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Prometheus War

Chapter 3: The Rage Within

Mike reaches a hand up to knock on the door to the base commander's office and is surprised by the gruff, "Come," that is spoken before he can touch the metal door. Gripping the handle he enters the office and steps before the commander. He had thought the base commander would be a full human, but behind the desk, tapping at a computer is a humanoid grey wolf with a thick and spikey mane of fur on his head that trails down over his neck and bare shoulders. Wearing only a pair of pants his broad and downy white chest is visible while the fluorescent lights in the room play over the gray of his shoulders and arms like they are made of silver. A glitter of metal hanging from his neck shows the military dog tags and he tries not to laugh at the image of the big wolf wearing such an aptly named item. Thick cords of muscles underneath the fur move and bunch as Mike watches the wolf's hands dance over the keyboard.

Without taking his eyes from the monitor in front of him, the humanoid canine points to a plain chair in front of his desk and growls with a deep voice, "Sit while I finish this."

Mike does as instructed, knowing from his limited time in ROTC that it was best to do as ordered and wait, the military was all about the waiting until it was time for action. 'Then it was time to hurry up and wait,' he thinks to himself.

As the wolf's large hand clicks the mouse to close the file he turns his full attention on the young human before him, "The name's James "Garou" Wilson, and I'm the commander of this zoo. You're the one Touch talked about huh kid? She and Tunes rescued you and another from a pack of the ferals I understand. You're what, 18?"

"Yes, sir," he responds, making sure to keep his answers short and sweet.

The wolf nods, "Thought so, I could smell her on you. Haven't had time to take a shower yet I take it, you look like you're fresh from the infected zones. Escorting a young lass I understand, trying to get out of town, only to find there's nothing left but the howling hordes of infected and the silent mounds of the dead." He waves a dismissive hand before Mike can respond, "No need to confirm, I probably know more about your current state of mind then you do. My people have been in the deep end of this whole shit storm since the tidal wave hit and the brass authorized live rounds."

The big wolf studies him with piercing sky blue eyes, "For instance, I know for a fact you're scared to death right now, even if you are doing a fair job of not showing it openly on your face or with body language." The wolf taps his nose, "Just one of the things you inherit from the process, depending on what species the brains say you are best suited for."

The chair squeaks in protest as the heavy wolf leans back, "Heh, I guess I was always born to be a dog of war with the way I turned out."

The commander studies Mike as his thoughts race, 'He's slightly taller than average with a heavy build. The kid is no creampuff, but is he right for the teams?' Nodding more to himself than to Mike he speaks with a matter-of-fact tone, "Every one of our teams is made up from combat veterans who have seen the beast we call battle and forced it to surrender to their will. They are swords that have been forged in the fire of conflict and tempered in the blood of their foes." He points a blunt clawed finger at the human, "What makes you think you are appropriate to join the ranks of Project Prometheus?"

Mike gathers his thoughts for a moment before he takes a deep breath and answers, "I am a black belt in Ju-Jitsu, I was in ROTC in high school and was continuing the program in college, and I've handled a gun since I was old enough to know which end the bullets came out of."

"HA!" the wolf chuffs and shakes his head, the thick fur ruffling his neck and shoulders whooshing through the air with the movement. "Kid, there's plenty of people here who can be taught to shoot, or do some fancy hand-to-hand combat tricks, but why should I let you even try a risky procedure that could kill you when you're still in the prime of your life?"

"I want to help!" Mike exclaimed to the commander who returns a wolfish grin with just a hint of his fangs.

"Lots of ways to help besides fighting kid, and you still haven't given me enough reason to let you take on the mantle of a warrior in this age. We need farmers for the hydroponics farm, technicians for our gear and the toys that keep this base thriving, we need doctors to heal the sick and wounded," he gives a bark of laughter, "we even need janitors to clean the toilets." He studies the young man again with those eyes that seem to glow with an inner fire as the light catches them just right, "Why should I let you fight beside our veterans?" He holds up a hand to keep him from answering, "A better question, why should I trust you with my back in the thick of a rabid hoard of infected?"

Mike stares back into those blue eyes with his brown ones for a long moment before he responds, "Because I want to take back my country from the infected, and I can't do that by farming, fixing or cleaning. I want to protect my girl, and I want revenge for my friends and family." His hands clench into tight fists, "I need to be proactive, not hiding in the rear with the gear."

