The timer burned in my vision: 23:59:45.
I approached Cory's chair. My scaled claws were still slick with Gareth's intestines as I ripped the filthy gag from his mouth.
Cory gasped. His eyes darted between my reptilian arm and Jason's corpse.
I leaned close and breathed hot against his ear. "You live if you answer every question, or else—."
He gulped as he caught a glint of my claws. "I—I understand."
23:59:12.
"What were those lizards? Where did they come from?"
"I don't know everything, I swear. But I heard Gareth on the phone. They're specimens from beyond the Fortress walls. I think I heard him call them Dragoshards."
My scaled arm twitched. The timer kept counting.
23:58:20.
Cory paused to catch a breath.
"Keep going!"
Words tumbled from his mouth like coins from a slot machine. "There's a doctor. He's in the old abandoned hospital at the edge of the center district. He's been conducting experiments with the Blessed. He knows about these lizards' true nature."
My eyes narrowed. "What kind of experiments?"
"The hospital sits in a dead zone. Even the Fortress guards won't patrol there."
The acid blood timer showed 23:57:45. This could be it—the key to understanding what flowed through my veins.
"Where exactly?"
"North edge of center district. The building's huge. You can't miss it."
The countdown continued its relentless march.
Without warning, I drove my claws forward.
Cory's skull was easier to crack open than a peanut.
I wiped the blood from my claws on his clothes. No remorse. The bastard sealed his own fate.
The timer stopped.
I searched the corpses, tearing strips from the cleanest clothing I could find. The fabric resisted as I wrapped my scaled arm, the oily iridescence bleeding through the thin material. Even covered, the limb felt like it belonged to someone else.
Footsteps echoed in the corridor outside.
Three more thugs burst through the doorway—machetes and chains gleaming in the light. Their eyes widened at the carnage. Crimson covered every surface.
The largest one, scarred and missing two fingers, snarled at me.
My wrapped arm twitched. The bulletproof skin blessing made me feel invincible.
They charged headfirst.
I parried the attack. The first thug's machete slid across my skin, and an uppercut to his chin laid him flat. I sliced through the second one's throat. The third tried to flee, but I caught his ankle and dragged him back screaming. A single squeeze crushed his spine.
All three died, that too within seconds. Their blood pooled with the rest.
I stepped out of the underground chamber into the Fortress's gray twilight. The air tasted of rust. Yeah, and Dekaros was still there in the sky, doing who knows what.
Below, the city clawed its way back from ruin. I looked past the hulking remnants of the Earth I knew. Fractured concrete monoliths. Skeletal ribs of a dead stadium. Makeshift structures had grown from. Salvaged steel held them together. Scavenged polymers filled the gaps. Sheets of corrugated iron covered everything. Their metal rattled constantly, and the metallic sigh never stopped.
New walls rose, crude and uneven, patched billboards still screaming faded advertisements for the rich. Streets were mere rutted tracks through the debris. They twisted beneath rickety skywalks strung like cobwebs between leaning towers. Bio-lanterns flickered everywhere. They burned through algae-like growths cultivated in old fuel tanks. The light, despite being green, was unlike my arm. It cast pools across the ground. But it didn't dispel the shadows. It deepened them instead.
The glow made everything look diseased. Like the city had gangrene.
The air was thick but at least breathable as I delved deeper into the Fortress' heart. However, the acrid tang of smelters burning unknown fuels stung my nostrils.
Distant clangs echoed through the streets, silencing my footfalls. Hammers on metal from the Foundry District. The sound never stopped. Jury-rigged generators roared between the strikes. Scaffolding crusted the half-finished spires. Figures swarmed across the metal framework. Stained work gear covered their bodies. Respirators hid their faces. Or maybe just grime.
I navigated twisted alleyways toward the hospital district. A prickling sensation crawled up my spine. Every shadow moved on its own.
Something tracked me through the maze of abandoned buildings and collapsed overpasses. I spun around, scanning rooftops and darkened doorways.
Nothing real or solid. Only suggestions of movement that vanished when directly observed.
After half an hour or so of navigating decaying streets, I found the abandoned hospital. Its windows were boarded with rusted metal. The facade was covered in warning symbols. Broken medical equipment littered the entrance. The stench of old death wafted from within.
Wow, even thugs had avoided this place. I approached the main entrance and found heavy chains and fresh locks securing the doors.
I circled the building and found a service entrance leading to basement levels. Flickering lights hinted at recent activities. Deep in the underground corridors, I discovered a reinforced iron door marked with biohazard symbols and fresh scratch marks.
I initially knocked with my untouched hands, but the silence ticked me off. I banged the metal slab of a door thrice before a response came in.
"Who in their right mind would—"
The words stopped as I caught a glimpse of a bald man with pale ochre skin and wrinkles. Several dark red stains were scattered across his lab coat.
"I'm looking for—"
The old chump slammed the door, but I slipped my foot in between it and the metallic door frame.
I gripped the door's edge and flung it open.
He flinched and stumbled. I was disappointed that his expression was still stern, like stone carvings. He got back on his feet, dusting his spoiled lab coat.
"What sort of a son of a whore comes in like that? Can't see the sign, dimwit?"
The veins in my forehead bulged, but I kept my calm. As I looked into the chamber, my jaws stretched open.
Before me was a room cluttered with cages of chameleons. It was like the one that crawled down my throat. The dim red light made their shades harder to distinguish. There were glass vessels, too, containing what looked like skinned human specimens.
The scientist, or doctor as they call him, pushed his hands against. However, I didn't budge.
"I'm here for answers." I said.
"I'm not bound to answer your stupid queries, alright? I'm busy!"
I sighed and looked at his futile attempt. Was he serious? At this point, I unwrapped the bandages hiding my scaly hand.
"Oh! So it was a success…'', the madman's voice changed into a mix of surprise and disappointment.
"Like I said, Gramps, I'm here for answers."
"Come on in," he said as he closed the door. "I don't have much time either."