Morgan and the Martyr

"How many of you want to explore the unknown?"

A few lazy hands peeked up among the sea of students.

"Alright then. I have an assignment for you all. I want you to go out, and document a person, place, or thing that you've always wanted to learn more about. Write a page on it for me - it's due on Monday." She was met with a chorus of groans. Shaking her head, Ms. Cruz waved a hand. "Class dismissed." With a scraping of desks, the students stampeded towards the door, knocking each other into the walls.

One girl stood out, pushed back and back to the end of the chaos, as people shoved her out of the way to get by. Bending down, she picked up the spilled contents of her bookbag, putting book after book after book into the bag. Slinging it up over her shoulder, she swept a tendril of raven hair from her eyes, and walked out of the classroom, pulling the door shut behind her.

Staying close to the wall, she made her way down the hallway, as the other students poured through the doors of the school, homebound. She waited until most of the other students had left, and then slipped through the doors. She walked across the crosswalk with her head lowered, towards the home that was not a truly a home.

As she trudged towards her house, she rolled the project over and over in her thoughts. She would certainly do it on the forest that had haunted her thoughts since she could remember; the forest that surrounded the suburb of Cameron Park; the forest that nobody, as far as she knew, had ventured into.

She rounded the corner, coming upon the street by which rows of perfect, identical houses were lined. Each had a white picket fence, a garden of red flowers, and two square windows that seemed to frame around a door, making a wicked smile of each house. Because every house looked exactly the same, she counted on her fingers to find her own; One, two, three, four... She opened the gate to the fourth house, walking up the winding way to the door. Pulling a key from her pocket, she unlocked the door and stepped inside.

"Frank, Wilma, I'm here," she called into the darkness. From the living room came a grunt in reply, and she could hear the squawkings of Wilma on the phone in the kitchen. She slid her bookbag from her shoulders, putting it on the table near the entryway, and walked into the living room to check on her 'father.'

He was sprawled on the couch, a pile of empty bottles strewn on the floor, half-awake and snoring loudly with each inhalation. His thinning brown hair was unbrushed and greasy, much like the rest of his body. His shirt was stained, and his belly stuck out under it like some obscene testament to his drunkenness.

"I'm going to go out and do a school project," she whispered to him, not daring to go too close because of the stench. "Tell Wilma, please, when she gets off the phone." Once again, he grunted at her and rolled over. She straightened.

Gathering a pencil and a notepad from her school things, she stepped out of the house, locking the door behind her. Leaning against it for a moment, she wrote at the top of the page, "Morgan Matthews, 09-14-1992".

Straightening, she tucked the pencil behind her ear and moved around the side of the house, stepping around the garden and scaling the fence with ease. Behind it lay a vast, expansive forest. The line of it was prominent, arching around the whole of Cameron Park. Strangely, the trees seemed darker than all of the others; a deeper green, with less sunlight shining through.









As she crossed the ten feet of grassy stretch towards the forest edge, she bit her lip and wondered if perhaps she should turn back - if the darkness that was wreathed through the trees was a sign. Shaking her head, she took a hesitant step forward and willed herself to have courage. She'd wondered about this forest all her life, she reasoned, and now was not the time to stand down. Taking a deep breath, she continued walking until she was standing in front of the first tree.



For a moment, she stared at the trunk of the enormous elm, and then pushed past it into a world of eternal darkness. The light inside the forest was incredibly dim because the canopy above blocked out most of the sunlight. The trees seemed to groan and sway when she walked by them, and with a trembling hand she noted this on her paper. For several long moments, she hesitated, looking back over her shoulder at the faint light that marked the safety of the suburbs; then she weighed the two, and decided that the dark forest was better than Frank and Wilma by a landslide. Steeling herself, she continued to walk forward. For what seemed like hours, Morgan trudged across the dead grasses with a knot of fear deep in her gut.







A whispering wind rustled the trees, and she jumped a bit at the sinister hissing noise it created. Spooked, she picked up the pace a bit, looking around her. Everything looked the same. All of the trees were identical, with the same thick trunks and sable leaves. Panicked now, she turned around and around, trying to get her bearings.

With a sharp inhalation, she realized that she was lost.

