A Hero's 'Tail'

“Oooooh… My head. W-where am I?” I asked, scanning the area.

I was strapped to a table most uncomfortably. The room had the clean, clinical feel of a hospital, with whitewashed walls, IV’s, vials, and needles.

“You are in the Research and Development department of the New Lunar Republic’s military headquarters.” A voice said over a speaker hanging from a corner of the room. “You are going to be used in testing, foal. You are not to resist.”

At which point I began trying to squirm free.

“And you are to comply with EVERY order I see fit to give. Understand?” the Voice asked.

I shouted with all my might at the intercom, “NEVER!”

A shock of electricity surged through my body. I jittered and jumped in place. The pain was agonizing. Slowly, the shock faded leaving me on the metal table, breathing hard.

“Now, you are to comply with every order I see fit to give. Understand?”

… “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now, just relax. An attendant will come and administer the first dosages to you shortly…”

I’ve been in this place a week. The same griffon has been coming in every day, inoculating me with drugs after feeding me breakfast from my new 3 by 3 cell.
But today was different. I was muzzled, haltered, and led into a large gymnasium somewhere in this hellhole.
The room was very large, triple the size and height of 3 hoofball stadiums. Everything was metallic, and gray, with the dull texture reminiscent of heat-treated stainless steel plating. There were large red and white targets hovering all throughout the room at impossible lengths from the floor. The targets glowed a faint yellow, as if from some magical aura.
That voice, which I’d figured was coming from a female, rumbled from the slanted ceilings.

“Good, good. We’ll be doing a field test of your current… modifications. My attendant will come down and outfit you with a pair of artificial wings. Watch him closely, for you will need to do this yourself after today.” Ordered the Voice.

The griffon leading me walked through a large door with metal plates on it, presumably to prevent escape attempts. The griffon left the room, and returned a minute later carrying a pair of wings and a large soda. I was confused.

I asked him, “What’s with the soda?”

He just grinned a griffon’s grin and said, “You’ll see, young one.”

He then proceeded to pop the caps off two shiny metal holes in my back that’d I’d never noticed I had, and fitted the wings into the sockets.

“Try swiveling them.” He suggested, pulling back to watch me with his one eye.

I hesitantly willed the wings to move, and to my surprise and astonishment, they did! I made several circular motions with these strange, bronze-esque contraptions, then willed them to beat like a hummingbirds. They promptly complied, lifting me a few feet in the air.

I gently landed myself as the Voice began speaking, “Now, child. Drink that bottle of soda as fast as you can.”

Not reluctant to turn down a can of pop, I flipped it with agility and guzzled the syrupy goodness, letting it burn my throat with its carbonation. Soon, I felt heat in my stomach, and with an almighty belch, summoned forth a blue-white fireball about a meter in diameter. I sprang back in shock.

The Voice chuckled, “Yes. You can breathe fire, fireballs, to be exact. Now, I want you to fly around and take out all these targets as fast as you can. 3…”

I kneeled down into a ready position, wings fluttering…

“2… 1… Begin.”

I took off like a bullet towards my first target, belching flame all the way. My first two shots went wide, but the third landed dead center, and the target shattered into a million pieces. I zoomed right through the wreckage, claiming target after target with my flames. When I had finished, I was ordered to land, and then led back to my cell.

The griffon got lost while guiding me back, so we didn’t make it till what I assume was nightfall. My wings had been locked up tight, and I’d run out of spare air for flame belching, though I could smoke at the mouth on command.

I yawned, and said to myself, “Time for some sleep.”

As I lay down on the palette, however, slumber eluded me. My mind wandered back to my friends. Rudolph had been killed.

I blamed myself, thinking, we weren’t allowed in that pasture anyways. Rudy didn’t wanna go either.

I sulked at my horrid decision till I passed out in misery.

During flame practice today I got up the nerve to ask the Voice how long it’s been since my initial imprisonment. She just said that it was none of my business, but that I’d be going somewhere else after this. At the conclusion of flame training I was brought into a new room filled with obstacles. It was the same dreary gray color as the flame gymnasium with the same material as the wall.

“We have added a new modification. Go ahead and try it out. Jump these hurdles as fast as you can, and reach the goal. Analyze the track before you begin,” instructed the Voice.

I took a look around. The track seemed pretty straightforward until I peered past the yellow and black hurdles.

“Why is there a bottomless pit?” I inquired, straining my neck to get a better look.

“Oh, I don’t know. An obstacle maybe?” the Voice asked sarcastically.

“Furthermore,” I queried, “how am I supposed to get up to the goal? It’s nearly a story up, and I don’t have wings right now.”

I felt another shock of electricity pulse through me. I knelt to the ground, groaning in pain.

“Figure it out, you imbecile! Now get going!” the Voice said angrily as the pain began to subside.

Alright then, I thought to myself.

I stood, and then sprinted off towards the hurdles. I suddenly felt lighter than air as I leaped over the first hurtle. I then released pressure on the floor and slid under the second hurtle, springing up without losing momentum on the slippery floor. I dashed headlong toward the wall. Without breaking stride I began pushing against the wall both downward and sideward with all my might. A gleeful laugh erupted from my throat. I was wall running! I leaped up, attempting to spread wings that I currently did not have, and cleared the goal. I skidded to a halt at the edge of the hovering platform, puffing my chest out with pride.

“Impressive job,” coldly complimented the Voice. “Expect to complete these courses every day in addition to your flame training.”

I bounded back down to the floor and was muzzled once again.

Tonight in my concrete cube of a cell, I noticed something strange. There was a saucer with a single cookie on it, lying on the metallic plate that passed for my bed. I shed a single tear because the cookie gave me hope. My mind raged in a storm of emotions as I settled down for the night. Part of me thought I was capable of freeing myself, but another, nagging doubt gnawed away at that determination. This night promised to be as miserable as the previous several.

The next (what I assume to be) month or so passed uneventfully.

One day, as I completed the obstacle course, The Voice announced nonchalantly, “We have a new exercise for you to complete today.”

“Alrighty, bring it on!” I replied, walking off the goal platform as it lowered to let me off.

“Don’t get cocky, twerp,” the Voice retorted, shocking me yet again.

Chastened, I was harnessed and muzzled, then led by the griffon into a strangely familiar room. The place was overly clean and clinical, and there was a table with metal straps on it.

Where have I seen this place before?I wondered, moving into a corner to await instructions.

“Go ahead and sit on the table. An attendant will come in to help you,” the Voice proclaimed coldly.

I went ahead and plopped down on the cold metallic surface, remembering the shocks the Voice could administer at command. Three large griffons entered the room and grabbed me roughly by the forelegs, strapping me down. I began bucking wildly in a panic, spitting flame and curses alternatively. A long, hard shock ‘calmed’ me.
I remember this place. This is the place where they first took me after they caught me! I thought, wanting to resume bucking even more.

“In preparation for what we would have you do, you will undergo pain resistance training. You will be tortured every day… Just… Like… This,” the Voice quipped.

Every pause brought a flash of pain.

When I got back to my cell that night, I found an empty bottle with a message inside of it. After some finagling I managed to extricate the letter from the soda tumbler. In an untidy scrawl was written on the scrap of paper:

Brutus,
Every day I will send you a bottle of pop as a treat for enduring the tortures the Mistress inflicts upon you. (So the Voice IS a girl! I remarked under my breath) I assume you will want to save your soda instead of drinking it, in. For a special occasion, you see. To allow you to save your bottles I have made you a little hidey-hole for your soda.

I gasped, an idea forming in my head. Recently, a pair of black, leathery wings (supposedly a byproduct of my ‘modifications’) had begun to erupt from my back. Those wings plus the soda could get me a way out of here! I slept better that evening than I had in a long time.