The commander closes his eyes and smiles as he takes in a deep breath through his nose, "Good lad, that's what I need to see, a fighting spirit." He opens his eyes slowly and crosses his arms across his broad chest, "You say you want to protect your girl huh? I take it that's the other human I can still smell so strongly on you that you might as well have been wearing the same clothes. Do you understand there is no guarantee you will be able to have children with a human woman even if we do take back our world from the masses of the infected?" He leans forward to fix the young human with his stare, "I know Touch told you about the changes being permanent, there is no more cure for our actions then there is for the infected that are destroying the world."

Mike doesn't avert his gaze from the large wolf as he gives an affirmative nod, "I would do anything to protect her. Without people like her, there is no future for the world."

The commander studies the young man in front of him before he looks down to his desk and presses a button that emits a soft buzz. "Yes?" a quiet female voice asks with a hint of stress.

Looking back to Mike the wolf grins, white teeth flashing in that red maw, "Dr. Tanya, we have a new volunteer. He claims to be a fighter and insists on enlisting."

The sigh is audible from the doctor on the other end, "Garou, I thought we agreed not to indoctrinate any of the civilians until the process has been studied more?" There is a pregnant pause, "Commander, are you sure this is a path we want to take? You know there are risks with even the most carefully selected individuals."

The wolf gives a short bark of laughter, "Doctor, this lad is insisting and doesn't seem ready to take no for an answer. I've given him more chances to change his mind then I did with any of the other volunteers for our little zoo here. I'm given permission for you to test him for whatever it is you use to judge if a candidate is viable."

The silence is heavy before the female on the intercom can be heard to sigh again, "Very well, send him down." The speaker clicks as the person on the other side disconnects from the meeting.

Garou's grin widens, "Welcome to the project kid. For your sake I hope you made the right decision."

* * *

Ten minutes later Mike finds himself sitting in a sterile curtained off examination room in his underwear as a male nurse takes a blood sample. Mike watches the red blood fill the test tube as he asks, "How long before I will know if the process will be possible?"

"Dr. Tanya will tell you shortly," the nurse responds as he withdraws the needle and shakes the vial to mix the blood inside with the stabilizer at the bottom. "Hold that," he says as he presses a cotton ball against the spot and Mike does so, flexing his arm to help hold the small cotton ball in place as the nurse leaves the curtained off exam room.

Left alone Mike listens to muttered voices and the beeps and chugs of various machines he would expect to hear in any hospital. The sound of a wounded individual comes to his ears and he wonders if it's Tunes recovering from his ordeal that Touch had told them about. He isn't sure how much time passes before the soft padding of bare feet on cold tile draws his attention a minute before the curtain is whipped open and a five foot tall humanoid bunny with long floppy ears, glasses, and a lab coat enters reading a clipboard, "Hello Michael, I have your results here."

Mike stares at the short furred female, his jaw hanging open, "Dr. Tanya?"

She looks up at him through her wire rimmed glasses, her eyes cold and as blue as the arctic sea, "Yes, I suppose you were expecting an un-altered human?" She sets the clipboard on the counter and crosses her arms over her petite chest, "Well, let's just say I had an accident and this was what saved me in the end. Now, do you want to stare at the furred freak in the room or go over your results kid?"

Mike looks away with a muttered, "Sorry."

Dr. Tanya sighs and uncrosses her arms, "No, I'm sorry. I may look like a cute little defenseless bunny, but inside I still have the heart of a tiger and don't like people judging me by my looks. Seriously, this was an accident; I wasn't supposed to be part of the program this way, but that's a tale for another day." She picks up the clipboard again and flips through the pages, "I see you have signed all the waivers and acknowledgements. Not like there's any lawyers left to bother with such things, but we like to keep it civilized." She reaches the last page and taps a dainty finger, "The good and bad news is that you are a suitable candidate. But there is an anomaly in your DNA we can't screen out; I am unsure how you will react to the drugs and gene splicing required by the process."

"But, you just said I am a suitable candidate," he asking raising an eyebrow with confusion.

"Oh indeed, but I can't predict how you will turn out, what your final form will be. The injection is typically tailored to match the subject to a particular species which their DNA will willingly bind with such as tiger, wolf, fox, or horse, but all I can gather from yours is feline, not what type of feline. That is most unusual." She looks up at him again over the rim of her glasses, "You could be a small housecat or a massive lion, I just can't judge at this time because all the results give me back a reading of perfect match for any and all feline DNA."

