Redeeming The Hearts Of My Beasts

The stairs were steep and narrow. The air grew colder with every step. The smell of disinfectant mixed with the musky, reptilian scent of a cold-blooded predator. Ina kept her hand near the knife in her sleeve. Her boots creaked on the rotting wood. The dim emergency lights flickered, casting long shadows on the concrete walls. At the bottom of the stairs, she saw it. A metal cryo pod sat in the center of the room, white vapor curling around its base. The hum of the refrigeration unit was the only sound. She approached the pod slowly. Through the frosted glass, she could see him. A massive green snake tail was coiled tightly around the base. Above it was the pale torso of a man. Harlan Wright. His eyes were closed, his lips blue. His skin was covered in burn marks and electrical scars. Arno's interface flashed red. "Warning! Target Harlan Wright Mental Corruption Index: 30 (Extreme Danger). Subject is on the verge of rampage." Ina walked to the control panel. The temperature was set to minus twenty degrees Celsius. It was a torture chamber, not a containment unit. She didn't hesitate. She pressed the stop button, then the defrost sequence. The machine groaned. The hiss of releasing pressure filled the room. The heavy lid began to rise. A cloud of freezing white vapor billowed out, obscuring her vision. Ina stepped back. She shifted her weight, bending her knees slightly. She kept her eyes on the opening pod. The vapor cleared. Harlan's eyes snapped open. They weren't human eyes. They were vertical slits, a sickly yellow-green, filled with a cold, calculating madness. He didn't wait for the ice to melt. His tail lashed out, slamming into the bottom of the pod. He launched himself at her. He moved like a striking viper, fast and silent. His hands reached for her throat. Ina's body reacted before her mind could process the threat. She dropped to the side, rolling across the dirty floor. The wind from his passing ruffled her hair. His tail smashed into the wall behind her, cracking the concrete. He landed in a crouch, his tail coiled behind him for balance. His forked tongue flicked out, tasting the air. A low hiss escaped his throat. He stared at her, his voice like sandpaper on rock. "What's the new game? Tired of the shocks? Want to fight to the death this time?" Ina stood up. She brushed the dust from her pants. She looked him in the eye. She didn't back down. She didn't scream. Her calmness seemed to enrage him. He slithered forward, his fangs gleaming in the dim light. "Why so quiet? Where's your whip?" Ina pulled the boning knife from her sleeve. Harlan saw the steel and laughed, a harsh, grating sound. He tensed his muscles, ready to disarm her and turn the weapon on her. But Ina didn't lunge at him. She turned and drove the knife into the heavy wooden workbench beside her. The blade sank deep, the handle vibrating with the force of the impact. Harlan froze. His vertical pupils contracted. This wasn't in the script. She was supposed to attack him, or cower. She wasn't supposed to disarm herself. Ina looked at him, her voice low and steady. "I swear on my life, from this second on, I will never lay a finger on you again." Harlan stared at her for a long moment. Then, he burst out laughing. It was a manic, broken sound. He doubled over, coughing, a fleck of blood appearing on his lip. "A swear? A promise from a sadist?" He sneered, his eyes full of contempt. "Do you think I'm stupid enough to believe you?" Ina didn't argue. She knew words were worthless. She pointed at the open pod. "The machine is off. The password is deleted. You can stay down here in the dark, or you can come upstairs. It's your choice." She turned around. She started walking toward the stairs. She left her back completely exposed. It was a gamble. A huge gamble. One strike from his tail would snap her spine. Harlan watched her go. His tail slapped against the floor in agitation. The instinct to kill, to avenge every shock and every freezing night, screamed at him. But something held him back. Her indifference. She wasn't afraid of him. She wasn't playing a game. She just didn't care. Ina reached the middle of the stairs. She stopped. She didn't turn around. "Also," she said, her voice echoing in the stairwell, "if you want to kill me, wait until I pay off the debt. Otherwise, the bank will seize you and sell you to the fighting pits. You'll be back in a cage, only this time, you'll be fighting to the death for someone else's amusement." The words hit Harlan like a bucket of ice water. He hated cages. He hated being property more than he hated her. "Target Mental Corruption Index decreased to 20. Current status: Extreme suspicion, attack suspended." Ina allowed herself a small, tight smile. She continued up the stairs and pushed open the door to the living room.