Head throbbing, muscles aching, bright light too bright. He grumbled under his breath as he flexed his muscles, pain shooting through his limbs as he struggled to right himself wherever he was. Last thing he remembered was Dana outlined by a fuckton of white behind her, as if it was the god damn rapture. It was still just as bright now as it was then.

As soon as he thought that the light died down as if it knew his thoughts and wanted to make him more comfortable. He just gave a grunt the moment he finally righted himself and rubbed at his eyes, not caring to take a look where he was. Probably fainted or something and was in the medical lab, would explain the bright ass light in his face when he first woke up. Lowering his hands from his face he looked around, seeing completely nothing.

Not that he turned blind, no he could see his hands fine. It was the fact there was nothing to see, at all, no floor, no sky, nothing but inky blackness. That fact sent Mercer to his feet as he jumped up from his sitting position and looked around in a slight frenzy, completely confused as to what the fuck was going on. He kept whispering fuck under his breath as he kept turning in circles, his lab-coat twirling right with him like a cliche cape would move on a villain. He eventually sat back down as the lack of a floor was making him nauseous not to mention the storm of question going through his head.

Such as where was he? Where was here? How was he breathing? Was he in hell? No that question was too stupid even for the fucking situation he was in. To help with that he laid back down on the ground, so as to keep himself from looking down into an abyss that managed to have a floor that he couldn’t feel. There was no pressure on his back, which there should’ve been seeing as how he was on a floor, but since there was no pressure that meant there was just empty space. Which couldn’t be because he could feel that he was lying down where gravity was holding him down.

Closing his eyes he rubbed his temples, the thoughts racing through his head starting to become tangled beyond recognition. When he felt something finally pressing up against his back though he stopped his line of thinking to anything beyond, “What was that?”

His hands brushed something thin and a little bit cold, fabric. He opened his eyes yet again and was greeted with the white tiled ceiling of Gentek’s medical room, absent of any noise though which was completely off. In silence he sat up once more and looked around, the completely empty and lifeless area unnerving him, there would at least have been the buzz of people in the halls or Blackwatch troopers marching up and down said halls.

But no. All that there was, was the bed he was on and three others, a long counter with cabinets above and below it, a dozen or so seats, the window above said chairs and then the door. Out the window he could see only the wall and an empty cart set beside it. As if all that wasn’t a hint that something was wrong, he was still wearing his clothes.

In this Gentek building if you fell sick, they had you stripped, took samples of your blood, skin, spit and analyzed your clothes. In between that and the period that the test were finished you were dressed in much the same attire as a normal hospital patient would have. The main precaution they had was a keypad on the door to keep them locked in, randomized each time somebody was admitted. If that didn’t work, they had professional security to take care of it.

He felt as if he should head out the door but he waited, thinking over his situation. When he started moving it wasn’t to the door but instead to the drawers by the counter, where he started opening the drawers at random until he found what he needed. A scalpel laid before him, glistening under the faint lights. He reached for it, then stopped.

Why would he need this, asked a voice in his head. He wouldn’t need a scalpel for where he was going. But how did he know that, he didn’t even know if here was here. He needed it just in case, but he shouldn’t need it because he might hurt somebody with it. At the same time that was the damn point! His hand trembled above the scalpel as he argued with himself about the idea of picking up a fucking scalpel.

Since when did he care about hurting others? He fucking clawed his way through the opposition to get here. He beat those that so much as insulted his sister. He worked on the damned Blacklight virus, hell he was the one who fucking made it! He knew exactly what it’d do because he made it that way!

As those thoughts continued a pain started in his head, as if to dissuade him from thinking like that. But before too long he managed to snatch up the scalpel and walked out of the room, ignoring the pain as best as he could.

The moment he exited the room the pain became sudden and sharp, just like the scalpel he held in his right hand. Growling he stumbled forward down the empty halls of Gentek, left hand groping at the wall to help right himself. It was fucking protesting him grabbing a scalpel, something that was as common to him as a chain restaurant was on late nights. Trying to keep him from being him, and that was fucking insulting. Another step forward and it hit hard and sudden, as if plunging a knife into his head, making him drop to the ground in agony.

Hands clutching at the sides of his head and scalpel smashed between Mercer hissed, glaring at the empty hallway knowing that whatever brought him here was responsible for bringing him to his knees and reducing him to a fucking whimpering child. Because of a scalpel. It was afraid of him with a scalpel. Grinning madly he used the wall as a support as he slowly stood back up, the knuckles on his hand holding the scalpel turning white as he strangled the handle. Whatever protests that were in his mind before were gone now, replaced with finding what was responsible.

Stumbling down the halls he kept turning corners, the pain slowly fading as he grew more and more intent on finding the person. This wasn't his first time feeling a bit murderous, just the first time he felt on doing something on his own behalf, all the previous times being because of his sister. Although he never did murder somebody before, this would be welcome. Alien thoughts in his mind. Pain for picking up a scalpel of all things. Being stuck in an empty Gentek facility that was completely deserted and never seemed to end he noted as he turned another corner, one that should've been the exit.

He growled and kept moving, ears twitching for any type of sound beyond his own clumsy walk. Then he heard it, pitter-pattering against the building. Rain to his right. Looking down that way he saw nothing but another featureless hall, but it was the best he had right now. Pushing off the wall he started to jog down the halls, twisting and turning after the sound of rain, his rage simmering down to a mere boil instead of a volcano as he continued. The scalpel however remained ever present, glinting under every light he passed, the glint moving as he twirled it in his fingers as if it were a mere pencil.

After minutes of walking he finally came upon the exit once more, this time the door leading out actually being there, the glass panes being battered by rain. He almost didn't see the floating rainbow hair of a certain monarch out in the middle of the surrounding compound, waiting for him. He did see though and slowed down to a brisk walk, the scalpel easily sliding into his lab-coat's pocket. Now that he'd seen her he recognized the setting of where he was.

Alien thoughts in his head. Pain to dissuade him from picking up objects with a violent intent. Seemingly endless corridors where those alien thoughts would have gotten him used to the idea and ready for a big fucking talk. It all sounded like some converted people he had read about online, forced and free-willing. Somebody had slipped him a fucking conversion potion and he was going to turn into a fucking horse, but not before the 'nice' monarch got him used to the idea. He scowled, of course it would be this when he felt he was close to finishing the virus and removing its side-effects, this of course would fucking happen.

Pausing at the doors with his hands on the handles he looked at his hands. From what he read though, by now he'd at least be losing his fingers, but that wasn't the case he thought as he flexed said digits. A smile played at his face, of course he wouldn't let some damnable potion change his mind, they could change his body all they want but his fucking mind wasn't something they could change. Unless it was like his virus. But how could a race that called science 'magic' be competent enough to do that? Answer, they weren't. Affirmed with his own thinking he pushed the glass doors open and strode towards the alabaster colored monarch, clad in her fancy golden jewelry and content smile looking at him, rainbow mane fluttering on by her head, probably thinking him already hers.

The metallic object bouncing against his outer thigh disagreed with that fact though. So he gave her a smile too, able to fake one easily to her as he strode forward, the rain giving off an eerie atmosphere. Just like everywhere else the parking lot around Gentek was empty too, only Celestia. So he just kept walking towards her, hands slipping into his pocket and nonchalantly brushing his hand against the scalpel. The smooth and cold edged blade of the scalpel.

It reminded him of himself so much. Cold. Precise. And oh so ready to cut into his subject.

Author's Note

Part one of three.