Gripped by fear, she started running, barreling through the trees. Slender fingers of wood scraped her face, and she let out a little cry, pressing her eyes shut as she pushed and swiped at the brambles.

Thrashing her way through, she emerged from the sea of dead trees, hesitantly opening her eyes.

A large, white building loomed before her, wreathed in vines and overgrown bushes. Lights flickered on and off inside the compound, and she bit her lip, taking a step back, only to feel resistance. The thing she'd backed into was cold and tall. She started to look over her shoulder, but a gloved hand clamped over her mouth, muffling her scream. She felt a sharp prickle of pain in the back of her neck, and numbness spread like cold water over her. She slumped against the man that had grabbed her, her lids heavy.

All was black.


Morgan awoke to the sound of growling, and the shouts of many men. She sat up quickly, and banged the top of her head on something metal. She gasped in pain and rubbed the top of her head, hunched down. Slowly, she looked around, tears springing to her eyes.

She was in a small, damp cage, about four feet long and three feet high. A padlock sealed the "door" of the cage, which was little more than thick bars, confining her to the small space. She pressed her face up against the bars, trying to see what was going on.

A strange creature was thrashing in the arms of three rubber-clad men. The men were trying to hold onto it while it flailed and snapped at the air. It had short, spiky black hair and glowing red eyes, and when it opened its mouth, Morgan glimpsed long, dripping fangs. She scurried back against her cage in fear.

The creature was being bested by its captors, and it let out a deafening hiss that rattled the bars of Morgan's cage. She heard a slam of metal, and the gasping of the three men as they caught their breath.

Hesitantly, she put her face to the bars again, looking to her right. There was another cage, holding the strange creature. Morgan let out a fearful squeak as she saw it in frightening detail.

It was a girl; but not really a girl... She looked to be about seventeen years of age. She wore a tattered black shirt and worn jeans that didn't fit her anymore. Her skin was ashen grey, and shone even in the darkness.

Not skin... scales. The girl had scales.

The girl's eyes were black crescents in pools of crimson, and as she reached up to wipe something from her mouth, Morgan saw that her fingers were tipped with claws. With alarm, she realized that this girl looked like a snake. Her eyes bulged, and she couldn't help but stare with her mouth open.

The snake-girl's head slowly turned, and she stared at Morgan, smiling a fanged smile. "Hello," she hissed.

Morgan tried to speak, but could only hiccup, "Y-y-y-ou're...!"

"A sssnake, yeah. Sssmart girl."

"But... h-how?"

"I'll asssk the quessstionsss for now, little girl. Who are you?"

"I'm Morgan M-Matthews." She gulped loudly, hugging herself.

"Well, Morgan Matthewsss, welcome to hell. Have you met your neighborsss?"

She blinked stupidly, and the snake-girl pointed a clawed finger to Morgan's left. Looking over, she gasped.

Three cages were next to her, lined up. In each was a creature that looked different than anything Morgan had ever seen.

Before she could speak, she heard thudding footsteps, and retreated to the back of her cage. Everything was quiet; nobody breathed.

A white-coated man emerged from a steel door on the far side of the room, striding over towards Morgan's cage. He was handsome, with slicked dark hair and small rectangular glasses. His smile was perfect and white. He bent down in front of Morgan's cage, smiling that artificial smile at her for a long moment.

"Hello, Ms. Matthews; or shall we call you number five? Yes, yes, that's your new name. Come." He pulled out a ring of keys and chose one, unlocking her cage. He grabbed her arm roughly, and she stared at him with fearful eyes as she was yanked from the cage. He stood up, dragging her to her wobbly feet, and started towards the steel door. Morgan dug her heels into the floor, but he continued walking as if he couldn't feel her resistance. She tried to wriggle from his grasp, to no avail, and he pulled open the heavy steel door, shoving her through it. As she stumbled back, she tripped over something and looked down.

It was a small case full of vials. Each small vile had a clear liquid in it, and was labelled with words that Morgan couldn't make out. White with fear, she whirled around, only to see a silver table covered with white plastic. It had leather straps on it, hanging off of the side, ready to be used.

She screamed.