"So, no matter what I'll be a feline? That doesn't sound so bad, Tunes and Touch were the two who rescued us and they are feline."

Dr. Tanya smirks knowingly, "Ah yes, those two. So much skill and ability melded perfectly with their genes into one person killing machines. As a team, they are almost unstoppable. Tunes with his close-quarters-combat expertise and Touch with her exceptional marksmanship are the perfect combination of close and long ranged combat skills, a perfect team and even they are not unstoppable. However, you haven't met War yet; he's a draft horse and could take out nearly anyone here in hand-to-hand combat with brute strength, though Tunes is quicker and able to take him on with skill. But, even with all that strength, he is fighting for his life after Tunes and Touch rescued him and Fluff. A hoard can bring down even the biggest and strongest of us, so don't get cocky." She flips the pages back to the clipboard and studies the young man sitting on the exam table before her, "You really want this kid?"

"I do," he responds with a sharp nod.

She sighs and takes her glasses off to pinch the bridge of her nose, "Alright, I'll dial in your serum myself. The nurses and orderlies will be along shortly to prep you." She moves to leave and hesitates with the curtain in hand, "I hope you know what you're doing kid. This is no life for the young, for the future generation. I was hoping that we would keep this to the older veterans, but this is going to be a long and bloody battle for survival and Garou is right, we need everyone we can use."

Her words tumble through Michael's brain as he swallows the fear he feels rising. 'It's going to happen, I will protect people, and I will get revenge,' he thinks as he stares into the past and the horrors he has seen in recent weeks.

A couple of hours later Mike is being wheeled into an operating theatre and nurses hurry about him attaching sensors and IVs. His eyes dart around the room, unsure what most of the equipment is, but it looks like something out of a mad scientist movie with the dials and unknown liquids and screens with unknowable readouts, but then all operating rooms do. He is surprised though when four large figures enter the room and stand against the wall.

The four figures wear the concealing gowns, masks, and hoods of the rest of the staff, but the visible fur and the way their marks protrude to cover muzzles gives away the fact they are all members of Project Prometheus. He hears a clicking and looks down to see the nurses securing his wrists and ankles in metal cuffs. "What's going on?" he asks with a hint of apprehension sneaking its way into his voice as he hears the beep of his pulse rise with the apprehension.

Dr. Tanya enters carrying a small cooler and nods to the four figures against the wall before she sets the cooler on a table next to his operating table, "I'm sorry Michael, but it's for your protection as much as our own. There has been more than once that the subjects have gotten violent during the process as instincts fight against the rational mind." She waves a hand towards herself, "The accident I told you about that resulted in this is one example of something bad happening."

His eyes flick nervously to the four silent hulking figures and she notices his gaze, "Yes that is why they are here too. They will restrain you if you manage to break your bonds. They do not want to harm you, but they want to make sure you don't harm anyone else either."

She opens the cooler to a wisp of escaping frozen air, the contents apparently stored in dry ice. Putting on a rubber glove she reaches in and extracts a large syringe with a glowing green liquid within. All eyes in the room focus on that syringe and its contents. In Mike's case, his eyes are specifically focused on the thick needle, "Please tell me you're putting me under for this?"

Dr. Tanya pulls the cover off the needle and removes the paper covering his right thigh to expose his white skin, "I would Michael, but I never lie to patients. You must be awake and aware during the procedure, and as the papers you signed clearly stated and warned you, this is not a pleasant procedure." She grips his leg in one gloved hand and holds the syringe against his skin, "I'm sorry Michael, but you insisted on going through with this."

With those words fire lances through his body from his thigh and he arches his back so hard that the four figures push their way forward to hold him down as he struggles against the bindings that hold him to the table. "AIIIIEEEEEE!" he screams in pain, the sound tears itself from his throat as his muscles strain and the cords of tendons and sinews stand out from his limbs.

Dr. Tanya turns to one of the screens and whips off a glove to tap it with a finger, changing the display to a color graph of the young man's body with a red glow near the injection site that slowly seeps through the nearby tissues. Her eyes are drawn to the flashing red words 'hyper spread'. "The serum is spreading faster than normal," she comments as she taps another screen and administers a series of drugs through one of the IVs already in his arm. Looking over to the screaming man she makes a decision and orders, "Get a tranquilizer ready, just in case."

