The technician rubbed his eyes, tired from staring at the row of monitors for the last ten hours. 
	“Hey Rico, when is the next wake up call?” Inquired the fox sitting at his station to his coworker.
	Rico was a worker on loan from the Ram Alliance, a sort of bargaining chip  from the signing of the alliance agreement. The big ram was a diligent worker, unlike the docile fox he was usually working with. 
	“You're two minutes late Antoni. You had best wake Number Eight now lest they take his tardiness out on you.”
	The fox was visibly irritated as he dragged a holographic monitor over to the main window, giving him a perfect view of the coffin like bed that the Elite Number Eight, code name “Trick”, slept in.
	“Elite Number Eight, it is time to awaken.”
	The screen flickered a bit, and the lid to the bed banged open loudly. 
	The technician Antoni looked over at Rico and said. 
	“Why does he always do that? You'd think he has it in for the guy that makes the lids for those things. Always kicks em right off. And why didn't you tell me it was time to wake him up? I thought you had my back?”
	Rico grunted. 
	“That would be payback for the pepper sauce in my coffee you little prick.”
	As the two argued bitterly, Trick pulled on a pair of BDU pants and a tank top for the psych evaluation he had been dreading. 
	He laced up his boots and reflected on the situation. He had made the mistake of mentioning a recurring dream to one of the FNGs in the mess hall and not an hour later he was scheduled for daily sessions. 
	“I wonder if I snapped that guy's neck if I'd be reprimanded? Probably.”
	As the Elite approached the door to his quarters he felt the familiar presence invade the corners of his mind. He knew the whisper was coming but it still sent him into his buzzed state for an instant. 
 	“Still your lips. Tell no tales.” 
	The voice always filled his stomach with slugs and his spine with ice.
	He hadn't been hearing it long, only the last week or so, but it always accompanied the presence that kept him awake.
	Trick slowly pressed the door release button, and it opened silently.
 	“Coward. Weakling.  Bitch.”
	The last word was more severe than the others and caused trick to hurry from the room. 
	After he was in the well lit hallway, the presence faded and he heard no more.
	He didn't know why he was hearing things. Lack of sleep he thought, but was he losing sleep because of the presence or was the presence because of his insomnia?
	Rounding the corner at a brisk pace, he shook the thought from his head. 
	“Gotta watch that, the shrink will pick up on it” He mumbled and quickly sidestepped one of the random lab techs he tried to avoid on his daily routine. 
	The girl squeaked when he did, apparently she hadn't seen him coming, and he never made a sound when he moved. 
	Number Eight ignored her apologies and continued on his way until he reached the medical wing.
	The receptionist motioned for him to sign in but he was on autopilot and walked right past the desk. 
 	That little bit of buzz had nearly exhausted him, and made him damn thirsty. 
	He wasn't thinking clearly and going into the doc with this sort of mindset could land him in more sessions, or worse, sideline him completely.
	Eight stopped and pushed an intern out his way at the water fountain and drank for three solid minutes. 
	The gaping rodent of some sort, Trick really didn't take much notice in his sleep deprived state, stopped yelling at him when he saw the pentagonal shaped dog tags he wore around his neck. The tags only Elites wore. 
	“S-sorry sir.” he stammered out as Trick walked past him.
	The fox didn't care. The man was behind him and no threat. Trick had to get this over with so he could get back to bed, and his insomnia plagued sleep.
	“Whatever.” he mumbled.
	He was staggering as he reached the psychiatry offices and nearly delirious when he sat down before the stoat in a finely tailored suit.
	“Hello Number Eight, do you know you're late?”
	Trick felt ashamed of himself. He was never late, and this man was a military officer in addition to a shrink, he wasn't showing proper protocol or respect.
	“Sorry sir. I was not aware sir.”
	He was technically exempt from the chain of command but he knew that his orders were to comply, so he chose to treat him as his CO.
	The stoat shuffled his papers and put them in a drawer. 
	“Tell me then, have you slept today?”
	Trick rubbed his temples. 
