Chapter 4

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Zane's skin was burning.

He was so very wrong about Wawrzynski's serum. It was real, and it was painful.

He felt as if liquid fire were eating away at his body, slowly but surely devouring him. He screamed and thrashed, but the bonds around his wrists and ankles held him rigid. His head tossed from side to side, and the doctors wisely backed away. One of them held the recently used needle that had injected Zane with a pinkish fluid, the stuff that made his skin burn.

Consciously, he knew his skin was not actually burning. It was simply a reaction to the serum that had been administered. But his rational brain was not doing the thinking. His thoughts were scattered, and his instincts yelled at him to run, to get as far away as possible. Sadly, that could not be the case.

His muscles seized and his head was thrown backward, bashing against the large metal table they had placed him on. His fingers splayed and his toes curled. A wave of pain struck him and he gasped for breath. His gut curdled. He screamed once again, cursing the world.

Slowly, the pain began to fade away until it was a dull ache in his sinuses and muscles. His eyes watered as the doctors undid the bonds. For a brief second, he considered attacking them. But it was not wise to attempt to overcome three full grown men with access to needles and scalpels. After two days here, he had begun to see the hopelessness. He wished for the confidence he had felt the first day, when he had been able to at least imagine that he could bring himself to escape, or that he might be given the chance. Now that he had seen the full extent of the security measures here, he severely doubted his plans.

Also, he hadn't been able to do anything unnatural. He had not succeeded in lifting the cards without his hands, he hadn't been able to summon fire like the boy he had seen on the hologram, nor lava like the girl he had seen through the door. It was highly frustrating that he was missing a key aspect to his nearly-impossible scheme.

Joseph had had slightly better luck.

When the doctors took Zane back to their room, Joseph was a queen of hearts.

Literally.

Since he had been injected on the first day, he had the bizarre ability to become whatever substance he touched. Once he had turned into something, the form stayed with him, almost like a database. Right now he was holding the queen of hearts and appeared to be made out of the same material as the card. There was a heart on his chest where his real heart resided, and an image of the queen plastered on his stomach.

"That's not a very useful one, is it?" Zane asked sarcastically as the door was thrown shut and locked behind him. He folded down one of the beds and flopped down, crossing his feet.

Joseph blushed as well as one could when one was a playing card. His cardboard face transformed into a scowl, and he threw the card expertly at Zane. The card bonked Zane on the temple, and Joseph turned back to normal. "Asshole," he muttered.

He was still wearing the white tee from under his suit, which still lay across the chair. He had rolled up the dress pants to just below his knees, giving him a certain sailor quality. He was barefoot, having discarded the fancy shoes almost immediately. His dark brown hair fell over his forehead, and his blue eyes peered curiously at Zane. The corner of his mouth twitched, which Zane found oddly endearing. His obvious tan was beginning to fade from being indoors, turning his skin a far paler hue. His shoulders were set as if preparing himself for something, and he hunched forward slightly as if a small rodent was making a home on his neck.

Zane gave him a charming smile. Being in Joseph's company for several days had increased their already growing bond. Being forced into a completely bizarre and alien procedure involving needles and suspiciously pink liquids had also helped. Everything was always faster when in a potentially life-threatening situation.

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