One of the orderlies does as directed while another masked doctor taps on another screen to monitor specific vitals, "Doctor, his temperature is spiking, 101 and climbing."

The female bunny taps another trigger on her screen, "Closely monitor him; we'll cool him if we have to with chilled IVs and cold-packs." She squints at the screen and frowns, "This isn't right, it's going too fast, that's not hyper spread." She taps back to the original screen and sees the red that started as a small patch on his thigh now spreading to cover more than eighty percent of his form and changing from a pale pink to a glaring cherry red of full infection faster then she had ever seen before. "He's burning through his body's natural store of energy at an accelerated rate."

"Doctor, he's at 104 and still climbing. There's a risk of brain damage of we don't cool him soon."

Dr. Tanya taps her fingers over the touch sensitive screen and several mechanical arms swing down, large hypodermic needles at the ends of the metal and plastic limbs slip into position. "Hold his limbs steady damn it!" she shouts to the four who are struggling against the convulsing human on the table. She rushes over and three other nurses help hold the limbs as the needles draw near. The muscles in Mike's arms are still twitching as the needles pierce his skin and a cocktail or drugs and nutrients are fed into his system. The young human's limbs stop trembling and his motions start to calm as the drugs kick in and the nutrients feed his system the requirements for what is only starting to happen to his body.

Those holding Michael to the table relax their grips as his struggles diminish and his body calms to sag onto the table once more. The nurses return to their instruments while the four hulking figures take a step back. The doctor who has been monitoring Michael's vitals frowns as he studies the readouts on his monitor, "Doctor, there's something strange here." He glances at the nurse with the syringe full of tranquilizer, "I think we need to use the sedative."

Dr. Tanya turns to him with a raised eyebrow, "What's wrong?"

The doctor flips his screen around and points to the reading next to heart rate and respiration, "Look at this, his respiration is that of resting, but his heart rate is over 160 bpm."

The bunny's eyes go wide and her mouth falls open with a realization as she notices not only the two readings the doctor points out, but the body temperature of the subject on the table. Michael's body temperature is at 108 degrees. Spinning towards the operating table she shouts, "Hold him now!"

The four there in the room to restrain the subject hesitate only a moment as they glance towards the suddenly scared bunny, and that is all it takes for a critical medical one to a crisis no one could expect. What those there to restrain the subject miss happens before Dr. Tanya's eyes in the space of heartbeats. She watches as the muscle mass of the young man on the table doubles, his legs shifting and reforming, fur sprouting from many spots on his naked skin, and his entire form growing far more than it should in such a short time.

Before the four figures can react to the new situation the figure on the table surges and there is the snapping sound of metal cracking from intense pressure and the tearing of leather as straps part. One of the four, a muscle bound male lion, finds himself with a large hand gripping his throat and face to face with a snarling face still in the middle of transforming into a new feline visage. "RRAAAAAHHHHH," the transforming Michael screams with his half formed vocal cords, spittle flying into the face of the trapped lion who grips his wrist like a cub, fear widening his eyes as a small part of him recognizes a bigger predator has entered the room.

The other three leap to the rescue of their comrade as Dr. Tanya rushes to the wall and slams a palm on a large red button. A siren starts to blare in the room and throughout the facility, and soldiers drop what they are doing to snatch up weapons and race to their alert stations. The doctor ducks and pulls her arms over her head as one of the muscled figures slams into the wall next to her with a shower of sparks and shattered glass, plastic, and electronic components as he crashes through machinery. "Restrain him!" she screams at the other soldiers trying to hold the raging figure still in the midst of his transformation.

Another of the large soldiers is thrown into another of the screens with a half roar, half scream of rage. The two remaining soldiers clamp onto his arms and swipe his currently mal-formed feet from under him and Michael slams into the operating room floor with a crash. "Doc, what the hell did you do to him?!" one of the lupine soldiers asks while he struggles to hold the still growing figure under him with the aid of his fellow humanoid wolf soldier.

"Nothing," she screams, "I don't know what's happening. All his tests were perfect!" She scuttles over to an undamaged screen and taps the controls to bring up the main screen she was originally looking at. "I've never seen a transformation happen like this, it's as if he's acting entirely on instinct and all he knows is that he was restrained and I don't think he likes that. He's transforming too fast for his higher brain functions to keep up with what's happening to his body. He is not in control of himself!"