	“I don't know sir. Don't you have the tapes and bed data?”
	The psychiatrist leaned forward in his chair and folded his hands.
	“I want to know if you felt like you slept, not the hard data. I will ask again Number Eight, have you slept today?”
	Trick hated this, hated the judgement and the tone this man used. His hatred though wasn't acceptable to him, he had to obey, it was his place to.
	“No sir.”
	The man removed his glasses and took a drink of something from a mug on his desk.
	“Have you had the dream again?”
	Trick felt a tingle in the back of his mind.
 	“Quiet.”
	Trick ignored it and said, “Yeah, twice as I tried to sleep today.”
	His head roared.
 	'Fool! Traitor! Punishment!”
	 He winced visibly and the doctor pressed a remote control on his desk, recording the session now.
	“Number Eight? Are you feeling alright?”
	The young looking fox sat up as straight as possible and through blurred vision looked him in the eyes.
	“Just a headache. I'll be fine.”
	He lied. He felt terrible and weak, but he couldn't anger the voice. It would hurt him again.
	The stoat regarded Trick with his beady and accusing eyes.
	“I don't believe you.”
	Trick heard the voice again. 
 	“Say nothing.”
	He didn't hesitate at all when he spoke.
	“I'm sorry doctor Olson, but I don't care. I need to go back to sleep, and do we really need to do this today?”
	The man in front of Trick did something uncharacteristic, he smiled.
	“Well then I have good news for you. The department head and your commanding officer have authorized me to use a sensory deprivation chamber. A technician will meet you in reception to lead you to the designated room.”
	Trick didn't know what to say, he was addled by sleep deprivation true, but sensory deprivation seemed to be worse. He relied on his senses to stay alive, and the thought of not having them filled him with dread.
	“With all due respect doctor Olson, I don't think putting an Elite in one of those tubes is a good idea. We tend to react violently when awakened in the best of conditions, and I for one calm down more easily when I can see that I am not under attack.”
	The psychiatrist just handed him a sealed orders envelope and kept the unnerving smile on his face.
	Trick broke the biometric seal with his thumb print and removed the thin paper inside.
	The message was on official letterhead and said, “Just do it.” with the proper authorization code.
	Trick tossed the orders on the desk and saluted before storming silently out. 
	“Stupid motherfucker has no idea what he is doing.” 
	The soldier was angry, but he only subconsciously knew why. He feared the dream, feared being held down in a tube of water with no way to escape it. 
	The intern he accosted before was standing at the reception chatting with the technician he was meant to meet. 
	“Umm sir? Are you Number Eight? If so I need your signature here.”
	The rodent held up the receptionist's sign in sheet. 
	This annoyed the fox greatly, as he was clearly registered by both cameras and biometrics as having been here.
	“Gimme.” he growled and signed his name and times to the paper, and with a grin snapped the hardened metal clipboard in half between his paws.
	“You the tech? Lets get this the hell over with.”
	The walk down the hall to the room was silent, Trick was glad for it. His little clipboard stunt had worked and he was glad to not have to waste energy on speaking to the lab coat leading him.
	The technician was some form of canid, probably a refugee, who kept checking his dataslate compulsively as they descended to the basement in a lift. 
	Trick felt a knot in his stomach and his vision kept blurring from exhaustion, and his migraine was getting worse. 
	The tech was startled when Number Eight fell into him. 
	“Oh Hell! Let me help you up.”
	The dog tried to lift Trick up from where he was now sitting, leaning against the back wall of the lift.
	“Back off mutt! I can stand, I just got dizzy.”
	Trick had his pride, and didn't need this errand boy's help. If doc Olson wanted to torture him, he could at least have the decency to do it himself.
	The door to the lift opened before Trick managed to get to his feet. 
	The tech held the doors open while the fox staggered into the hallway. 
	“We are in room fourteen, its towards the back unfortunately. Do you want a wheelchair?”
	He'd had enough now, Trick gave the annoying man a quick jab to the solar plexus knocking the wind out of him and causing momentary paralysis. The funny thing-Trick thought-was he felt better. The knot in his stomach had gone, and he could see a little more clearly.
