The ancestors of our dogs came to the campfires of our ancestors. Who: Wild Child Narrative What: Being a captive and an experiment generally sucks When: Tuesday evening Where: Woods near the Haven parameter Warnings: Mildly disturbing content As carefree, clueless and puppy-like as Wild Child could often appear, the was no gentle pup, and those in charge of this particular set of experiments recognized that. He was a wolf, wild and filled with instinct. While he might play the part of a good dog when it was convenient, there was no place for wolves in this organization. What was needed was a faithful, broken dog, who would come to heel when called and attack when ordered, not when the desire struck him. That was the mentality of those who had turned the last two weeks of Kyle Gibney's life into a unique form of hell.
The experiments the first few days had been ruthless, his body tampered with on a genetic level with the force and speed of those seeking results, with none of the care of those concerned about the patient. The last major experiment, which had taken place towards the end of the week, had nearly killed him, quite literally. He had been filled with tranquilizers in the same fashion as most would receive an IV drip when effects of the recent flare had worn off and caused his healing factor to rapidly decrease. The scientists had not anticipated this and their genetic experiments quite suddenly pushed his body farther than it was ready to go. It had been a race to preserve his life, but his captors had been determined. While Wild Child was not an outstanding prize in and of himself, he was a feral quite similar in mutation to several other, highly valuable ferals. Understanding how to alter and control that kind of mind and power was important, and thus all the stops had been pulled out in keeping their alpha testing subject alive.
In a very real way, Kyle wished he had died. The pain he was feeling at the cellular level, thanks to all the various injections and genetic tampering was mind blowing. He wanted nothing more than to curl up, and yet the way he was strapped to the table he was unable to do even that. He growled lowly now and again when he found the energy, gnashing his teeth at thin air, as he had found himself in isolation most of the time. His nose was keeping track of every scent around him, drugged or not, a feral rarely forgot the smell of someone. What was most surprising was that between the hazy spells of heavy sedation, Kyle found himself... becoming more like his old self was not only not accurate, but would have been a very bad thing for everyone, given what his old self was like. No, he was becoming something else. More human, perhaps. His mind seemed to be working better, more clearly, thinking and more complex logic was coming more easily, plans were building behind those distant blue eyes.
A lean, toned chest covered in dense fur rose and fell as Kyle labored to draw breath. The moments of near-clarity were a mixed blessing. Gibney could think and attempt a plan, take stock of his situation and evaluate things, but with a sharper mind came the screaming of his nerve cells, warning him that something was very wrong. His body felt like it was scorching, burning up from the inside out, and yet his furry hide showed no such signs, the machines beside his bed only showed his body temperature to be one degree above his normal temperature, which naturally ran a degree or two above that of most others. Gibs was mildly impressed with himself, a month ago he would have been unlikely to notice any of that, much less found it interesting.
Nostrils flared and his teeth bared again as someone approached. He smelled them, then heard footsteps, and at last a figure appeared on the edge of his vision. Growling and snarling, he craned his neck, turning his head to try and see his captor, but the man stayed just out of range, a dark shape just beyond recognition. He said something, pressed a few buttons and, more drugs flooded Gibney's system. They burned their way through his veins, and Kyle threw his head back, his hard body bowing and fighting against his restraints as he howled in pain. His entire body shuddered before darkness began to swallow his vision. Issuing a small, reluctant whimper, Wild Child resigned himself to fall into the waiting arms of the dark embrace of the chemicals, longing for and dreading whenever he would next awake in equal parts.