There was a bright light in his eyes when he opened them again. He couldn’t see anything beyond or around it; it seemed for a few brief moments that the light was his world and his body was something detached from it.

He blinked once and the sensation was gone, though the remains of the light glowed against his eyelids when he closed them again.

He was still strapped to the table, though he wasn’t sure he could have moved if he’d wanted to. His muscles and limbs felt weak and achy and there was a burning sensation deep within, the new part of him that begged to be fulfilled, to be utilized. A part of him now that he wasn’t familiar or comfortable with.

His senses had faded; he could only hear what he should be able to hear. There were voices in the hallway and JC calmed his breathing enough that he could understand what they said.

"He’s a class three."

"Wait, isn’t that the one…"

"Yeah."

"What are they going to do with him?"

"Kill him, I expect."

JC closed his eyes, wishing he could close his ears as well, but man was not allowed to choose what he wanted to hear. He thought of Chris, of how he’d met his end. Chris.

"Why activate this one?"

"Captain's orders."

He didn’t wake completely, could barely open his eyes. He thought he felt lips against his ear, breath tickling along his hairline.

The lips moved, and he thought he heard a voice, maybe one he recognized, whisper. “Who’s the leech now?” before he fell under again.

He woke again as a succession of lights played over his head, too quickly for him to focus on any one light and he thought he might vomit from the sensation. Eventually, they ceased and turned into a dim, gray sky.

He couldn’t tell what time of day it was, had no idea how many days he’d been strapped to that table. He didn’t care.

They loaded him onto another van and a man with another syringe was waiting for him inside. He prepared the shot as the van went into motion.

JC felt the car jolt to a stop just as he went under.

"Where are you from?" he heard. The loud voice invaded his dreamless sleep, dragging him from the darkness that enveloped him.

"Nowhere," he said. "Take me home."

"We’re trying," he heard the voice say.

"What’d you give him?" another voice asked.

"The usual. It's never done this before."

"Can you get an address off him? We need to dump him soon."

JC felt soothing hands on the flushed, burning skin on his face. "Your address, where do you live?"

JC licked his dry tongue across his lips and coughed. "42nd," he wheezed. "Next to the factory."

"Next to what?" the man sounded like he was shouting down a tunnel and JC could barely hear him, for all that the man crouched over him, mouth next to his ear.

"Factory," he managed, before the world darkened again.