｡⋆ Where the Wildflowers Grew ˚｡⋆𝜗𝜚

⊹ ₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆₊⋆☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆₊ ⊹

The facility never truly became quiet.

Even in the middle of the night, there was always something.

A warning alarm from one of the lower levels. Metal scraping against metal. A muffled cry behind a locked door. The constant hum of machines that never seemed to stop.

The scientists had learned to ignore most of it.

To them, it was simply the sound of work.

A young researcher walked through the eastern corridor with a tablet in one hand. He barely looked up as he passed the glass rooms.

Inside one of them, a small fish experiment floated weakly near the bottom of a tank.

Its movements were slow.

The water circulated around it, but it kept opening and closing its mouth as though there wasn’t enough air.

The researcher glanced at the readings.

“Respiration declining.”

He wrote something down.

Then he kept walking.

Further down the corridor, another experiment was struggling against restraints.

Its body had changed so badly that it was difficult to tell what it had once looked like. It thrashed wildly, unable to control the instincts the scientists had forced into it.

A technician pressed a button.

The restraints tightened.

The experiment screamed.

The researcher didn’t stop.

He simply continued toward the next section.

There were hundreds of rooms throughout the facility.

Some contained successful experiments.

Some contained failures.

Some contained subjects that had survived but were no longer considered useful.

And some rooms were never opened again.

The researcher stopped in front of a reinforced door.

A screen beside it displayed two numbers.

027

041

Below them was a single word.

COMBAT.

He entered a command.

“Prepare the chamber.”

A technician looked over.

“Both of them?”

“Both.”

The technician hesitated.

“027 sustained injuries during the previous trial.”

“He can fight.”

“And 041?”

“She can fight.”

The technician nodded.

Neither of them questioned it.

The researcher entered another command.

“Release them.”

The combat chamber was enormous.

Metal walls surrounded a wide circular floor, with thick glass separating the arena from the observation room.

At one end stood Experiment 027.

Viper.

He had learned a long time ago not to react when they used it.

He stood barefoot against the cold metal floor, his breathing slow.

Across from him stood Experiment 041.

Strix.

She stared back.

Neither spoke.

They didn’t need to.

They already knew what this meant.

Again.

One more fight.

One more test.

One more chance for the scientists to decide which one was better.

The doors behind them locked.

A voice came through the speakers.

“Begin.”

Strix moved first.

She disappeared almost immediately.

Viper’s eyes followed the empty space where she had been.

Then he tilted his head.

A faint sound.

A footstep.

Behind him.

He spun.

Her claws stopped inches from his face.

Viper caught her wrist.

Strix twisted away before he could grab her properly, landing several metres away.

Strix - “Still too slow.”

Viper narrowed his eyes.

Viper - “You talk too much.”

Strix - “Then stop listening.”

She rushed him again.

He ducked.

Her attack missed.

Viper struck back, but she jumped over him and landed behind him with almost no sound.

He turned.

She was already gone.

His breathing stayed steady.

Her footsteps were nearly silent.

But he didn’t need to hear them.

He could feel the warmth of her body through the darkness of the chamber.

There.

Viper lunged.

Strix twisted sideways.

His hand missed her shoulder by centimetres.

She struck his ribs.

He staggered.

The scientists behind the glass began typing.

“Reaction speed increased by four percent.”

“Subject 027′s temperature detection remains consistent.”

“041 is adapting.”

“Increase difficulty.”

Neither experiment heard all of it.

They were too focused on each other.

Strix wiped the small amount of blood from the corner of her mouth.

Viper looked at it.

Neither of them smiled.

They had done this too many times.

They knew each other’s habits.

They knew where the other would move.

They knew when the other was tired.

And that was exactly why the scientists kept putting them together.

They were different.

Viper tracked.

Strix evaded.

He waited.

She moved.

He listened.

She watched.

Neither could completely overpower the other.

The scientists wanted to know why.

“Again,” came the voice.

Neither questioned it.

They fought again.

And again.

And again.

Until neither of them was thinking about winning anymore.

Only surviving long enough for the fight to end.

The final attack came too quickly.

Viper dodged a strike.

Strix stumbled.

Her shoulder slammed into a control panel built into the wall.

There was a sharp crack.

The screen shattered.

The chamber went silent.

Strix froze.

Viper stared at the broken panel.

Neither moved.

Then the doors opened.

Scientists entered immediately.

One of them looked at the damaged controls.

“Experiment 041.”

Strix’s stomach dropped.

Strix - “I didn’t—”

“You damaged facility equipment.”

Strix - “It was an accident.”

The scientist barely looked at her.

“Take her.”

Strix’s face changed.

Strix - “No.”

Two guards grabbed her arms.

Strix - “Wait.”

She struggled.

Strix - “No. It wasn’t supposed to—”

The scientist turned away.

“Proceed with disciplinary action for the associated subject.”

Strix stopped fighting.

Her face went completely pale.

Strix - “No.”

