FicWad

NOTES: For your information Malakh is the Hebrew word for "Angel". Just so you know. :)

The car had tinted windows, not that it mattered. The darkness seemed denser than normal, a thick treacle of blackness and smog that Izzy couldn't see through. Tinted windows or no tinted windows, as far as Izzy was concerned someone may as well have thrown a cloak over the car. He'd made out a few, people-shaped, shadows as he'd been bundled in but that had been it. Now he was alone. Alone and scared.

Still restrained and with his shoulders fast freezing up, Izzy listlessly stared out of the window of the fast moving vehicle. There was no-one else with him and a darkened partition separated him from whoever was driving. The driver sped up and slowed, constantly changing direction. It was no route that Izzy had ever taken and he suspected it was a tactic to confuse him as to their whereabouts.

Izzy felt cold with fear, goosebumps sweeping across his body. Scared, alone and facing an unknown future Izzy did the one thing he'd promised himself he'd never do again. He cried. His skinny body shook with silent sobs, tears falling from his closed eyes. But unlike before, there was no-one to wipe them away. No-one to hold him and tell him that everything was going to be okay. Because everything was a long way from being okay. Several weeks ago, he'd been just another Indiana escapee trying to make his way in the big, bad City of Angels. Now he was being taken somewhere, somewhere far away from the comfort zone of the cruddy room. Somewhere far away from the person who'd loved and supported him through the shock of his current predicament.