	“Good boy.”
	He'd made the voice happy, and this made Number Eight uneasy. 
	“Come on you moron, lets go.”
	Trick picked the dog up from the floor and handed him his data pad.
	The tech took it with shaking hands and tears in his eyes, the pain in his torso warning him against saying anything. He thought his ribs were broken and now knew the rumours were true about the Elites. They were easy to provoke, and violent as a person can be.
	“Y-yes sir.” Came the reply, and the two of them walked through the concrete hallways to room fourteen.
	The door to room fourteen was steel and slid sideways into the wall when the technician inserted a security passcard. 
	“Okay Number Eight, I am not permitted in the room due to the biosensors being calibrated for you. Just go in and strip down, the tube has a sort of harness you'll strap into before it will lower you in and start the filling procedure. The Oxyfluid will temporarily drown you, well it will feel like drowning. Try not to break the chamber, don't fight it. After a full and uninterrupted sleep cycle...” he flipped a few pages on a clipboard. “... your chart says twenty one hours, your tube will drain and a revival crew will revive you and help empty your lungs. Any questions?” 
	With a slight gleam in his left eye Trick smirked. 
	“Yeah, do your ribs still hurt?”
	Laughing he walked backwards through the doorway and hit the close button.
	Then it was there again, that presence he felt only in his personal quarters before. Trick felt a chill go up his spine to the nape of his neck then back down to the tip of his tail. 
	“Why did I say that? What the Hell is wrong with me today?” 
	“That would be me little bitch.”
	The voice was here too, but Trick jumped and buzzed himself when he heard the lid to the deprivation chamber open. Despite all of this, he couldn't make himself turn and look. His adrenaline pumping and neural pathways wide open, he could hear his every bodily function, the camera iris zooming in on him, and something he couldn't identify, something like scales on metal.
	“I told you to keep your mouth shut, but you did not listen.”
	The camera he had located in the right hand corner of the room exploded from a physical blow and the pieces falling to the floor sounded like a sort of perverse rain.
	“I told you there would be punishment. You are mine now.”
	The florescent lighting was ripped from the ceiling and swung back and forth blinking out and sending Trick's world into darkness for long moments. 
	“You are 'buzzing' are you not? So so mighty little fox, yet far too cowardly to face me. You know I am here and you still cannot turn. How fitting, I like my bitches to be servile.”
	Trick could feel something teasing at the edges of his clothes. Several knobby eel like things were slithering their way inside them. 
	The physical sensation steeled him slightly, just enough to speak.
	“Who...who are you?” Came his voice softly.
	The things in his clothes he hadn't been able to look at had coiled themselves around is body and were straining against the material.
	“You know my name. You have always known. I want you to say it. Say my name bitch!”
	The buzz had banished all his fatigue but Trick was powerless to stop himself from speaking.
	“Raith... your name is Raith. How do I know that?”
	The voice now had a name, and Raith was laughing.
	“How indeed? Let me enlighten you, you are mine, and I mark my property!”
	The tendrils inside his clothes ripped through them like paper while the coils kept them from pulling at his flesh.
	Trick gasped and reached for the door button with all the will he could muster.
	“Oh no we cannot have that Trick! I still need to have my fun.”
	One of Raith's extensions destroyed the door button and a large mass of shadowy substance hit the steel door bending it and forming a seal over it at the same time.
	Trick felt lost, he couldn't escape this creature, and he still hadn't even seen it.
	“Let me go!”
	Raith breathed in with a sucking sound. 
	“Say please.”
	Trick was terrified, naked, entangled, and trapped in the room with the voice from his head. He had no idea what was happening to him now, only that it was in fact real. The bruises forming on his wrists and ankles were proof enough. 
	“Please let me go?”
	Raith let the tentacles go slack for an instant.
	“No.”
