"…the samples show absolutely nothing. It's really strange, Mr. Vale."
Dr. Brooks' voice sounded muffled. He sounded so far away, even though he was standing right next to Helios.
Helios tried to turn his head in his direction, but unfortunately he still had no control over his body. The infusion with the sedative ran without pause. He was not allowed to so much as move a finger.
The drug made him nauseous. Time and again the nausea grew worse, only to subside thanks to his regeneration—only to return again at full intensity. It was a damned vicious circle from which he could not escape.
They didn't just want to control him. They wanted to break him.
Make him obedient.
Prevent him from resisting whatever it was they had planned for him.
He could do nothing but wait. How much time had passed? He had lost all sense of it since being brought here. He no longer knew what day it was, nor what time of day.
The sedation made his thoughts sluggish, dragging along as if through thick fog. He hated this feeling of numbness. If anything, they should have just put him completely to sleep until it was all over. But of course, even that was denied him.
His father wanted him kept conscious.
He was not allowed to sleep.
It was a tactic meant to push him further into producing the serum and obeying his father. A form of psychological torture. Keeping Helios in limbo, robbing him of any sense of time, imprisoning him within his own body.
Should he be grateful that at least he was allowed to see, hear, and speak?
"That can't be, Doctor!" his father hissed, irritated. "He's immortal, for God's sake! How can it be that not a single sample shows any results?"
How many needles had they driven into him by now? How much blood had the doctor taken? How many samples had his body already been forced to give? Not that it really mattered—after all, every single cell regenerated within seconds, as if nothing had ever happened.
The consequences of the examinations he did not feel. Only the exhaustion.
Yet Helios had the feeling it would not be much longer before the increasingly desperate doctor would begin searching for other ways to finally get his results.
He wanted to get out of here. More than anything, he wanted to escape.
He could hardly bear being chained to this metal table any longer.
Every second longer chained to that cold metal table was torture. His muscles screamed for movement, his soul for freedom. But the sedative held him in invisible chains. Aside from the visible ones.
How much longer would it be until Dante reached him…?
Did it even matter? In truth, the certainty that Dante would do anything to save him should have been enough. He only had to wait for Dante to come and get him. Surely that oversized, muscular Golden Retriever of a man was already on his way to rescue him. Helios hoped Dante would hurry. He couldn't bear having to stare at his mother's corpse for hours again.
Since he had been forced to visit his mother, a hollowness had taken hold of him that he couldn't shake. Something inside him had broken, and he was never left alone long enough to tend to his wounds.
Someone was always with him. Someone was always speaking to him. They tried sweet words, tried to win his favor, even though he lay so undignified, bound to this table. It was so contradictory that he felt like laughing out loud.
He couldn't believe what his father was doing here. How could anyone be so utterly deluded as to romanticize a damned corpse the way his father did?
But who was he to judge?
Wouldn't he have done the same to Davis if he could have secured his body immediately?
He dismissed that absurd thought at once. Dead was dead. He would never have preserved Davis or experimented on him. He had loved that man; he still missed him often, but he would never have done to him what his father was doing to his mother.
His father's face swam into Helios's blurred vision.
"Helios, my beloved boy. Are you awake?"
"What do you want?" His voice was little more than a whisper, rough and tired.
He refused to look at him, deliberately staring past him into the void.
"You must know something about your immortality. Won't you share your knowledge with us?" his father asked in a conciliatory tone. "I could arrange for you to get off this table. To wear warm clothes and have something to eat. Would you like to move a little? How does that sound?"
He was cold, as if lying naked in the snow. He was hungry. He wanted to drink Thomas's coffee. He wanted not just warm clothes, but Dante's warmth. He wanted to move so badly he would do anything. It tormented him — he wanted to scream, to cry, to kill everyone in this damned underground lab. He wanted to see everyone who had touched his body suffer.
He wanted to finally bury his mother, and he wanted to watch his father wail with despair before he blew out his damned life-light.
At that moment Helios had so many desires they became unbearable.
It would be so easy to simply let go and give in. He would definitely have a more pleasant time down here if he just surrendered.
But he didn't want to.
His pride was stronger.
The image of his mother was still vivid before his eyes. It was probably the worst thing that had ever been done to him. His father would pay for it.
He fixed his gaze back on the man who had done this to him. "No."
"This is your last chance, Helios. Choose wisely," his father hissed.
Helios snorted. "That would make this my third 'last chance.' Your words are losing weight, Father."
Anger flickered across his father's face. With a hard slap he brought his fist down on the cold metal of the table—only inches from Helios's head. The impact sounded like thunder in the sterile room. Helios did not even flinch. The regeneration, the nausea, the sedation… the encounter with his mother's corpse… it had numbed him.
"Goddamn it!" his father snapped at him. "How can you be so stubborn?!"
Who do I take that from…? Helios thought coldly, and paid his father no further mind.
His father turned to the doctor.
"Whatever it takes to finally get results, do it!" he growled.
"Y-yes, sir!" the doctor replied, clearing his throat. "So it's okay if I… I mean, you were against—"
"When I say 'everything,' I mean everything, Doctor." His voice went icy. "I want results. I want to know how this immortality works and how to reproduce it. Start — or someone else will take your place."
He leaned over Helios again. "We'll see each other in a few hours," his father snarled. Then his tone softened somewhat. "If you behave, I'll take you back to Ophelia. You seemed to like the last meeting. I'm truly delighted that our family is finally reunited."
His words sent a cold shiver down Helios's spine. He did not want to be taken back into that room and forced to stare at them forever. He felt the trembling run through his limbs. No—he must not show fear. His father was playing his damn psychological games. He knew how much it disgusted him to see his mother.
So he used it to make Helios compliant.
Never.
He would not bow.
His father would not break him.
Yet he couldn't utter a single word — no sharp remark to mask his fear. He just lay there and kept his mouth shut.
His father's face was so close he could see the smile on it.
He gave Helios a kiss on the forehead, just as he used to when Helios was a child.
"We'll see each other later. Be good and listen to the doctor," his father said, leaving him on the cold metal table.
The doctor in question pushed a tray beside Helios — scalpels, clamps, forceps, and various other tools needed for surgery. Helios saw no anesthetic among them.
Of course not. His father knew he couldn't be tempted with comfort. He wanted the formulas and seemed willing to do whatever it took to get them.
The doctor pulled on a coat, mask, and gloves.
"What's the plan, Doctor?" Helios's voice was calm, almost bored.
The doctor sighed. He came closer and placed a hand on Helios's shoulder.
"I'll just take a few samples. At least for now," he promised, his voice tinged with regret.
"So — tissue samples, more blood, maybe some cerebrospinal fluid and bone marrow?" Helios suggested in a matter-of-fact tone.
The doctor looked at him, startled.
"That's how I'd do it," Helios continued, meeting his gaze directly. "You do know you're not going to find anything, right?"
Something dark crossed the doctor's face. A shadow of frustration. Of fear.
"I need to deliver results, otherwise…"
"Yeah, yeah — otherwise he'll do terrible things to you," Helios said mockingly. He smiled at the doctor, sweet as poison. "Do what you have to do. But make no mistake — I'll do far worse to you when I get off this table."
The doctor swallowed hard. Uncertainty crept into his eyes. His fingers fidgeted restlessly over the instruments.
"What are you waiting for?" Helios's voice sliced through the silence. "My father demands results. You shouldn't keep him waiting." Then his expression darkened, hard and cold as steel. "Let's get this over with."
The doctor pressed his lips together, his breathing quickening.
"Shit," he finally muttered, as if he had just signed his own death sentence.