The two soldiers are joined by their battered companions in holding the thrashing subject on the floor with their not inconsiderable weight, "Doc," the big lion responds, a trickle of blood running out of his nose, "I've never seen a transformation like this. I know you said he's going to be feline, but I can't even identify his species. This far into the transformation I should be able to identify him by scent at least. This ain't my first rodeo, what have you done?!"

The doctor turns to the soldiers and watches Michael's fur slowly settle into a thick pelt of tan fur, but broken stripes are scattered over the bulk of his back and arms. "He's a liger," she says with an uncertainty in her voice.

One of the soldiers, a large draft horse, stares at his fellow soldiers and mutters, "Oh shit!" He casts a panicked look towards the bunny still standing by her screens which are still showing the readouts from the wireless devices stuck to Michael's body, "Doc, don't you know those things make a tiger look small?!"

With a momentary pause under the four soldiers Michael suddenly gives a violent shrug that throws the four off him in a scattered mess around the room and he ominously lifts himself to his knees. His muscled form panting for breath as he kneels there on his hands and knees, a tail slowly growing from the end of his spine and flicks in agitation. His chest heaves with the effort to draw air through his new muzzle and to his lungs that cry out for more oxygen to finish his transformation. One of the nurses notices his eyes as they open, gone are the whites or the colored iris, all that can be seen around the dark pinpoints of his pupils in the red of blood. "Oh my god," she gasps as she backs towards a wall and presses herself against it hard enough that it appears she is trying to become one with the concrete. "Doctor, he's a berserker!"

The other medical staff hugs the walls to stay as far from the nude hulking figure as he catches his breath. "The tests should have warned us of that," Dr. Tanya cries as she lets her hands dance over her screen. The room grows quiet except for the grunts as the soldiers pick themselves up again with slow motions so as not to attract the attention of the subject in the middle of the room. Michael's heavy breathing as his red eyes dart from figure to figure in the room seems to beat like a war-drum, crying out the danger of this mass of feline aggression.

With a crash the door to the operating theatre bursts open and two figures storm in with blue barreled rifles at the ready and focused on the figure in the middle of the room. "FREEZE!" shouts a male bobcat as the female vulpine next to him thumbs off her safety.

Michael seems to study them for a minute, tilting his head in curiosity as he slowly stands from his hands and knees to confront this new and unknown threat. All eyes in the room track him as he stands tall, nearly eight foot on his wide braced digitigrade feet. He looks down at the two combat ready soldiers, their weapons looking pathetic to the large alpha predator in control of his body. The bobcat gulps at the towering figure standing nude before them, "I said freeze, or we will put you down with tranquilizer rounds."

The massive liger, his muscles bulging under his new messed fur, blood and other fluids from the operating theatre streaking the tan fur into a parody of camouflage. He tilts his head to the side as if not understanding the little creature in front of him. The four he has already thrown off were much bigger than these two, these would not be a threat his primal mind tells him.

Dr. Tanya shouts, "Don't you fools, tranq rounds will only make this worse! We need to calm him somehow, not flood his system with adrenaline from the impact of the rounds!"

The vulpine female stares with steel grey eyes at the hulking feline, "We're all ears Doc, but you better come up with an idea quick. I don't want to have to kill him if I don't have to and I got a feeling if I reach for a lethal mag he'll tear us all into quivering bloody pieces."

The bunny turns to one of the orderlies, "Quick, get the girl he was brought in with. If he truly cares for her that might be just the thing to bring him out of the berserker state." She notices one of the soldiers trying to sneak up on the hulking figure and she holds out a palm towards him, "Stop, he's almost fully transformed, he could rip you up without knowing what he's doing. Everyone, stay back from him," she orders to the others while the orderly skirts the wall and slips through the door behind the two combat clad soldiers.

The leonine soldier doesn't heed Dr. Tanya's warning and with a roar of his own launches himself at the larger feline. Michael turns and his hand extends, claws splayed wide, to slap the smaller, but still large, feline into the wall with a primal roar of his own. The lion holds a hand to his chest as he winces in pain, red stripes showing the path of the liger's razor sharp claws through his flesh.

The two armed soldiers react with muscle memory to the aggression shown their unarmed comrade, and that is the biggest mistake that could be made at that very moment, they open fire with their tranquilizer rifles.