The man grabbed hold of her arms, and she stood there uselessly, screaming until her throat ached. He pushed her forward onto the table and pinned her down on it. She flailed wildly, but it was no use; she felt a strap closing around her legs, wrapping them in a vicegrip to the cold plastic. She closed her eyes, whimpering, and felt a strap go over her forehead and both of her wrists.

Nearby, the man was humming merrily as he lifted vial after vial of the clear liquid. "Ram...? No, no, not like you at all... Bear? No, not like you either. Owl? Ooh, that could work. Yes, let's try owl." He took a small syringe and put it through the top of the vial, drawing the liquid from it. Morgan screamed again and struggled against her binds.

"Quit your noise," the man snapped, and went to her, holding the syringe. He stabbed the needle into her arm, and pain shot through her body immediately. She gasped and tears streamed down her cheeks. She closed her eyes, blinded by the light above her suddenly, and when she opened them, their color had gone from green to golden, unbenownst to her. Her pupils dilated and contracted rapidly. Her skull felt like it was about to split open, and both of her arms went numb. She writhed on the table while the man watched, a satisfied smile on his face.

The bones in her shoulders were lengthening, pushing against her skin, and she screamed shrilly, in agony. Her bones pierced her skin and continued to grow, forming a large upside-down V that branched out into spiked of bone. Blood pooled about her as Morgan sobbed, aching everywhere. Sinew formed about the bones, knitting together like warped magic, and then tiny black feathers emerged from it, completing the extra appendages. The transformation, however, was not over.

Her hands curled into fists, and she was shocked to feel her palms bleeding. Opening her hands, she saw that her fingernails had grown to sharp points - talons.

Her hair was still black, but had become thinner and softer, brushing the sides of her neck in feathery curls. She had a widow's peak now, as well.

She lay there, crying and crying, while the man scrutinized her. "Not bad," he said with amusement. "Not bad at all. We should get you back to your cage then, eh, number five?" He reached over and unstrapped her, taking her arm and yanking her up off of the table. She didn't resist, and hung her head, hiccuping. He pulled her from the room, back into the hall in which the cages were lined.

She looked up, her face streaked with tears. Four faces were pressed to the front of the four cages, staring at her silently. She recognized the snake-girl, and had a new appreciation for what she had gone through. The doctor dragged Morgan over to her cage and flung her inside, locking it behind her. He sneered at her and strode out of the hall.

All was silent for a few moments, and then a soft male voice crooned, "It's alright. It's alright; don't cry." She wiped her eyes and looked over at the cage to the far left. An extraordinarily handsome face smiled back at her. He had a silky ocean of raven hair and a kind smile. His skin was very pale, and his eyes were golden, like hers.

She took a few deep breaths and said, "What is this place?"

"C.H.A.G.S.!," came a high, frenzied reply, followed by a giggle. Morgan blinked and searched for the speaker.

He was sitting two cages down. His eyes were wild, always moving, and he was perpetually grinning. His hands quivered on the bars. He had messy black hair, and two brown canine ears twitched madly atop his head.

"What's C.H.A.G.S.?"

"Corporation for Human and Animal Gene Splicing," came a gruff voice from the cage just to her left. A young boy sat inside. His hair was a mop of brown, covering his eyes, and when he spoke she saw that his teeth were long and jagged. An armored green tail was curled about him as he sat, and his hands were tipped with claws.

"Oh," she whispered, and sat back in her cage. "I'm... I'm Morgan..."

"You're number five now," came the hissing reply from the snake-girl. "But I'm Deirdre, number two."

"And I'm Conrad... heeheehee! I'm a jackal. Number three!" It was the crazy-eyed boy.

"Xavier," grunted the crocadillian boy next to her. "Number four."

"My name's Martyr, and I'm number one. A swan," said the handsome boy from the end of the room. His voice was soft, perfect.

"I.. I think I'm an owl," Morgan said mournfully. "How are we going to get out of this place?"

"We don't."



"What?" asked Morgan, her eyes wide.

"There's no way out," Xavier repeated quietly. "There are too many scientists, and the cages are fullproof."

"But we have to find a way! We can't stay here for the rest of our lives." Her voice was high and panicked.

"Morgan's right," chimed Martyr softly. "We can try."

