"An enraged man is truly dangerous. He has the strength, the motivation, and the resilience to come and destroy the source of his anger. This physical augmentation comes with a cost: one under this state disables most, if not all, of his logical facets. A setback established by nature to balance one's cognitive and affective aspects...

"The aim of this series of experiments is to seek a means to fill the cognitive void when one enters into a state of uncontrolled anger. We are to find out if the final results would involve one who is well-aware of himself while keeping the advantages of a stimulated berserk state..."

-Goehler, R. (1879). Journal of Experimentations (Vol. 149, pp. 540-547). Gleinheim: Imperial Scientific Bureau

A small gathering of white coats lined up many syringes on an empty table beside a console bank. Three to four dozen units, each housed in leather belts; the bright red glow of the liquid they contained refracted lamplights into broken pinkish shades. A puff of thin steam melted into the air as a steel door retreated and revealed another man in a white coat escorted by a pair of riflemen. He left the gunners to stand on the opposite sides of the door as he walked towards his aides. A door opposite the gathering exhaled and let in another group of armed men; they did not have any other scientist with them. Silhouettes of heads were exposed to the light; most kept grinning faces, some of them planted their eyes on the floor while others just walked as the soldier in front tugged them to do so.

Long lines of chains dangled and jangled as those who carried them trudged into a room with eighteen tables arranged into columns of three. Manacles and fetters were attached to each table; above the diagonally-arranged devices were headpieces that resembled knobbed lampshades. They were connected to circuitry boxes at the back of the beds, which in turn were linked to small fluid-filled glass spheres that contained perpetually revolving crystal rods.

The queue of men sweltered beneath large yellow-orange lamps; their masked watchers held on to spear-like implements that had crystal rods sandwiched between the pointing tips of the weapon. Some of their weapons had small streaks of electricity running between the ends. Blood, grease, and soot-stained their clothes; many of the faces were smeared with the filth of last night's violence. The prisoners stared at Trevalyn who had two soldiers guarding his left and right; he noticed that some of them stared into the galvanized detail of his arm exposed by the lamps.

He scanned at them; reflections of beaten and exhausted men were distorted on the surface of his dark gray irises. His two guards stepped aside when he moved forward to talk to the captives.

"You are all brought here to become a part of us, whether it is for or against your will. This is your last chance." Trevalyn matched his sight with each of the prisoners. "If you wish to spare yourself from losing your sense of freedom and your own mind, pledge your services to us here and now."

"What are you going to do to us if we don't, old man?" A ponytailed prisoner sneered while asking. "Turn us into one of your monsters?"

Nobody shared his laughter; the other prisoners offered empty stares at him while the rest of the guards had their spears on the ready. Trevalyn let out a short sigh upon hearing this doomed man's attempt to make fun of what was to happen.

"An interesting point from a defeated one." Trevalyn walked and stopped in front of the captive. "I am simply giving you the option of whether or not you want to keep your mind with your body. Let us see how your bravado will help you overcome what will happen next."

The crime lord walked away from the chained ones, signaling his guards to encircle them. His feet did not lead too far from the group as he looked at them and said:

"Those who change their minds express your interest to join us now, unless if you would want to find out why we brought you to this room."

Neither the prisoners nor the jailors spoke or breathed; the whirr of fan blades along with the occasional crackling of the guards' charged weapons spoke inside the place. Some of the members of the fallen Dragon's Claw stared at the beds; their eyes were fixed on the open restraints and the spiked headpieces attached to them. Three of the men snapped out of the silence; sweat and tears mixed with their anxiety before they stepped forward saying:

"I'll join you! I'll do whatever you want... just let me live."

"Spare me please!"

"Get these chains off me! I want to live."

A smile formed on Trevalyn's face; it seemed that his word was taken seriously.

"A wise choice." A hand was raised and seen by two of the guards from each end of the chain. They promptly drew sets of keys from their pockets and removed their manacles. Those men did not, or more of, could not look at their former colleagues they were leaving behind.

"You will pay for this, traitors! Pray that I perish now because I will hunt you all down once I break free of this."

The ponytailed prisoner rocked the line and lunged at the released trio. A spear guard thrust his weapon onto his side, unleashing a current that made the furious captive and everyone else still attached to the chains scream. One by one the men kneeled at the sudden flow of energy their bodies were brought to bear; those who could not take much of the shock fell flat to the ground.

"We are sorry Sin... we have to live." One of the men looked at his old comrades one last time before he was shoved out of the chamber by the guards behind him.

"Ample time has been provided and yet you refused to use it. You have chosen your fates." Trevalyn looked at his guards and the other scientists waiting at the center of the room. "Let us commence, ladies and gentlemen."

Work has begun for the men and women in white coats. Each machine inside the chamber was operated by one or two of the scientists who also prepared the racks to contain the prisoners. Guards unfettered the men one by one, dragging them to the repulsive beds. Some of them attempted to fight Trevalyn's aides, which prompted them to throw a man to the floor, weaken him with powerful currents from their spears, and resume pulling the half-dizzy prisoner to a respective rack.