	Their grip returning and yanking him from his feet, Trick hit the floor hard, not hard enough to injure his unnaturally resilient form, but hard enough to make him feel it. The shadowy things wrapped around his neck and through his open mouth like a gag, dragging him slowly backwards towards the thing he didn't ever want to see.
	“There, now is this not better? No more pleas. No more cries for mercy. The only sounds I will hear are your moans and panting.”
	    His claws left gouges in the concrete as he was lifted by his waist into the air. Raith spun him around to face him.
	Trick held his eyes tightly shut, and didn't know why he couldn't open them. He just felt that his very life depended on it.
	“Oh ho! Clever are we? You will open your eyes boy, you always do.”
	Trick didn't know what he meant by that, but the momentary doubt it caused let Raith open his left eye.
	“Fool. Weak bitch. That eye will always betray you. Look at me!”
	Trick's eyes shot open, giving him his first look at his captor.
	It was like looking in a mirror, only darker. He looked exactly like Trick only black as nightmare and taller than he. The tips of his lain back ears were the same blood red as his rhythmically twitching tail. He had more red markings down his sides that reminded Trick of old wounds.
	“Good boy. Now let me get a good look at you.”
	The tentacles that seemed to grow from the dim light in the room pushed his head up and into Raith's face. Their eyes met and a flash of emotion struck Trick like a hammer. A faint green glow from the shadowy doppelganger's eyes drew him in. 
	“There we are. Mine now!”
	The creature gripped Trick's sheath firmly causing the fox to moan and salivate around the tendril gag. Raith walked around the bound Elite and ran his hands down the fox's spine and stopped on his ass, gripping it hard enough to make Trick cry out.
	“Young. Taught. Ready.”
	Forcing the fox's cheeks apart and pressing a tentacle to his tailhole, making Trick moan out loud.
	The gagging tentacle slid itself into Tricks mouth and wriggled slightly as it entered the top of his throat. 
	“So vocal. This is going to be most fun.”
	The tentacle probed and pushed into Trick's throat forcibly, causing him to gag a few times as Raith circled back around front. 
	Saliva ran down his face and onto the concrete below. 
	“You are blushing little bitch. I am ever so glad you are enjoying yourself.”
	Trick felt his face grow warm. He was sure he hadn't been blushing before but he knew he was enjoying the phallic thing in his throat. Being used was secretly his greatest desire, and he somehow knew that the thing in front of him was using that to his advantage.
	Trick felt the tentacle throb and pulse inside his muzzle and as it removed itself from his mouth, shadowy essence spilled out and onto the floor as the tentacle continued its gross approximation of a cock, spraying more of itself onto his face.
	The dark splotches of shadowy “semen” on his face stayed only long enough for him to feel embarrassed at his state in front of Raith.
	“That is excellent bitch. Now it is my turn. You will enjoy this part, of that I am sure!”
	The tentacles holding his ankles pulled strongly apart, spreading his legs forcibly. The one still lewdly dripping shadow stuff onto the floor wound itself around and pressed its saliva slick end into his tailhole.
	Trick cried out as his hole stretched. 
	“So vocal. Now show me the respect I demand fox. Suck...my...dick.”
	The coils around his waist hauled him up while the ones on his wrists pulled forward, effectively bending him in half. 
	He gasped loudly as the thing invading his ass thrusted and writhed. 
	Trick's view was filled with a large, black, shadowy knot pointing at the ceiling.
	“Suck. Now!”
	Raith's eyes glowed with green light and Trick lost all will to fight it. 
	He opened his mouth slowly, sticking his tongue out dutifully.
	Raith didn't hesitate shoving his knot into Trick's mouth. 
	At first he used one of his tentacles to pull the fox's head onto his shaft, but after a few moments it wasn't necessary. Trick's weakness for cock won out, and he buried his nose in the musky hair at the base, swallowing and licking at the shadowy assailant's sack.
	“So nice you feel. Let us see if the rest of you feels this nice shall we?”
	The black fox grew slightly larger with each step towards the back of his plaything. He ran one large paw along Trick's chest and down his stomach as he went, stroking him a few times to get a moan  to pass Trick's lips. 