Quelling the tears, Izzy rested his head against the cool glass of the window. There was nothing out there, no-one to save him. Finally, his body exhausted from cold and fear, he fell asleep, the car rocking him into a fitful slumber.

~~~~

The car broke hard, jolting Izzy awake. He couldn't tell where they were, but from the change in the acoustics, he had a feeling that they were in some kind of tunnel. A light glowed through the blacked out windows, yet it gave no indication of where they were. The terror that had disappeared during his sleep began to grow again, knotting in his stomach and making him feel ill.

The door of the car opened and Father Durrant looked in. Izzy just sat and glared, the terror being replaced by hate.

"Come on Jeffrey." The Father gave Izzy what he assumed was supposed to be a friendly smile. "You're safe now."

Izzy didn't move, instead just narrowing his eyes and pursing his lips.

"Where's Slash?" he demanded. "He'd better be fuckin' safe."

"Your... friend is safe," Durrant said with a sigh. "Now come on. There's people I want you to meet."

Izzy sighed and did the maths. He was a long way from home, in a dark tunnel and possibly underground. There was no way out, not without a fight. It seemed pointless; he'd probably only wind up dead anyway.

Would that be such a bad thing? he thought. Dead and away from here.

Thoughts of Slash filtered into his smarting brain and Izzy realised that he was going to have to stay alive if he wanted to see Slash again. Groaning, he tried to move but his muscles were seized and locked, red-hot pain shooting through him.

"I'll come," he growled, "if you remove all of this shit first."

The Father grimly nodded, eyes never leaving him as if he half expected Izzy to try and escape. Stumbling from the car, Izzy stood silently while the straps were removed from his body. As they fell away, he let out a sigh of pleasure and rolled his shoulders, his hands rubbing his numb wrists. The wings stretched out, bones and muscles creaking and cracking back into place. The grimace on his face softened as the pain eased.

Blinking, Izzy looked around himself. He'd been right: they were in a tunnel, the roof arching high above them. Stretching his neck muscles, Izzy saw that the entrance they'd obviously come through was blocked off. The only light was provided by low orange lights set high in the wall. There was no life or colour, just hard grey concrete and artificial light, algae and water staining the cracked stone. The sensation of being closed in and trapped made Izzy's feel ill and queasy, his head swimming.

The Father smiled at him. "Come on Jeffrey. We need to go."

Durrant strode off ahead of him and towards a slab of steel. It filled the end of the tunnel, lacklustre and imposing. The Father stepped to one side of it, pulling Izzy with him. With a dull fascination, Izzy watched as he pressed an eye to a panel at the side of the block of metal. A beeping sound began to fill the tunnel and Izzy stared, his jaw falling open as the slab began to slowly swing open. Motors and relays moaned and clicked as it effortlessly eased open, revealing a smaller tunnel beyond it.

"Follow me." Durrant's voice pierced Izzy's brain.

The excitement of being unrestrained was quickly replaced by dread as he stepped through the massive entrance. There was an ominous feeling to the place, like something was lurking deep in the bowels, waiting to wake and devour its human offerings.

Father Durrant turned and gave the wide-eyed Izzy a smile. "Welcome to the Mesa Research Facility. I can't tell you where we are for security reasons but this is where the original angel is being held. Hopefully you'll get to meet him presently."

Izzy just nodded, taking in his new surroundings. Cables and tubes ran along the ceiling of the low tunnel while soft hissing sounds emanated from grilles set in the walls. The air was warm and musty, tainted with foreign smells. Izzy stretched the wings a little, letting the tiny draft of air rustle through the feathers. It was positively luxurious compared to the weeks spent banished away in Slash's cramped room. Still, the feeling of stretching the wings didn't stop him from feeling queasy as a little known sixth sense told him to get out. But how? Izzy was trapped, a guest, he suspected, of the US government.

As they walked, Izzy saw no-one else. It was as if they were the last people on the planet, hidden away in some massive bunker. It was eerie and formidable and Izzy felt the hackles on his neck rising, goosebumps of fear racing over his skin. Gently he rubbed his arms in an effort feel better.

The tunnel sloped to another steel door and Durrant pulled out a plastic card, swiping it through a panel of buttons and lights.

"Nearly there." He gave Izzy another of his supposedly reassuring smiles.

Izzy gritted his teeth and tried to smile. But it wasn't happening, so nervous that even his own muscles were giving up on him.

There was a clunk and a hiss and the door swung open. They stepped through and into darkness. The fluorescent light gave a brief glimpse of an antechamber before the door thudded shut behind them, making Izzy jump. His heart thumped in his chest and his ragged breath echoed off the stone walls

High on the wall, a red light began to flash and there was the sound of something sliding back.

"Step forward," the Father's now familiar voice spoke close to his head.

Izzy did as he was told and the second door clanged shut behind them, immersing them in darkness. A thick and unforgiving darkness with an unnerving silence. A silence that eclipsed even Izzy's scared panting.

Suddenly there was a loud thunk and Izzy closed his eyes as a bright white light flooded over him. It burnt into his eyelids, spots floating across his eyes. For a moment, Izzy wondered if he was dead but then Father Durrant spoke, his voice harsh and more projected than before.

"Gentlemen, you come from the highest echelons of your organisations. For over two decades, you've been waiting for this moment. The moment when Project Malakh finally came to fruition and we finally have proof that science and religion can co-exist."

Izzy cracked his eyes open, bringing up a hand to shield himself from the harsh glare. He found himself standing in a circle of lights with Durrant striding around him. With his heart in his throat, Izzy tracked the dog-collared man as he strode around the wide circle. There were obviously people on the other side of the circle but the lights were angled so that they could see in while he couldn't see out.