Steel clamps secured the wrists and legs of the captives; those who felt the heavy air around them struggled in attempts to dislodge the restraints. Large metal half-rings hugged the waists of the men and raised the tension they felt as the detainees looked at the masked guards and poker-faced scientists. They watched the white coats approach them and screw the headpieces onto the captives; their eyes were fixed above them as they were aligning certain sections of the device with their temples. Other devices were linked to their bodies; soft gauze pads with wires were attached to their wrists, necks, and chests. They watched screens come to life and run jagged green, yellow and red lines from right to left. The table containing the red liquid was being cleared of the vials slowly; each of them was inserted into sockets found on the racks' headpieces. All components of the setup were completed and many of the men and women tended to the central machinery; some of Trevalyn's aides remained to stand guard on each row.

"Everything is ready, Doctor." A familiar aide went near the crime lord wearing a satisfied face.

"Excellent Friedrich. Let us start with..." The Gray Fox stared at the restrained prisoners and found two of the lightest-built men among them. "Racks Four and Seven. Given their body mass, have their initial dosage by thirty-five percent."

One woman at the center of the chamber toggled the controls and observed the red liquid of the containers emptied into the head-mounted instruments. Grimacing faces and gritting teeth were seen on the two prisoners; outlines of their skulls were more prominent as their faces were pulled back by an unseen force. A deep redness seeped out of their foreheads and flowed all throughout until their heads shared the color of their gums. Bulging veins appeared and ran purplish webs on their faces. Those strapped to the other racks watched in abject terror of what awaited them; some tried to shake off the restraints but the metals were too much for their strength to break free from.

"Racks Four and Seven's heart rates are rising." Friedrich's voice was lost in the piercing cries of the subjects. "220/160 and counting..."

Seconds passed and the prisoners' screams became guttural snarls. They were shaking on the racks; arms and legs flailed when the purple veins crawled beyond their heads.

"This is not good, Doctor." Friedrich stood by with a syringe filled with a clear liquid in hand. "Shall we administer tranquilizers?"

"It is too late for that," Trevalyn observed the man on Rack Seven slammed his arms on the bed; his groaning ended and the device beside his rack made a long beep. All three colored lines ran straight. "Release serum tubes on racks six, eleven, and fourteen. Give them twenty-five percent each. I wouldn't want to lose more variables."

The consoles were toggled; the bound men's eyes followed the damned serum trailing away from the containers. A thin rush belted inside their heads; the same distorted faces were seen on them as the red patch started its downward journey. Rack Eleven tried to fight the sensation off by trying to free him of the crown which did not change his state. Their bodies turned red; all of their nerves sending messages of pain at once as if they were being burned alive – only without the flames.

There was almost no change in the hostile reaction of the serum entering the other larger-built men. Chattering of teeth, followed by the shaking of the jaws, was the usual reaction to the red patch that slowly asserted its presence on the heads of the subjects. A moving rash was seen coursing from the sides of the men's faces down to their throats, which then widens its coverage once it was established on the chest.

"Another twenty-five percent on the variables." Trevalyn cupped his cheek, making his voice sound drier.

"Isn't it too dangerous to go with that Doctor?" Friedrich approached the veteran scientist with his eyes under a creased forehead.

"We are to find that out Friedrich." He addressed the assistant in a half-whisper; his eyes were a pair of spears that skewered Friedrich agape. He turned around to the device controllers and said aloud, "Proceed!"

Everything was the same, if not worse: heads hammered up and bodies shivered as more of the concoction circulated inside of them. Blood trickled out of the manacles and the iron implements that held the subjects by the waist chattered with each passing second.

"Doctor, we are losing Rack Six and Fourteen." Friedrich's voice broke Trevalyn from his thoughts; the rapid beeping of the instrument beside them confirmed the aide's alarm.

"They will soon be lost. Keep your eye on Rack Eleven." Trevalyn took his sight away from the groaning man placed on Rack Fourteen.

"Of course, Doctor." Friedrich set the tranquilizer-filled syringe aside and went for the second row of subjects.

The cries were too much, even for the scientists who paid attention to their consoles. All of them looked at their leader who passed by the languid dying and the corpses of those who did not survive the serum's effects. Trevalyn approach Rack Twelve, where the man named Sin was bound to.

"Do you feel fear now?" Trevalyn whispered.

"You monster," the prisoner told him; he spat at the crime lord's face in one final act of defiance.

"Your stubbornness is admirable. Now, let us measure its extent." Trevalyn wiped the sputum off his face; a metal arm was raised before he said, "Rack Twelve! Start with half the dosage."

The crown on Sin's head let out a weak puff as the serum was introduced to his system. He grinned at the burning effect the chemical had on his brain, baring his teeth at the one who organized all of this. Four of his men were dead in this experiment they were forced into. Death delivered by this rack and these men in white coats was not something he envisioned himself to be in.

He had to stay alive. Sin must have his vengeance on this man and everyone under his aegis. Whatever this chemical was proved itself to be too strong; the prisoner let out one cry of pain before it was subdued into weak growling.