The guards dragged her toward the exit.

She already knew where they were going.

They weren’t going to punish her.

They were going to punish someone else.

Her brother.

The guards dragged Strix through the corridor.

She stopped fighting.

There was no point.

They passed the combat rooms.

Then the medical rooms.

Then the section she hated most.

The failed experiments.

The lights above them flickered as the doors opened.

Her brother’s room was near the end of the corridor.

She saw him before they entered.

He was sitting on the floor, his back against the wall.

He looked smaller than he should have.

There was a metal brace around his torso, holding his spine in place. Thin lines ran from the brace to the machinery beside him, monitoring every movement he made.

Behind him were two folded, useless wings.

They weren’t really wings anymore.

They were what remained of them.

The facility had once tried to make him a bat experiment.

The first attempts had worked.

The enhanced hearing.

The night vision.

The ability to navigate through darkness.

Then they tried to do more.

They tried to make him fly.

It failed.

The additional modifications damaged part of his spine, leaving him unable to support the wings they had forced onto his body.

The scientists had labelled him a failure.

But Strix had never seen him that way.

He was her brother.

The only family she had left.

The guards pushed her into the room.

Her brother looked at her.

He immediately understood.

“Nadia...”

She froze.

The name hit harder than any punishment.

Nobody here called her that.

Nobody except him.

One of the scientists stepped forward.

“Your sister damaged facility equipment.”

Her brother’s expression changed.

“She didn’t mean to.”

“That is irrelevant.”

The scientist turned towards the technician.

“Begin.”

Nadia’s eyes widened.

Nadia - “No.”

The guards held her in place.

Nadia - “No, please.”

Her brother looked at her.

Nadia - “Don’t.”

She struggled harder.

Nadia - “Stop! I’ll take the punishment!”

The scientist didn’t even look at her.

The machine activated.

Her brother’s body suddenly tensed.

Nadia screamed.

Nadia - “Stop!”

Another burst of pain ran through him.

His hands gripped the floor.

The machinery continued.

Nadia could only watch.

She had seen punishment before.

She had experienced it herself.

But watching her brother suffer because of something she had done was different.

Much worse.

Her brother’s breathing became uneven.

“Nadia...”

She couldn’t answer.

The scientist watched the readings.

“Acceptable.”

The machine stopped.

Her brother collapsed against the wall.

For several seconds, there was only silence.

Then the guards released Strix.

She immediately ran towards him.

She dropped beside him.

Nadia - “I’m sorry.”

Her hands hovered over him, afraid to touch somewhere that might hurt.

Nadia - “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to break it. I didn’t—”

Her brother slowly looked up.

He gave her the smallest smile.

“It’s fine.”

She shook her head.

Nadia - “No, it isn’t.”

“I’m fine.”

Nadia - “You aren’t.”

He closed his eyes for a moment.

Then looked at her again.

“I’m still here.”

That was enough to make her eyes burn.

She moved closer.

Nadia - “I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

The guards grabbed her again.

She resisted.

Nadia - “Wait!”

Her brother reached out as far as he could.

“Nadia.”

She looked back.

“I’m fine.”

The doors closed between them.

She was taken back to her room.

The door opened.

She stepped inside.

It wasn’t like the other rooms.

There were no metal restraints in the centre.

No examination table.

The room had been specially designed for her.

The walls were tall.

Platforms had been built into them at different heights.

There were narrow ledges, climbing structures and elevated spaces she could reach easily.

The scientists called it environmental enrichment.

Something to keep the experiment active.

Something to observe.

To Strix, it was still a cage.

She moved silently across the room.

Then she climbed.

One platform.

Then another.

Then another.

Her body moved almost naturally through the room.

She reached the highest platform and curled herself into the corner.

There, hidden from the camera as much as the room allowed, was a small collection of stuffed animals.

Most were old.

One was missing an eye.

Another had a torn ear.

But one sat carefully at the front.

A soft little plush cat.

Her brother had given it to her years ago.

Before they had changed her.

Before she had claws.

Before her hearing became painfully sensitive.

Before her eyes adjusted to darkness.

Before the scientists stopped calling her a girl.

She pulled the plush against her chest.

For a moment, she closed her eyes.

Nadia.

That was who she had been.

A girl.

A human being.

A little sister.

Not Experiment 041.

Not Strix.

Not a successful result.

Human.

Or at least...

she had been.

She looked down at her hands.

Claws curved from her fingers.

Her ears twitched at the smallest sound outside the room.

Her pupils narrowed in the dim light.

The girl she remembered no longer looked entirely human.

The facility had taken pieces of her and replaced them with something else.

And then they had given that something a number.

041.

Strix.

She squeezed the plush tighter.

Her thoughts returned to the combat chamber.

To the broken panel.

To the punishment.

To her brother lying on the floor.

And finally, to the person who had caused it.

Viper.

Her grip tightened around the plush.

She hated him.

She hated him more than ever.

⊹ ₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆₊⋆☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆₊ ⊹