Chapter Text
Their latest subject writhed on the sterile white floor. He clawed at his own throat, moaned through a clenched jaw and bared teeth. His eyes were dark. The whites were maroon red from burst blood vessels, and his wide-blown pupils eclipsed any other color in his irises. He stared at the glass wall in front of him, tears running free. Every tendon and muscle in his already sinewy body strained against his skin as he flailed and arched his back, body desperate to escape the agony.
He wrenched his jaw open with a guttural cry that petered out with a gurgled gasp of air to wetly punctuate it. His mouth remained open, gaping in a now silent scream. Frothy, pink saliva drooled from his mouth. Blood stained his teeth and tongue.
Wisps of the gas swirled around the room, ribbons of bright red that clung to the corners and danced away from the subject’s erratic movements.
Metus watched it all happen, as he had watched it happen to all the others. The scientists took their notes and whispered at one another – nodded along like this was groundbreaking and not the same thing they’d seen and seen and seen.
He scratched at his beard and stuffed down the urge to sigh.
It was all very dramatic in the first few hellish moments, but soon the subject would become paralyzed, he wouldn’t be able to breathe anymore and would suffocate. Or he’d drown in his blood first. His body would continue to shut down, the scientists would continue to monitor him, take more notes, and eventually, the subject would die, and they would start anew.
They had done this enough times and he was tired of watching the same process.
Metus’ vision began to flicker, glitching. Lines erupted in static across his left eye lens. He tapped his fingers against his temple until it cleared and glared around the room to make sure none of the science team had seen.
To make matters worse, he couldn’t lower his hand back down. He had to reach up with his other hand and yank his arm back down to his side.
That damn Kraut. He said he fixed it this time.
“Move on to phase two,” his boss droned from the speaker on the desk. “And Metus, you must be ready. They will be coming.”
“I’m ready,” Metus said. He spun away from the now feeble and weakly groaning subject and marched from the room. The scientists were easy enough to command and very frightened of him. They could get started on phase two without him there to oversee their work.
If he was to be fighting SHIELD’s very best then he needed a tune-up with Nachtnebel first.