	“This belongs to me as well. If you want to enjoy yourself, beg for it. Tell me how much of my bitch you are and I will let you feel good.”
	As the tendrils around his wrists pinned his palms flat on the floor, the probing tentacle in his ass split and shrank down into a pair of small hook like protrusions that held Trick's ass wide for Raith.
	His will was given back to him, and the small fox was aware of everything he had done, and he liked it. He hadn't felt this alive in longer than he could remember.
	“Please give it to me. Let me feel good.”
	Raith bounced the tip of his cock on Trick's tailhole repeatedly as he spoke. 
	“That is not very convincing, I think you can do better. You will get no pleasure if you presume to order me.”
	Trick wanted to be filled more than he ever had before in his life. The part that made this realization... better for him was that he knew Raith had given his will back. 
	“Please! Please fuck me!” he shouted, the sound of his voice echoed off of the walls, making him feel dirtier than before.
	Raith rewarded the young fox by stretching him wider with his tentacles and putting the head of his engorged cock inside him.
	“That was a little better, but I believe you can do more. Try harder little bitch.”
	Trick gasped when he felt the head go in. The fox inhaled deeply and shouted at the top of his lungs.
	“Please fuck your little bitch! I deserve it!”
	The shadowy figure smiled. 
	“Indeed you do. Let me hear you make music boy.”
	With those words the tendrils gripping the inside of his tailhole gave one final tug outwards as Raith shoved his swollen member into the moaning fox, all the way to the thickest part of the knot.
	Trick stretched wide yelped in pain as the knot popped into his insides.
	“Holy shit! You're thick.”
	The Elite had felt filled plenty of times in his life, but never had he felt like he did now. 
	The tentacles spreading him relaxed and the pain subsided. Much to his surprise, the two shadowy protrusions didn't pull out of him, but rather began thrusting back into him around the massive knot. 
	“Such sweet music you make when I am fucking you.”
	Trick was letting out little yips as the smaller things poked and thrusted into him, changing their position around the engorged knot that was slowly being humped into his rear. Another shadowy tether slid up his thigh and over the end of his dripping shaft, gripping it like a mouth and making slow milking motions.
	“Ah * yip * yes * yip * just like that * yip*.”
	The tentacles that held his paws to the floor unwound and Trick used them to support his weight as they slowly lifted him to a standing position. 
	The young fox was panting now and could feel the knot inside him threatening to pop out of his ass as he leaned on the shadow stuff like the handles of a motorcycle.
	“You feel wonderful you little bitch. Let us see if you can handle something more.”
	The tentacles in his hands changed shape and consistency, becoming phallic and warm. Trick began stroking them firmly without being told, he knew what was expected of him. 
	“So glad to see you have accepted your fate. But we are not through yet, prepare yourself.”
	Trick squirmed and gasped when the coils around his chest slid up under his arms and the ones on his ankles lifted from the ground. 
	Raith was still humping into him with vigour as the tentacles pulled his knees upwards effectively putting himself into a vertical suspended missionary position.
	Trick tried to speak, but was incapable of words as he gasped and groaned and yipped obediently.
	Speed quickening in the tentacles thrusting into his ass told the fox what was coming, as a sudden pressure on his prostate caused a large amount of precome to squirt into the milking mouth on his cock. The pressure  pulsed again and again as the tentacles in his rectum emptied more of the semen like shadow fluid inside of him.
	Trick heard the sound of it splashing onto the concrete floor below him and looked down to see a pool forming underneath him.
	“You were so tight little fox slut, I had to loosen you up. Now that you have been filled sufficiently with my seed, I can fuck you properly!”
	The massive knot popped out and then back in with a squelch that was quite possibly the most embarrassing noise Trick had ever heard. 
	The two shadow cocks he had been stroking rapidly looped over themselves and his paws and pulled themselves to his face, firing off thick and heavy ropes of shadow seed that stuck to his hair, face, and dripped from his muzzle where he had opened it to catch some.
	The taste was sweeter than he expected and had a strange tingling sensation on his tongue.