Durrant continued: "Gentlemen, you are looking at the remaining survivor of Project Malakh. His name is Jeffrey Dean Isbell, birth-date April 8th 1962, specimen number PM015. While the others withered and died, he fought against the odds and grew into the hybrid you see before you. As our religious advisers predicted, his wings became permanent on first sexual contact, thus giving him the appearance of an angel. As you all hoped, he is the first and only one of his kind, an angel walking upon on the earth." The Father stepped up to Izzy, standing beside him. "As you can see, PM015 is young and male and will no doubt make a fine breeding stock. Although." Durrant gave a sneering laugh. "Those wings came from a homosexual relationship so you may have problems getting him to breed in the normal way, if you get my meaning. Anyway, if that's not what you want, well, some of you are powerful religious men so he could be used to cement your evangelistic domination." He gave a snort laugh, a hand tightly gripping Izzy's shoulder. "Now, you're all here for one reason and one reason only so how about we start the bidding at a quarter of a billion dollars."

Izzy's went wide and his knees buckled, bile rising in his throat. He was no longer free, he was being sold, sold to the highest bidder for who knew what. All of a sudden, his entire personality, his entire being, had been ripped apart and replaced by a string of numbers and spliced DNA.

Somewhere, above him, a conversation began.

"Father Durrant," a stern male voice began. "While we greatly appreciate what you've done in tracking down PM015, you have no right to sell it. It is US government property so I respectfully request that you hand it over to us."

"With all due respect, Colonel," said Durrant, his voice rising, "if the US Government wants it then they should pay the price. There's been bounty on PM015's head for many years."

There was a sigh, before the same voice spoke again. "With all due respect, /Father/, it is already US government property. Its DNA was altered by our scientists and it is therefore still our property. It was only through the failure of the proper departments that meant it survived so long in the wild. You are right Father, there is a bounty on its head but this money is a fixed sum and I will not be swayed into changing it."

Slowly, Izzy sank to the cold concrete floor, half listening to the raised voices and half contemplating his future. There was no escape, none that he could see anyway. Even if he'd wanted to escape, and had put in a bid for it, he'd still have been dead before he'd reached the door. Wings or no wings, he wasn't going anywhere. He sighed, slowly giving up, resigning himself to whatever destiny they had planned for him.

"Colonel." Durrant seemed to be getting annoyed. "If you plan on keeping it a secret, then what was the point of Malakh? Surely it was to be used as proof of a higher power, therefore keeping the population submissive? We already our army of on-air evangelists who keep these people chained to their TV's day in, day out. But soon the people will rebel. Soon they will start seeing through the lies we're feeding them. Soon they'll want change and you'll start to lose your control."

The Colonel spoke, obviously irritated, "Father, we have never lost our control. The evangelists can tell these people whatever they choose and they will believe it. You should know Father, that these people are like sheep. They'll follow whoever they're told to and do whatever they're told to. And, once we say so, they'll come to us, like lambs to the slaughter."

"Yes Colonel, but there's been reports of falling TV audiences. These people, the ones you want to control, are leaving."

"Quite the contrary Father. The audiences have been growing year on year. You've seen the rallies. Tens of thousands of people, all wanting to be touched by these men in the belief that they'll actually be healed. Father, you're just upset that you never had the charisma to be one of them. Project Malakh was never always going to be implemented. It was an experiment that, through your loyalty, has been proven to have worked. There is no more need for it. The angel and PM015 will now be destroyed along with all of the project's records. As of now, Project Malakh is terminated. Thank you, Father Durrant, for your help."

A gunshot, as crystal clear as ice falling into a glass, rang out. Izzy looked up just in time to see the Father hit the bare floor, a perfect hole right between the eyes. Terrified, Izzy scrambled to his feet and began desperately looking for some way out, some route out the lights, his primal instincts kicking. They were going to kill him, he'd known it all along. He was just some genetic experiment that the scientists had used some bullshit excuse to cover up. And now it was over.

Panicked and with sweat beading his face, Izzy ran, the wings lifting him from the ground. He was just about to jump and glide over the circle when something locked around his throat, dragging him back to the ground. He landed heavily, howling with pain and frustration as he tried to look, tried to see what was restraining him. His hands clawed at his throat, finding a thick metal collar locked around his neck. If they were going to treat him like an animal, then he was going to act like one. Desperately, he beat the wings, trying to get up but something was attached to the back of his neck holding him down. Voices yelled around him, issuing order and commands in a language he didn't understand. Hands grabbed at his beating wings and thrashing arms, pulling them together and restraining them behind him. Izzy let out another pained howl, a howl that was quickly silenced as something was forced into his mouth. He choked around the gag and let out a little whimper, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Is this how you want to die Izzy? You want to die crying?

There were two clicks and Izzy found himself being hauled to his feet. With wide, desperate eyes, he looked over his shoulder. Three men, all dressed in the same uniform, gripped long poles. Long poles that were attached to his neck. One of them sneered at him and aimed a kick at Izzy's lower back, forcing him forward. Dropping his head to his chest, Izzy closed his eyes and allowed himself to be pushed towards an unknown fate.