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Prayer into the Dark, by DragonMasterX.

Part 1.

June, 1999.

Darkness spread like an endless mantle covering all before her eyes. Nothingness was absolute. Muffled words turned to incomprehensible mutters as her head rung with the pain of a thousand needles embedded into her head. She could not see, she could not properly hear; everything hurt. The horrible feeling of loneliness merged with fear and uncertainty to create a unique breed of despair that her mind could simply not mitigate. She was lost to an eternity of recurring pain.

If at any point her thoughts deviated to the kind of person she used to be, they instantly diluted from the pounding in her head and the stinging of every square inch on her body. Whatever her memories had been composed of mattered little to the physical and psychological damage. One of the few things she had been able to feel were those memories coming undone like a sweater whose thread was being constantly pulled away. Whatever she had been before this point, it was all gone.

---

"She's flat-lining again! We're going to resuscitate. Stop the procedure!" one of the surgeons cried as the electrocardiogram emitted a drawn-out beep, prompting those present in the operating room to take action.

"Damnit!" Doctor Everett frowned as he quickly pulled back, clinching his forceps around a bloodied membrane which he threw into a tray out of frustration. His assistants handed him defibrillating pads whose voltage he adjusted: "CLEAR!" he shouted. The body on the bed violently shook, but the EKG's beeping came unchanged. "Again! CLEAR!" The second defibrillation was successful, and the readings returned to normal. One of the nurses took the pads off Dr. Everett's hands while another used a towel to clean the sweat off his brow.

"Doctor Everett," his assisting surgeon shook his head with a frown, "I'm afraid it's too dangerous to continue. There is so much we can do about this patient."

"That's the point, Rodriguez. We haven't been able to do ANYTHING about this patient. I can't give up on her."

Rodriguez looked between his partner and the operating table. There lay a sight too revolting for words. A young woman's body, covered head to toe in serious burns, any identifiable visage gone from a once human form. "She was brought in at the verge of death. As a doctor, no matter how I look at it, I can't reason out how she still is alive. The burns cover all of her body."

"I know."

"The sub-cutaneous burns have torn muscle tissue beyond repair and made it impossible for blood to flow properly due to internal hemorrhage. The only reason she's still breathing is because we were able to treat those internal wounds, Doctor."

"I know! But..." Dr. Everett bit down on his teeth, straining his mask, "Nothing we do about the chemical burns will work."

Rodriguez nodded with a sullen expression. The nurses assisted both of them to carry the patient out of the operating room, constantly checking on the stabilizer fluid and the EKG. "Transplanting skin grafts hasn't been effectual. We've tried three times so far, and each time her body rejected the treatment. Her vitals are too unstable to work with this procedure."

"Tell me something I don't know, Rodriguez," Dr. Everett sighed, his restless baggy eyes never taking off the sight of his disfigured, comatose patient. "I had hope that maybe by treating her injuries, both external and internal, she would wake up. She's so young. Can't be a year older than 16. They brought her in like this, no identification, probably burnt, no way to physically identify her."

"Just what kind of life did she have?" Rodriguez intercepted as they put the unconscious form of the young girl on her bed.

"And will she ever be able to go back to it?" Dr. Everett sat next to the severe burn victim. "It's a miracle she survived. Hell, that she still is with us. Damnit Rodriguez, she looks like fire victim from the morgue more than a patient!"

"I know, doctor." The intern groaned as the nurses left. He sat down to the other side of the bed to confront their inevitable reality. "But even if her body has somehow been able to handle all the physical damage, and with her vital organs still functioning, she doesn't have a lot of time like this. Without regenerating her first layer of protection versus infections she will..."

"...yeah."

"I'm sorry. I know you're doing your best, doctor," Rodriguez added, "But even you have to admit this is hopeless."

"Hopeless..." Everett repeated inside his head. He solemnly contemplated the patient's body. The doctor wondered just what circumstance had prompted an event such as this. Two days had already passed since their mysterious patient had been wheeled into the ER. She had been unconscious on arrival, on a deep slumber from which it was looking like she may never recover. It was even more frustrating that all of the hospital's efforts to operate on their patient had been foiled by the body's incredible resistance to foreign matter; suturing wounds caused by internal hemorrhage had already been difficult enough. It was perhaps that kind of resistance that was keeping her safe from infections at the same time, for so long. But even in constantly sanitized, sterile environments, their patient would eventually succumb. His thoughts were clouded with sadness. "Worse still, without being able to identify or communicate with her, we can't find any relatives or guardians. If this keeps up, the hospital will eventually be unable to shelter her..." Dr. Everett regretted the state of the system, but the bills were also a reality they had to fight against.

"Doctor, I will go ahead and write our report. You take it easy, okay?" Rodriguez stood up, leaving the pensive Dr. Everett on his chair. "You've already done enough."