	“Good. Eat it all. Be my bitch!”
	Raith was getting excited, Trick felt it as the shadowy fox fucked his ass hard and fast, the knot making wet noises and his hips smacking loudly on the suspended soldier's buttocks.
	The shadow mouth on his groin split in half and drifted up into Number Eight's field of vision before striking out like a cobra into his open mouth. Trick gagged from the suddenness of it but sucked greedily on the rapidly swelling phallic end filling his muzzle.
	The binding coils on his wrists went slack and released his arms as Raith growled and bit down on his left ear. Trick used his new found freedom to reach back behind Raith's head and interlock his fingers.
	The black and red fox spit out his fuck toy's ear and snarled into it.
	“I just knew you would come around to my point of view. You will be an excellent plaything!”
	Raith then bit into the crook of Trick's neck and savagely fucked him.
	The sharp pain in the Elite's neck sent him over the edge and he came fiercely into the tentacle around his dick, who greedily sucked his semen into a balloon like pouch that had formed. 
	Tricks eyes were wide open when that pocket of his own seed travelled quickly up the tube like mouth tentacle and into the one in his own muzzle, the one that was pulsating and twitching inside him eager to deliver Trick his own seed.
	Trick's eyes widened when he saw what was coming, and he shook his head slightly, but the false phallus ready to deliver his own semen enlarged at his lips and wrapped over his muzzle keeping him from spitting out his reward. 
	“That is right, struggle bitch! You will not get away! The only thing you will get is fucked harder!”
	Trick's mouth filled with his own sticky semen and he only realized he could breathe through the shadow when he swallowed.
	The tube over hes face dissipated like smoke and the fox started to yelp loudly as Raith clamped down on his nape with his jaws. A mere instant later he locked hips and swelled to truly knot Trick's ass as he pumped a massive, hot load into the red fox's bowels.
	“Just as you deserve bitch! Feel my essence flood you.”
	 Trick was whining and panting as a orange spot appeared on the door behind them before the intercom came on as well.
	“Number Eight! If you can hear us we will get you out in around 3 hours. It will take us that long to cut through the door.”
	Raith was not happy.
 	“Interlopers! Bastards! Fools! You cannot have him! He belongs to me!”
	The intercom came on again, this time it was doctor Olson. 
	“Who was speaking just now? Who is in...” 
	Raith cut him off by stabbing a tendril through the intercom system.
 	“Fear not little bitch, we still have plenty of time to ourselves.”
	The shadowy red and black fox's form lost cohesion and became a sort of cloud of blackness that drifted with Trick into the sensory deprivation chamber. The last thing Trick remembered was getting hard again as two tentacles fought for position in his ass, and another closed the door to the tube.

	The technician cut through the heavy steel door's last inch of interconnected metal with the plasma torch and stepped back to make room for the magnetic arm used to swing it out of the way. 
	“It's open doctor Olson. What could have bent it like that?”
	The doctor sneered at the idiot technician. 
	“I would imagine it was Number Eight.”
	The canine pressed the button to retract the arm that held the heavy slab of bent steel. As the door moved past he caught sight of Olson's confused face. 
	“”What the fuck is that?” 
	The aperture of the room had been covered with a translucent mass of some sort.
	“What do we do doctor?”
	The stoat looked at his dataslate and pressed the security call button.
	“I am going to go meet the security team, you try and cut that with the torch and get in there.”
	The dog was scared, and he didn't want to get near that stuff.
	“Can't I wait for the security team?” He whined.
 	Doctor Olson grew impatient.
	“Don't be a coward! If it were going to hurt you it would have by now and Number Eight may be dying in there!”
	Though he wasn't fond of Number Eight, the canine knew how rare an Elite was and didn't want to be responsible for one's death.
	“Alright fine then.”
	The doctor fled towards the lift as the dog donned his goggles and fired up the torch again.
	His paws shook as he reached out with the torch and tentatively touched the inky substance.
	As the bright bead at the end of the focusing wand came into contact, the shadowy blockade split like a thin membrane stretched too thinly over a large hole.