Rack Twelve was violently shaking; the strain caused by the serum was being hindered. Trevalyn saw the man's resolve and was intrigued by it. His gunmetal hand cupped his chin and then looked away from the struggling captive.

"Release the other half on Rack Twelve."

Another whiff came out of the crown; none of the red liquid remained in the vials moments later. The saltiness of sweat and the tang of blood mingled with the chamber's atmosphere. It had not gone to the extent of it becoming a stench that irritated the scientists' noses still, but the smell reached the senses of those monitoring the racks. Six men on the monitors and himself was a good enough ratio for him to track all results. Something came to his mind while he thought of the other failures:

"Have the remaining racks given trickle amounts of the serum, put in on five percent every thirty seconds."

Puffs were heard from all subjects at random intervals, so did the screaming, snapping, and groaning that came after them. It was a mix of reactions that even those at the consoles did not dare look at; even some of the guards took a step back from the cacophony of torment that was unleashed inside the chamber. The banging of limbs, the screams of inflamed throats, and the gurgling of blood rushing out of some of their mouths elicited the shaking of heads from those at the machines; some of the women approached their nearest colleague and buried their faces while holding onto each other.

No bloody spit, piercing cry, or tormented face stopped the lead doctor from scanning each row. He wiped off droplets of scarlet that splattered on his face as he approached the monitor of Rack Two. This large man was showing more resistance to the wear and tear of the serum than most of the other prisoners. He would conclude from this sample that body mass would play a key factor in properly harboring the substance. Trevalyn went past the half-dangling corpses of Racks Eight, Nine, and Ten.

He had almost completed his rounds on the fifteen samples when all that remained were the long and short sounds of the attached monitors. Only nine of the racks had their devices beep slowly; they were all that was left of the setup. Drops of deep red stained the floors; dangling heads with mouths left agape released the scent of hot gas and irony blood. The man of Rack Twelve had blank eyes on the floor; half-conscious, but still alive.

"Prepare the circlets," Trevalyn instructed the rest of his aides who stayed on the consoles. "We have lost more than half the sample size, but the remainders seem promising."

Half a dozen white coats with two guards watching over them drew out thin black headpieces and worked on the racks whose monitors displayed jagged lines. The racks' crowns were unscrewed from their heads, after which the prisoners' heads were cleaned of the thin cuts the devices left on their skin. These new headpieces were secured without any resistance from the surviving captives. An arc of small red dots glowed on the circlets' surface.

"All subjects are ready Doctor." Friedrich's voice was worn out; his energy after the show of pure agony has been sapped away significantly.

"Release the restraints."

Steely clicks and clangs echoed throughout the room; most of the released subjects dropped to the floor with soft thuds; many of them were nothing more than piles of warm meat. Those with the circlets spanned their hands and knees on the ground; the bulging veins caused by the invasive serum were shrinking back to their bodies. Trevalyn picked up a microphone-like device from one of the tables and placed it close to his lips whispering:

"Rise, and come to me."

The nine collected their weights and stood on shaky legs. They started out in sloshing steps until their balance was restored when they were halfway approaching Trevalyn. Chattering jaws and moans were heard clearer by the men and women controlling the chamber's machinery. They stood back, letting their leader examine the ruddy men.

"Kneel."

Their knees were pulled to the ground; Trevalyn looked at their eyeballs that had small red webs layered over them. He smiled at his new creations; the entire procedure was a success.

"Everything turned out as calculated, ladies and gentlemen." The lead scientist set aside the tiny machine at the table behind him. "Indeed, this has been a long day for all of us. You may return to your quarters."

Trevalyn stared at the failures; the redness of their bodies was paling away. One of the subjects showed to have a little life left in it (the monitor may have erred in its readings). Nearly dead, but it managed to put a stare of fear and grief at the scientist. This man would have been of no use to Trevalyn, given that his state was drawing him closer to death.

"Doctor?" Friedrich drew near his superior and watched him free the man from the rack's restraints.

Trevalyn twisted something on his false arm. A dark silver tube appeared from a circular opening revealed from the end of his wrist. He pulled a bolt from the metallic appendage's side using his other hand and aimed the protrusion at the dying subject.

A loud pop echoed inside the chamber, followed by numerous gasps from personnel who did not leave the premises yet. Friedrich stood still, eyes rounded at the sight of the subject that dropped to the ground. There was a thud, followed by a puddle of deep red that flowed out of the body. Empty eyes stared back at the apprentice, which caused Friedrich to hold his stomach and close his gaping mouth. He ran out of the chamber shortly.

"There's no reason to prolong his pain." Trevalyn's gun disappeared into his mechanical arm. He stared at the guards and the other shocked attendants to say, "Dispose of the failures. I want this room clean before sundown."

Chamber guards rushed in to pick up the corpses while the lead scientist walked out of the place. New problems were uncovered during the procedure, and he should be working on a means to rectify them once a new batch of subjects were gathered.