After quietly looking over his patient for what seemed like hours, Everett hung his head and spoke in a whispering tone: "I had a sibling like you. Young and pretty, probably like you. She died because no doctor could find a way to operate on a tumor they had deemed hopeless. That's why I became a practitioner, so I could save even the most hopeless of cases. I thought I had it. But as a human, I've come to realize how limited we truly are. They sent you my way after the paramedics failed to treat your wounds. The research team can't come up with a way to treat your burns. I'm... I'm useless. But I won't give up. I'll find a way. I'll make whatever calls I need to make. I'm a doctor and I must save your life, even if it will not be my scalpel operating on you."

---

Several weeks later, at the German city of Berlin, the country's single largest state.

"In other words, your custom-made treatment will truly save the patient?" the voice coming out of the phone sounded firm yet full of inquiry.

A man at his office spoke back at the transceiver on his desk while he tick-tacked away at his keyboard. "That is why you placed her life in my hands, Dr. Everett. Though I must warn you, it is becoming increasingly difficult for me to maintain conversations about this subject on insecure lines. I would appreciate it if you would stop calling every other day."

"Of course. You don't know how much this means to me."

"I really don't, doctor. You said she isn't related to you, that you don't even know who she is. I cannot say I don't appreciate being supplied critical patients such as this one in order to further my research on regeneration techniques, but are you not taking one too many liberties with this venue?"

"I might be, but I can't call myself a doctor if I don't do everything in my power to save even a single life," Everett responded firmly through the phone, "What about you, Dr. Masters?"

The man at the chair reclined and let out a small sigh, removing his glasses to scrunch his fingers between his eyes. "Seems like I've taught you well, Dr. Everett. Very well. You have my word I will use all of my experience as microbiologist and geneticist to save this life. My team of experienced surgeons and researchers will be ready."

"Thank you. Do you have any idea when will she arrive at Berlin?"

"Her transportation was scheduled for later today," Dr. Masters explained, slipping his glasses back on as he opened a presentation under his authorship with the title: "Bacterial DNA recombination."

"Like I've said before, Dr. Everett, you can rest easy. She's in good hands."

---

Being the spearhead of Germany's science and technology development, Berlin's universities and other facultative buildings counted with the backing of both public and private funds in order to bring about advancement with excellent quality. One such building existed in the outskirts of the great city, surrounded by large bodies of water and lush greenery. Equipped with state-of-the-art tech and staffed with some of the greatest minds from around the world, it was said that the Humani Corp. was headed into the new millennium with even greater ambitions: From the tracing of seemingly incurable diseases to the development of supporting technology and treatments to the pioneering of advanced genetic engineering.

Doctor Eugene Masters had joined the fray after he had left America, personally invited to join Humani's bioengineering and genetics team. Possessing a vast intellect and an easy-going nature, yet the hunger of a whale when it came to research, Dr. Masters quickly became popular to the point of renown among his peers. Now he sat as the head of his own R&D team with the sole purpose of helping a single young woman's life.

"It is as the charts say, Dr. Masters." The medical advisor nodded as he flipped through pages a second time, "Whether due to the absorption of the chemicals that caused the burns or some sort of unprecedented immunity, foreign skin grafts, let alone synthetic membranes, are unable to meld with the subject's tissue, preventing conventional treatments from working. I'm not surprised they deferred this patient: The sheer amount of antibiotics and disinfectants needed to keep potential risks off the exposed flesh... I don't think we're properly equipped to take care of her for any prolonged amount of time, either."

"We won't be worrying about supplies if we find a way to make her body harmonize with the regeneration serum," Edgar Schmidt, a grouchy, short statured man raised his voice. Being Dr. Masters' right hand man, eyes turned to him immediately: "Our top priority is to work Dr. Masters' recombination bacteria into her body in order to introduce the necessary traits into the patient's genetic makeup."

The medical advisor spoke again: "But Doctor Schmidt, we have only tested this on guinea pigs. While results have so far been satisfactory I highly doubt the recombination bacteria is ready to be used on human beings."

"Then what do you suggest?" Dr. Masters gestured with a hand to go on, so his passionate right-hand man, already standing up, would not spiral the conference into an aimless debate.

"Culture fluid to be injected into the patient in order to test for auto-grafting. At the other hospital, their formula isn't as potent as what we've already certified and is ready to mass produce. I propose we use our new formula to..."

"It will not work." Dr. Masters shook his head in disappointment, "I'm afraid that auto-grafting is out of the question."

"But why?"

"It doesn't matter how potent the culture fluid is made. The patient's skin will simply fester and make it even harder to treat the external injuries. We can't afford to conduct a second operation if this fails."

"I... I understand, doctor." The medical advisor took a seat back, "But the recombination bacteria..."

"Don't be fools," Schmidt interjected, "This is the break we've been waiting for. The board isn't interested in making rats or frogs regenerate peeled off skin. They want something that can be marketable. Where else are we going to find a subject this perfect for the job?"

"She did not volunteer. The patient can hardly breathe without causing further damage to her lungs, and you want to gene-slam her? The large amount of bio-stress this would generate..."

"Gentlemen..." Dr. Masters stood up, cutting the tense atmosphere, "This isn't about testing, the board, or even human ethics. There is a life at stake here, a human life. Humani stands for the advancement of the human race as a species, for which careful threading into the unknown is necessary but there can be no gain if we do not take action when it is called for. As a doctor, my patient is suffering from a multitude of symptoms we're seemingly not ready to counteract, but that is precisely why I have been refining my techniques over and over. I believe we are ready to enter the alpha stage of the Regenerative Xteria Project."

