All he could see was grey. It was confusing. He could have sworn there was once color but his memory was. . . faded. Tucked away, somewhere in his mind. He could feel it. Almost see it. Not quite; like when you think you see something move in the corner of your eye but when you glanced directly at it, it was gone. He could hear it sometimes. It came in the form of a woman's laugh. A humming of a song he knew deep in his soul yet couldn't utter a word of. The whispered murmurs of lovers embraced. Yet when he searched his mind for where these came from, there was nothing. No memory or even thought on it besides 'where' and 'what.' Even that would pass by.
The where didn't often bother him. He knew he was somewhere cold and the walls were made of stone. Sometimes he would press his hand to the uneven walls, as if that would give him answers. Oftentimes, when he lifted his hand, he couldn't remember what he was doing in the first place. Wherever he was was a maze. A series of tunnels that led to seemingly nowhere. It didn't make sense but he could navigate these twists and turns with a knowledge he couldn't trace. He could find his way to the cafeteria where he ate food he couldn't taste. He could find his way to his dorms where he slept amongst the others. He could find his way to specific sectors and halls.
Whenever he didn't know what came next, there came those who talked.
Around him were others. He didn't know who they were yet he walked with them, ate with them, slept in the same room as them on the same style cots. Some of them talked, some of them didn't. Regardless, none of them looked. . . right. Like there was something wrong with them, he decided. Yet, the second he tried to figure it out, that thought would also leave his head. Sometimes he'd catch himself looking at their hands, their eyes, their skin. Then, he didn't know why. And he would walk.
Those who talked, instructed. He didn't know where they got their orders from or why; yet, when he was given instructions, he followed. They told him to eat, he ate. They told him to sleep, he went to sleep. They told him to work, he worked.
The work was simple. Man this route of the caves, work the food lines, clean that. He did it with no question. It gave him a purpose, not that he could find himself caring. He didn't have much of an urge to do anything. The work was fine but he didn't need it. The sleep was deep but he never felt tired. The food was filling but he never felt hungry. He did all this because he was told. Sometimes, when the questions came to mind, he wondered if would wither away without this direction. That thought, like all the others, would fade as it came.
Sometimes he would wake up, that laugh haunting him. And he would want. For a moment, he would want. To find the giggle, to make it happen again. He would reach for it; thrusting himself out of bed and making it as far as the door of the dorm before the thought faded. The door knob, always cold in his hand, would turn. Then, with a confusion filling him, he would let it go. THe door stayed closed. And he would walk back to bed.
He knew nothing. And when he found himself searching for something, that too would become lost.
Malum was rather pleased with the result of the wolf.
No longer did the wolf want or pester him with these requests. He no longer brought up his wife or his child or his rights. He had previously found him to be much like a pestering child but no longer. Matter of fact, he barely had to deal with Christopher at all anymore. Occasionally, he passed him in the halls but the wolf paid no mind. He didn't think the wolf recognized him anymore.
That happened to the experiments sometimes. They would lose most if not all of their previous personality. Many became like robots, walking around without much thought. Their strengths often increased too, though sometimes at the loss of their wolf. Christopher had yet to display any purpose as his new self but Malum was sure he could put the wolf to use eventually.
His hand traced through the path on the map he had long since memorized. The way to The Paramount Pack.
He needed the boy back, he wasn't done with him yet. The boy is the only link he has to the lycans, the original of their kind. The blood he was convinced would save his experimentation. It didn't pass his mind that in the years he had the boy under his watch, the boy never aged. No lines formed on his face, his hair never thinned. Malum had changed, even his experiments had changed. He had met the boy many moons ago and last he saw him, he still looked the same. Yes, the boy needed to return. Even if he had to destroy the entire Paramount Pack while he's at it.
Of course, he intended to destroy The Paramount Pack anyways. The girl had signed the letter of her fate the day she spit on him. He was already infuriated that day and her action built a black ball of spite inside him. The second she was able to get away with the boy, that ball grew and the letter was sealed. Now all that was to come would be deliverance. Malum would take down The Paramount Pack. He would kill the runt nice and slow in front of Lycer while the pack grounds burned behind them. He chuckled at the thought, a lightness coming to him at the mere idea. The Paramount Pack was one of the largest packs on this side of the country and it was bound to make waves. Waves he would gleefully rise through. He didn't know his next course of actions would be coming before his experimentations were truly and fully successful but life comes when it wants to. After The Paramount Pack, he would take out surrounding packs. Then spread across the country, leaving only the small packs to stand alone or join him. Then, he'd take on the werewolf council. Maybe that's where his true answer lay. With the council torn apart, he could pick through their resources. The council is large and surely has their share of medical and scientific personnel. He could use that. Yes, yes this all would be for the better.