures it to his body, hoping it's the right fit.

He unbuttons his plain white shirt and replaces it with the jumper, immediately feeling a lot more comfortable(slightly too big), having been stuck in those uncomfortable clothes for months. The jumper hangs loosely from his bony arms. Calvin tries to ignore the scratchiness in his throat as he walks around the large room. A small window is in the back corner with bars as a safety precaution. He reaches out to touch the bar, but gets immediately electrocuted from the touch. He shakes his hand out at his side.

Calvin turns around from the window and to the double bed with a black bed frame with a blue and white striped doona. Feeling the weight of the day on his shoulders, he drifts towards the comforter and lays down, immediately sinking into the doona. He revels in the feeling for quite some time and closes his eyes. His back immediately loosens and his soreness washes out of his body. He lets his tired eyelids fold over.

"I could..." Calvin mumbles to himself, though not bothered to finish his sentence. Soon, he blacks out.