	“The fuck is this shit?” Mused the dog as he used the torch to cut fully through the black seal on the door in a few moments.
	“Well, that was easy.”
	He turned off the torch and set it on the rack before turning on his flashlight and entering the room, looking for the misplaced Elite.
	“Number Eight? Are you able to respond?”
	The dog never knew these would be his last words, because no sooner than he uttered them, the shadow in the corner exploded outward at him in a swirling mass of hooks, claws, teeth, and spines, hitting the man with the force of a large truck. He was liquified on impact with the concrete wall behind him.
	The noise was heard by the four security officers and the doctor as they got close to the door. 
	The captain of the team barked out, “Weapons hot and lights on!”
	The hum of the energy packs warming the weapons reverberated off the walls as they took up positions around the door.
	“Elite Number Eight is in there so check your fire.”
	The captain gave the signal and they stormed the room, sweeping the area with lights.
	“We've got blood on the wall, and a technician's ID badge.” said a grey fox security officer.
	The captain himself mentally noted this information as he looked at the tube in the back quarter of the room, midway along the wall. He hadn't noticed in the dim light but something was webbed over the outside of the chamber.
	“Doctor Olson, what the fuck is this?”
 	The doctor stuck his head around the frame and replied, “That is the same material that was over this door. I don't know what it is.”
	While they were speaking the web dissipated before the captain's eyes.
	“Where did it go doc?”
	Doctor Olson didn't get a chance to respond, a few knocks came from the locked door of the sensory deprivation chamber.
	“He's inside! Watts, you get the lid! Three point formation!” 
	The three members that weren't Watts formed a triangle around the capsule.
	Doing a non verbal countdown, Watts flipped the lock override and opened the lid.
	What happened next was pure chaos. Raith had taken what he affectionately called his “war form” and killed Watts instantly as once of his claws exited the back of his skull before crushing his brain.
 	“He is mine!”
	The captain fired a shot from his rail gun that went wide and exploded in a one meter crater in the wall, and Raith whipped out an axe blade topped tentacle, splitting him in half.
 	The two remaining guards panicked and the one that attempted to flee the room continued to try  and run as his legs were severed at the knees. He screamed loudly as he hit the floor, but only for a moment as the shadow monster impaled him through the torso, pinning him to the floor and rending his heart from his chest.
	The fox who had been examining the stain that was once a technician fired true and the white light of his plasma rifle exploded, discorporating the shadow fox.
	“Holy shit! Doc get in here!”
	Doctor Olson walked past the puddles of blood and organs littering the floor straight to the chamber.
	“There you are Number Eight, safe and sound.”
	Trick was nude and coated in the black stuff that had been covering the door and chamber just minutes ago. The Elite wasn't quite asleep, nor fully awake.
	“How'd you get in doc?” He asked the stoat.
 	Doctor Olson pulled out his pocket analyzer and scanned Trick's biological state. They were off the charts, he was buzzed and apparently had been the entire time he was in the room. He was showing no signs of stress or dehydration that accompanied even a short period.
	“Nevermind that Eight, how do you feel?”
	Trick blinked lazily at the man. 
	“I feel great doctor. Can I go back to my quarters? I'd really like a nap.”
 	Olson plugged the analyzer into the chambers computer and checked his CT scans and brain chemistry. His scan was normal for a buzzed Elite, but the chemical levels showed he was in an absolutely euphoric state. Something had happened to him in here, and since his toxicology was clean, it wasn't drugs.
	“Sure Number Eight, I will have you woken up for your appointment tomorrow.”
	Trick yawned and stood up from the harness he hadn't been buckled into. 
	“Thanks doc.” He mumbled, and walked gingerly towards the door, completely oblivious to the carnage around him.
	He walked back to his quarters completely nude, and though he saw the stares he didn't care. Trick had never in his life been so content.
	The last thing he heard after climbing into his coffin like bed was Raith's voice.
 	“Sleep now little bitch, tomorrow we kill that doctor.”