Lab-Rat

Prologue

January 7th, 2023

Perry shivered against the stone wall of the sewer. The cold chill of New York air hit him constantly, sifting through his matted fur and finding his bones. Muffled sounds of a grand city above echoed through the pipe system. All of these things reminded him that he was still here, still breathing, and still feeling things he'd never thought he'd feel.

His now stained and tattered lab coat didn't shield him from the winter biting and eating him alive. A short sleeved shirt lay underneath, nothing more. He pressed his tired and cramped legs against his chest in a desperate attempt to keep himself calm. His breathing was short and quick, a small plume of condensation following. His whole body ached, and one could simply stop this by going inside a warm building. Perry felt worse just at the thought of being near a hot fire. The longing of something to melt the cold burn he endured was the only fathomable idea still intact. The rest of those notions lay buried in the back of his head in an effort to simply forget. But they still seemed to jab at him regardless.

And the sick part of that was, most of these feelings weren't about the temperature.

Perry still felt as if he were running. He knew they were hunting him down like a pack of hounds. They wouldn't stop until he was in their jaws, teeth piercing his pathetic skin and tearing it about. They simply wouldn't.

Warm rivulets fell down his cheek, in which he cherished before they ran cold.

As much as he had wanted to, he could not take a break to weep. Nothing would be fixed if he didn't do something about this. He stood on shaky feet, contemplating his next move.

He slid his shoes against the concrete floor, echoes following each step. Every so often, he stopped to make sure that those sounds were his own. He pushed his fears to the side as much as he could, and put his brain to work.

...

It would be much easier if he had something to organize his plans with.

...

His stomach growled.

He grumbled and slammed his palm against his head. Right. First order of business. Find something to eat. He couldn't think a coherent thought on an empty stomach, obviously.

Searching the complex tunnel system had proven to be a difficult task. He looked for something, anything new, but it was just a tunnel. Brick walls flanked his side, which ensured that nothing could attack him from the left or right. The only positive thing about his situation.

Thing is, he couldn't remember where he came in from. He had scrambled inside the sewer drain in a panic. Coolest thing about his new form; he was swift. Quicker than his pursuers. But his surroundings had become unreal, nowhere was safe or promised shelter.

His only option had been the most abhorrent place in New York. Luckily, the alligator myth had been debunked long ago, or he would've been toast.

The walls opened up into a larger section, in which the walkway he traveled on was cut off by another sewage pipe. He wondered if it'd be safe enough to jump across to where the path continued.

He couldn't think of any way to get out of this. All that clouded his mind was the impending doom that was inevitably closing in on him. Any step could be his last. Any mistakes could lead to another horrid path to unravel...

He didn't believe this could get any worse, but then again, that could just be some form of false hope.

He continued to travel aimlessly, hoping something, anything would trigger an idea to pop up. Traveling somewhere this smelly might cover his scent long enough to escape the city. Probably. He hoped so. He simply had to cling onto that hope.