"I'm sssick of thisss pit," Dierdre said from the depths of her cage. Conrad didn't reply; he simply cackled, and Morgan could hear the thumping of a tail on the floor of the jackal's cage. Xavier growled softly. "I don't like it... but you're the boss, Martyr. Let's do it."

Morgan began testing the cage. She wrapped her fingers around the bars and pulled, finding with shock that she had inhuman strength. They bent inward slightly, but not enough to make much of a difference. They weren't spaced far enough apart for her slide more than her arm through.

She sat back for a moment, thinking.

A thought sparked in her mind, and she pressed up against the bars, putting her right arm through them. She groped around for a moment for what she was searching for, and let out a triumphant "Aha!" She brandished a clawed finger and carefully put it into the keyhole of the lock, shifting it left and right until she felt a metallic click as the bolt slid from its clasp.

She brought her arm back in, and pushed on the door slightly. It swung open, and she tumbled from the cage. "Morgan, you did it!" Martyr gasped.

"Frank, my foster father, has locked me out of the house more than once," she said sheepishly. "I used to have to pick the locks with bobbie pins."

She went around then, unlocking each of the cages in a similar fashion. Morgan watched as Martyr emerged from the cage into the stark light of the hall. She stared at him, mesmerized by the grace in which he unfolded large alabaster wings and stretched, each feather quivering for a moment before relaxing in perfect symmetry.

Morgan didn't realize her mouth was hanging open until Dierdre stepped in front of her and cuffed her in the chin, knocking her from her stupor. Muttering, Morgan rubbed her jaw, and Dierdre sauntered towards the door, snickering. Morgan turned around, suddenly self-conscious, and smoothed down her frizzy black hair, before following the others towards the steel door.

Xavier stood back, rolling his shoulders, and then charged forward, hitting the door with a clang. It collapsed inward, broken, and the boy grinned a jagged smile.

"You could've opened it, you know," Dierdre hissed, arching a brow. Xavier shrugged and lead the way in, his armored tail swinging noisily behind him. Morgan began to follow them, but turned around, noticing that Martyr was standing a way's back, holding something. Morgan jogged over to him, and called, "Martyr?"

As she neared him, she saw that he was holding a mutilated teddybear. Its eyes were simple buttons, and its fur was old and faded, but he clutched it to him like a long lost friend. "They took this from me when they brought me here, 15 years ago..."

Morgan rested a hand lightly on his shoulder and gently tugged him towards the door. "It's over now. We're leaving. You need to come with us." He nodded slowly and fell into stride beside her, stepping over the crumpled door.





A roar reverberated through the walls, vibrating the floor ahead, and Morgan began to run towards it. She felt the light touch of Martyr's hand, and he said, "It will be faster if we fly. I think they're in combat, Morgan. Here - take my hand." She felt queasy for a moment at the thought of flight, and then nodded and grasped his hand. In unison, they spread their wings, and pushed off from the tile floor. Morgan closed her eyes, expecting to feel the cold floor beneath her; but it never came. Slowly, she opened her eyes, and gasped.

She was gliding alongside Martyr, their wings crossed in a sort of yin and yang; white and black streaks, fluttering every-so-often in the stuffy air of the hallway. She gripped his hand tightly, for she thought that if she let go, she would fall to the floor, as if he was keeping her aloft.

They rounded the corner, and Martyr dug his heels into the ground, bringing them both to a stop. Morgan stumbled a moment, then regained her balance, and blushed, letting his hand go. She lifted her head and gasped at the events unfolding in front of her.


Xavier was locked in battle, as was Dierdre. Swarms of hideous, monkey-like creatures were pouncing on them. The ugly beasts walked on four legs, and were about three feet tall, with dark skin marred by numerous scars and blisters. Their eyes were wild and rheumy, and they looked surprisingly like humans; they lacked fur, aside from the few strands of hair that waved atop their heads. They bared fanged teeth, resembling those of small primate's, and began grappling with Xavier and Dierdre. Conrad was huddled in the corner, batting at a single beast. It made faces at him, and he made faces back.

Martyr leapt into the fray, but Morgan stayed back, paralyzed with the realization that these things were experiments gone wrong. They were alive, but not truly alive; living with a soul not their own. The scars must have been where the doctors had operated on them, taking the beauty that they had while alive. Yet, they were attacking the others, and Morgan had to protect them. She had to...

