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Devon strode into the room and scowled at the instruments organized in perfect order for him. "Put those away," he barked. "We are doing something else today." Vincent rushed to undo what he had just done.

Devon smacked the small cooler he carried onto top of the countertop then flared his eyes and stilled. He needed to be more careful.

Ian tracked Devon. His tentative joy over Vincent's offer of help dashed. The relief that burst through him when Devon ordered the instruments put away chilled. He may have gotten out of the experiments that Devon had gleefully scheduled, but that didn't mean anything. Devon was angry, and an angry Devon was a dangerous one.

With pinched lips, Devon walked closer and leaned over Ian. "I had such plans today, such plans. But my desires were pushed aside. The higher-ups decided they have something more important to do with you. Didn't even consult with me, of course, after all my decades of assistance. Service." He spat the word. "But don't worry, if you live through today, we'll begin my plans tomorrow—with a vengeance."

Ian groaned and shoved himself into the back of his shadowy prison.

Devon ground his teeth, locking them like when he snapped ice cube in two. "Just a little pinprick today. That is all you get. The History Museum group has been working on a new kind of biological weapon, hopefully, to use against all of your kind."

His captor glared at Ian, his eyes burning embers of hatred. "I'm of two minds on this. First, I want it to work because I want you all disappeared. But second, I've been informed you are to be my last subject, and I want you to last."

Devon's face grew redder by the second, his hands clenched into whitened fists, and his jaw tightened to the point it would not have been surprised Ian if it cracked. Ian looked away as the cool fingers raked  the inside of his body.

Through his clenched jaw, Devon said, "My last subject! They, it seems, have gotten all the information they need. Well, I haven't! We have gained so much from your kind, it has helped millions of ours. Millions! What more could we learn? And they say it ends?"

Devon walked to the counter, and setting his arm to it, swept everything off in one furious arc. The loud tumbling of metal and glass deafened Ian and Vincent for a moment. Devon turned and pointed to Ian. "How long can you live? Because if you are the end, I'm going to make you last!"

He kicked one of the metal pans causing another series of clangs as it skidded across the floor. It stopped at Vincent's feet. His hand trembled as he reached to pick the dish up, then held it awkwardly to his chest.

The tirade continued, "Who are they to say this ends? Who are they? It was my uncle that started this company after my father was murdered." Devon punched a finger at Ian. "By your friend! The Atlantis company, he always did have a strange sense of humor. Guess who his first visitor was? Oh yes, Argos. Or should we call him Blake? That was the fifties. Oh, the things he learned from that man!"

Ian felt the cold spread through him like the chill waters of the north sea when it entered the southern warm ones.

"He buried the bodies at first, but by the time I took over, I mean, why bother? No one stopped us. No one cared."

From beneath hooded lids, Ian watched Devon. We cared.

"At least if this works you will all be dead, which is what my uncle and I wanted all along. All of you swept from the seas of the earth!"

Ian had nothing to lose, he was dead one way or another. He swallowed then regretted it when his mouth became even drier. "This disease. It may not kill us, it may kill you."

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