Dr. Tanya screams, "NO!!!" as she watches several of the darts impart the massive tawny furred feline as he raises a muscled forearm to protect his face. There is a moment of confusion in his eyes before he looks to the two who just shot him, all civility gone from those red eyes.

With a low growl that thrums the very air of the operating theatre he crouches and places a single hand to the ground like a football lineman before his powerful new legs propel him at inhuman speed towards his armed attackers. His impact bowls them both off their feet and into the wall on either side of the door out of the operating room. The door doesn't fare as well as the alarm had triggered the maglocks to secure it solid without a keycard, his impact rips both metal doors from their frame with a shower of sparks as he hurtles out of the room and into the underground base beyond.

Nurses and orderlies and examining the soldiers for injuries as Dr. Tanya steps up and slaps the uniformed bobcat. "I told you don't shoot. He was starting to calm down before that ill-advised attack," she glares at the lion who grunts from the pain of the lacerations which are surprisingly shallow for such a vicious counter-attack. "Now, not only is he not calming down, you shot him so full of adrenaline from the dart impacts that he is definitely out of his mind, and out of control. Until he comes off the adrenaline high there is no stopping him without putting a bullet in his head. And I can't even be sure that would stop him as easily as it would an unaltered human."

The gruff voice of Garou responds as he enters the destroyed scene of what used to be an operating room, "Then that might be what we need to do." He glares at the small bunny doctor, "What did you do? What did you create out of that poor kid, Doc?"

She glares back, not cowed in the least by his manner or his gruff appearance as he towers over her, "If we can calm him, I may have given you a trump card to use against the hordes of infected. A berserker under control is a force of nature as ferocious as a hurricane and just as unstoppable, not just a weapon."

The large wolf looks at what a single man, still not used to his changed body, has done to the normally ordered room and four fully trained soldiers who had restrained many others going through the same process, "And how do you think you'll do that? Threaten him? I think our normal less-than-lethal attempts are going to fall on deaf ears."

The orderly who had been sent before the breakout of Michael arrives with Lisa and stands shocked at the destroyed doors. "With her," the doctor responds pointing to the young woman.

Garou nods as he pulls his revolver from the low slung rig on his hip and flips the cylinder open to eject the custom tranq rounds and load a set of the lethal .454 rounds, "You have one chance, then I put him down." He presses a finger to the bud in his ear, "And here's your chance. He's currently stopped in supply hall four. Appears security lowered the blast doors for the munitions stored there, and even he's not strong enough to bash his way through explosive resistant doors." He looks down at the young woman who is still staring slack jawed at the destruction around them, "I hope you can help lass. He seems like a good lad, and I'd hate to have to put him down."

* * *

Lisa looked at the camera feed and saw the enraged feline that used to be Mike banging on a foot thick metal blast door in the sectioned off corridor. His furious impacts leave bloody smears marring the dull metal from beating his hands raw with the unfeeling rage. "What did you do?" she asks with quiet shock at the rage and fury the young man she has known for years has never shown.

Dr. Tanya crosses her arms across her chest and sighs, "I don't know. He was a perfect candidate, but that may be the problem. He was so perfect the serum worked too fast. I suspect his mind was not able to keep up with the rapid changes in his body. As it slowly takes over conscious control of his body again I suspect he will return to his normal mannerisms, but there is no guarantee." She casts a glare towards the two uniformed soldiers with their useless blue barrel rifles, "The tranquilizers may have put his higher brain into a coma-like state." She sighs, "And the adrenaline from the impacts is driving his primal instincts at a much higher level than they normally would. He feels no pain at this time and I think any aggression or hostile action against him will only drive the primal instincts to fight harder for the one thing all life craves, survival."

Lisa rests a delicate hand over the figure on the screen, "And you think I can stop him?"

Garou towering behind them nods, "Sure lass, there's a chance you can. When I interviewed him he was going on about how he wanted to protect you. Whether you know it or not, I suspect the lad has quite a crush on you. That is often more instinctual than any higher brain function we call love." He taps the side of his muzzle with a thick claw tipped finger, "And his scent told me he was telling the truth as he knew it to be more than any words he used."

The girl nods with agreement, "Yes... That might be enough to speed the return of his rational thought. If nothing else it might drop his adrenaline enough for the drugs already in his system to start taking hold of him."

She turns to the sealed blast door furthest from Mike and out of his direct line of sight as the corridor makes a gentle bend ot the right. She steels herself with a squaring of her shoulders and a deep breath she lets out in a soft sigh, "I'll go alone. If he sees one of you with me he might attack you out of a misplaced instinct to protect me."