She charged at one of the creatures, and lifted it by the throat, crushing its windpipe with a whispered regret. It slid from her fingers, broken, and she grabbed two others, as they kept flooding from the end of the hall.

Conrad was being overwhelmed. The beast had decided that he wasn't fun anymore, and had called over its friends. They were pinning him to the floor and biting his arms. Conrad let out a strangled yelp, and thrashed, to no avail. They clung to him, and more and more rushed over him. He was on the floor now, writhing.

Morgan was flailing, trying to get to him. A creature had hold of her wing, and it was setting her off-balance, as more of the monkey-beasts latched onto her legs.

Conrad disappeared under a squirming, cackling mass, his cries muffled and then finally stopping completely.

Xavier swung his tail, and a dozen of the beasts went flying, smacking against the wall. He did this again, wiping out a good section of the throng. Martyr was slashing at them, screeching, as was Morgan, and Dierdre was sinking her fangs into one at a time.

After several long, heavy minutes of fighting, the last of the beasts fell onto the pile of corpses. The four of them collapsed, trying to catch their breaths, and choking on the overwhelming stench of blood.

"Conrad's gone," Morgan whispered, and the others nodded gravely.

"It'sss for the bessst. He wasss never the sssame after Dr. Kyron worked hisss magic."

"Dr. Kyron?"

"He isss the doctor that sssupervises thisss place. He did thisss to all of usss. He gave you thossse wings and thossse talons."

Morgan looked down at her hands, stained with crimson, and her breath caught in her throat. Martyr gathered her into his arms, offering crooning comfort.

"Come on... let's keep moving," she said softly, pulling from his embrace and stepping over the carnage. "The doctor knows of our escape, then... he sent those things after us..."

The others nodded, frowning, and followed her.



They emerged into a large, almost empty room, with the same steel walls and door at the end. In the center of the room stood Dr. Kyron, grinning maliciously and clasping his hands behind him.

"I see you've killed all of my specimens... oh, and where is Number Three?" He made a tsk-tsk sound with his tongue and shook his head. "That stupid animal needed to be put down anyway."

Dierdre began to hiss steadily, her fingers curling into fists and her eyes narrowing.

"Pity that you will not get out of here alive," Dr. Kyron said with a smile. He reached into the folds of his white coat and retrieved a black baton with small metal spikes protruding from the sides. Electricity danced up and down the weapon. He took a step towards them, and Dierdre sprung.

It was perfectly aligned; she looked like some sort of acrobat, leaping towards the doctor with fury in her eyes and her fangs dripping venom. She would have landed square on top of his chest had he not blocked her with the baton.

He raked it down her chest, propelling her backwards, and she fell to his feet, her body in spasm as sparks crackled down her body. Still jerking about, she grunted and reached up, snatching the baton with her hand. More electricity coursed through her fingers, causing them to tense around the baton. It shattered in her grip, falling to the floor. Dr. Kyron watched with faint amusement as Dierdre bled and seized on the floor.

"No!" Morgan cried, and started to run forward, but something took hold of the back of her arm, jerking her back.

It was Martyr.

"No," he whispered in her ear, pulling her back. "We can't help her. If we touch her, the electricity will transfer to us."

Morgan whirled back around, staring at Dierdre helplessly. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks. The snake-girl was still now, her eyes wide open and fixed on the doctor's. "You're the monssster," she rasped, and then fell silent, her fists slowly unclenching.

"You... you... ARRGH!" Xavier was rushing forward now, stomping towards the Doctor, who stood stock still, waiting for him.

As Xavier's armored shoulder was inches from the Doctor's face, Kyron pulled something else from his jacket; an I.D. bracelet, one of those from a hospital. Xavier stopped in his tracks and gaped at it, a low growl rumbling in his throat. "Where is she?"

"Oh, Number Four, now why would I tell you that if you're going to kill me? Such a dangerous beast, you are."

"TELL ME WHERE MY SISTER IS!"

"Oh, do shut up. If you don't go back to your cage now, I'll termina-... ECH!" Xavier had the doctor by the throat, lifting him from the ground. Dr. Kyron thrashed wildly, his face turning purple.

