Warriors of Poseidon 05 - Atlantis Redeemed

you.” Devon made a mental note to remember the face of this vampire with such excellent strategic thinking skills. It would be very useful for later.
    Another of Litton’s scientists, a human, wandered in from the doorway that led back to the holding area. The man was covered in blood and seemed to be in a profound state of shock, judging by the blank stare and stumbling gait. His name tag was dangling from his ripped lab Atlantis Redeemed – Warriors of Poseidon 05
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    coat, so Devon had to tilt his head to read it.
    “Dr. Orson, what happened here?”
    It took Orson a while to focus, but he finally managed to train his gaze somewhere near Devon’s shoulder. The man’s eyes were rolling around in their sockets, though, and the effect was quite unpleasant.
    Devon steeled himself to objectivity; Orson was a man who had chosen to experiment on his own kind. He was one of the worst kind of sheep and deserved no pity.
    “The shifters,” Orson mumbled. “The shifters can’t all take it. There were two of them at one time, you know, we had the new chair, and they both broke free and attacked.”
    Devon turned to Litton, who was still wringing his hands in a corner, staring at the wreckage of his pride and joy. “What is he babbling about? What new chair?”
    “What? Oh, the chair,” Litton said, waving a hand at it. Unfortunately, it was as badly damaged as the primary chair. “We just connected the second chair yesterday so we could run two test subjects through at once. Too many of the shifters’ brains rejected the treatment. Something about their brain patterns is so different from human brain patterns that we couldn’t quite overcome it.”
    “What happened when you couldn’t overcome it?” Devon demanded, pretty sure he already knew the answer, but wanting to hear it confirmed.
    “This happened,” Litton shouted, waving his arms at the destruction. “They go nuts, become wildly aggressive and violent, and we have to put them down.”
    “Put them down?” Devon repeated. “You have to put them down?”
    Even Litton, the king of self-absorption, must have noticed the deadly menace in Devon’s voice, because his head snapped up, and after one look at Devon’s face, the scientist backed rapidly around to the other side of the destroyed chair.
    “What else could we do? They were horribly dangerous. Not just to us, but to each other and to themselves. They even cannibalize each other.” Litton shuddered, his lip curling back from his crooked teeth. “Sometimes it happens here, but sometimes, like this week, they seem fine and under control, and we release them to perform some task and they blow up. Sort of a delayed reaction to the mind control.”
    “So much blood. All over the place, blood and blood and blood,” Orson added, still stumbling around. “So much blood. Going to take a shower now.”
    Devon and Litton watched him in silence as he wandered back out of the lab, smacking his head on the doorway as he walked through it.
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    “You’d better get him some medical treatment,” Devon ordered one of the guards.
    The man nodded and rushed off after Orson, and Devon returned his attention to Litton.
    “So, this brilliant success,” Devon said, making perfectly sure that Litton heard the harsh sarcasm in his voice, “this made you think it was a good idea to experiment on two shifters at once?”
    Litton made those odd scrunching motions with his mouth again, and Devon wanted to weep that he’d been reduced to working with such a blind, pathetic fool. He wondered, yet again, how far he was willing to take this path. Did the end truly justify the means, or was that merely a convenient excuse for morally ambiguous madmen?
    “We had plenty of guards,” Litton finally said weakly. “I don’t understand—”
    “I know you don’t understand, you egomaniacal idiot,” Devon shouted, cutting the damn fool off. “You don’t understand anything about shifter packs or prides or any other units of family, but you dare to experiment on them?”
    Litton puffed, drawing himself up to his full height, but he still had to look up to meet Devon’s gaze. “I beg your pardon, but I happen to be the neuroscientist here, and I—”
    “Know nothing. You know nothing,” Devon said quietly, realizing shouting wasn’t accomplishing anything, however much better it might make him feel. “If two shifters are from the same