Garou nods but gives her a stern warning, "Alright lass, but if it looks like he's going to hurt you I'll be wrenching this door open to put two in him and keep you alive at least."

Lisa shakes her head and looks up at the large lupine commander of Project Prometheus, "There won't be a need for that, he's known me a long time, and even if his higher brain functions are limited currently; he knows I am a friend and that will get through."

With a hand crank the soldiers open the blast door and Lisa slips into the hallway with a quiet step. Immediately her ears are battered with the bestial roars of a ferocious feline torn from Michael's throat as his fists hammer on the sealed door like it's a massive drum. Behind her there's a metallic clang as the door is sealed again and the pounding of meat on metal halts with a soft chuffing from around the bend in the corridor. Lisa takes one deliberate step after another down the corridor with no effort to quiet her steps; she wants him to know she's coming.

As the blood smeared door comes into sight Lisa catches her breath as the sight of the transformed Michael. His muscled form is hunched over as his broad chest pumps like a bellows to draw air into his rage fueled and oxygen starved lungs. Seeing her come into view his head tilts inquisitively to the side as his nostrils flare her unique scent wafts towards him. He chuffs in a feline manner causing his brows to knit together before he makes another sound, "Lliissssaaa..." Closing his eyes he shakes his head furiously and when his gaze returns to the young woman in the hallway the blood red that had filled his eyes is fading back to their natural color. Soon, his brown eyes stare into her green ones and he tries again, his voice still deeper than normal, but nowhere near the beast it had been, "Lisa?"

She smiles as the man she knows takes over the huge figure in front of her, "Yes Mike, it's me."

He looks at his hands and notices the raw spots where he had injured himself, "Lisa... What have I done? I thought I would help people, but why am I bloody?" Turning his arm he finds one of the tranq darts still in the muscle of his forearm and his ears flick against his skull as his deep and purring voice whispers in the suddenly quiet corridor, "What have I done?" He looks back at her with a confused expression of worry distorting his features. Before she can respond he slumps to the ground with a meaty thud and his eyelids start to droop on their own, "Lisa... I'm sorry..." he tries to explain, but the effects of the rage have taken a toll on his body and muscles. Within moments of the rage disappearing from his eyes the drugs still flowing through his system have sunk their talons into his mind and body. Without the adrenaline to keep the tranquilizers at bay he is soon sleeping with a soft purr.

She sits on the concrete floor and pulls the large feline head into her lap. A lone tear rolls down her cheek to drip onto his new facial fur where it marks its trail with a line of dampness, "Mike, you didn't do anything to apologize for. I'm here now, and it is my turn to keep you safe."

Several of the soldiers tread quietly into the hallway from the door which she entered. Lisa glares at them and Garou holds a hand up to stop the other soldiers as he nods with understanding, "It worked, good. Now let's hope he is a little calmer when he wakes again." One of the soldiers pulls out some handcuffs and Garou snarls, "No restraints, I don't think they would help anyway, he's got enough muscle on him to throw War across the gym." He looks back to the young woman cradling the big feline's head and stroking his hair as if she was petting any small housecat, "Get him into the biggest bed we can find and let the lass stay with him. If he is more instinctual than most of us, then I don't want his first feeling when he wakes that he is trapped again without a familiar face to comfort him." He glances at Dr. Tanya and frowns, "I suspect that may very well have been the trigger for this whole thing. From the video I saw the more we tried to restrain him the more violent he got, and with no one nearby that he knew to comfort him his instincts decided it was time to fight or flee. Let the lass keep an eye on him, it appears beauty can calm the savage beast."

Several of the orderlies and nurses come into the corridor with a wheeled bed far too small for the massive feline's frame, but with great care they manage to lift him onto it and wheel him from the bare storage corridor. The entire time Lisa stays with him, her delicate hands stroking his blond hair and tan fur.

The large wolf watches it all as most of the soldiers return to their regular duties, "Lad, I hope the bunny there is right and you can help us. You got the power, but you need to learn to properly channel it." The wolf reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose with a huff, "Power without control isn't power, it's chaos."

_All characters unless otherwise stated are the intellectual property of Chris Gilman [aka. Goliath Wildcat] Story © Copyright Christopher Gilman 2015 all rights reserved

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