"Tell me where she is! Tell me now!"

"P-put me down... you... you beast!" Xavier loosened his grip some, and the doctor fell onto his rump on the tile floor. He straightened, brushing debris from his labcoat and taking time to fix his tie. Xavier's snarling grew in volume. When Kyron was quite ready, he sneered and said, "Don't you remember, Number Four? You killed her in one of your rages. Don't you remember?" Xavier froze, mouth open, and Kyron brandished a small blade, sliding it into the soft flesh of the crocadillian boy's belly. He shuddered and fell to the floor beside Dierdre.

Morgan was weeping now, and Martyr took her into his arms, close to tears himself. Dr. Kyron turned to them with a smile.

"How do you think you will survive in the real world, hmm? You will be labelled as freaks, as oddities, put into the richest of circuses and displayed in bright lights for the children to gawk at. Yes, yes, wouldn't it be foolish to leave this place, when the real civilization is right in here?"

Martyr gently let Morgan out of his embrace, and she wiped her eyes and stood tall beside him. They both spread their wings, crossing eachother, and when Martyr spoke, his voice boomed through the room, bouncing off of the steel walls.

"You're a criminal; a beast worse than all of the nightmares of those children in that city. We're not leaving for us... we're leaving to protect the innocent from you." And they rose from the ground, hand in hand, and flew over the shocked Dr. Kyron's head. They bowled into the steel door, knocking it over, and out into the tranquil night air of the forest. They rose and rose, until the trees were far below them, and the screech of the alarm inside the lab couldn't be heard anymore.








They flew together for perhaps an hour in silence. Then, as the suburb of Cameron Park appeared over the sea of trees, Morgan gave a delighted cheer and swooped down. Once again, Martyr grabbed her shirt, pulling her back up into the safety of the clouds.

"What if they see you, Morgan? They'll shoot you... before we go home, we have to land somewhere safe and try to appear normal so that they don't take us away. We have to go to the police." She nodded silently, unsure if she wanted to face Frank and Wilma, especially in the current state. She hovered in the air next to him, beating her wings. Martyr placed a hand on her shoulder, and smiled a reassuring smile. She returned it weakly and tilted her wings downwards. She dived through the cover of the trees, and touched the ground lightly, Martyr landing silently behind her.

She folded her wings tightly against her back, and pushed her hair behind her shoulders so that it covered most of her wings. Martyr was less fortunate, and could only walk in front of Morgan so that his wings weren't visible.

They emerged from the line of trees timidly, and Morgan breathed a sigh of relief.

They made their way towards the police station, the memory of their companions' deaths weighing heavily on their minds.







.:-EPILOGUE-:.

Dr. Kyron pressed up against the bars of his cell, laughing; laughing for the irony of it all. He, Robert Kyron, caged like an animal, just like his experiments! He had created the perfect beings, the mutants and hybrids; he had fathered them, conceiving them with his brilliance and his insanity. In truth, he loved them all.

Especially Number One.

Martyr was perfect in every way. Why wouldn't he be? He was a swan, in every aspect. From the way his eyes were shaped, to the symmetry of each wing, to the way his hair framed his face like a young boy posing for a portrait.

Ah, Number One, society will kill you if you don't kill yourself, thought Kyron, his laughter ringing throughout the prison.
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'I decided to go into the forest to write my essay. You know, the forest; the one that's surrounded Cameron Park for decades. The one that nobody's named or documented. Yes, yes. I went in, and I am not Morgan anymore; no, I'm Number Five. I am an owl. Three of my friends died to preserve Morgan, but Morgan is dead. I explored the unknown, Ms. Cruz, and then I became the unknown. Wake yourself up; wake everyone else up. The whole world is asleep, hibernating, waiting for its own doom. Wake it up before it dies a slow death, Ms. Cruz, and maybe we have a chance. Perhaps this generation can grow... perhaps it can live; but unless we open our eyes, and see everything as it truly is, we all are a part of the unknown. Morgan was a martyr, Ms. Cruz, and she died in that steel room to show the world that it is blind. Morgan was a martyr.'

( Author's note: Many thanks to daybreak for helping me feel confident and pointing out some of the things I needed to edit in my story. You really made my day! =D )