Schmidt's right hand balled into a fist he silently pumped. The rest of the team appeared to be sold by their leader's disposition. The medical advisor raised a hand and added: "But even if we wanted to, the Regenerative Xteria is not tailored to work with the human genome. It would just be repelled from the patient's body like every other non-nutrient object."

The lead scientist nodded. "I propose we devote all our resources and time to make the necessary adjustments to the existing Regenerative Xteria, then. I hate to pile on even more pressure, but we must hurry gentlemen. It is an understatement to say we only have a little time before our patient's condition worsens irremediably. Are we all on the same page here?"

"Yes, doctor."

---

Unending days and sleepless nights followed. As predicted, the patient's condition only worsened with time. To say that having lasted well over a month without her primary immune system and was still kicking was a miracle was no overstatement, but it made the team of scientists' job no easier. Dr. Masters was already a strict, even if understanding boss to work under, expecting nothing short of 100% precision from his subordinates. But after years of sucking up to Masters, Schmidt had begun to make his presence known in less than tasteful ways, such as bossing over the concurrence whenever Masters was gone. There even were rumors that the greedy man was out to succeed his mentor, but such drivel was of no importance to the good doctor.

Dr. Masters was only focused on his research, and to provide the world with a revolutionary way to look at life. There was so much potential in the innocuous organism he had discovered, that when stimulated in the appropriate way could act as catalyst and recombinator at the same time. Taking the traits of other species and harmlessly coding them inside the human genome in order to treat the harsher afflictions was just the start his dream of helping humanity. The Xteria would give way to super vaccines, cheaper production costs, and all-around better life-style. The unconscious young girl floating in life-preserving fluid before his pained expression was proof that the evolution of medicine was needed now more than ever.

Fortunately, Dr. Masters' team wasn't formed by slouches, and in due time their efforts paid handsomely in the form of a new strain of the Regenerative Xteria they had been looking for. Holding the results of hard work in the form of a green vial in his hand, Dr. Masters found himself observing the floating patient in her chamber again. Seeing the vitals on the green betrayed that inhumane appearance and the poor condition of the young girl. "No wonder Everett wanted me to help you. But worry not," he smiled, "If all goes well, not only will you be saved, but there is a high chance your system will adapt and restore your consciousness. But still, you're so young... almost the same age as my daughter. I'm sorry that you have to be the first in our experiment, but I assure you..." he softly spoke as he placed a palm on the see-through glass, "...I've taken all the necessary precautions. You will heal, in fact, you will be made stronger. There is a very low probability of failure."

It was then that Dr. Masters' late night musings was interrupted by his right hand coat pocket vibrating. His cell phone was ringing. He fished it out and his smile couldn't have been bigger: "Ah, Lexine. How is my pride and joy? Are you and your mother well? Mmhm. Yes. Oh, I am glad to hear about it. You will make your father proud as a psychologist... yes, yes, and as a geneticist as well, haha." His expression turned sullen as the conversation took on a different direction all of a sudden.

"Oh, miliy," he said in a badly spoken Russian as the phone on the other side seemed to switch hands, "Hello. Ahem..." he cleared his throat, the sweet doting father in him vanishing all of a sudden, "...we're at the final stages of our treatment. That's correct. We will see. It is as I said before, I'm afraid I will not be able to attend to the ceremony. Don't be like that, miliy. You know our davushka is all I can think about but right now, another girl needs my help. We've talked about this. No, I don't want anybody else operating on her. The name...? We still don't know. I'm hoping to have her tell me when she wakes up, but from the looks of it, she will probably have trouble remembering things due to the large amount of shock her neural system has suffered. If that's the case, I was thinking of naming her myself... What do you think about... Avelyn?"

Dr. Masters continued his conversation with a smile after the discussion went light-hearted, unaware that two ears were grudgingly listening on. "Naming guinea pigs, humph. Ever the sentimentalist, Masters."

---

The treatment began the following day without any further ado. The nutrient vat had been refreshed at the request of Dr. Masters, and their patient placed within, a single injector tube lodged in her right arm from outside. "Let us begin administering the Regenerative Xteria." With that said Dr. Masters attached the vial of his perfected serum to the other side of the injector and proceeded with administration.

"Vitals are stable," the medical aide said from the monitors that displayed the patient's data. "Assimilation is occurring!"

Every pair of eyes focused on the sight before them. That poor comatose young girl they had been preparing to treat for the better part of a week hadn't shown any improvement, much less now, but a glitter of hope remained. The serum had not been rejected; the recombination bacteria was inside the patient's blood stream, which meant cellular contact wasn't far away. Soon enough, the aide spoke again. "This can't be! Vitals are dropping at an alarming pace!"

"That is within our parameters. Remember that proper melding requires the subject's bio-structure to be rearranged!" Schmidt was more than anyone else focused on their success, but for a completely different motive. He had taken every necessary precaution, they HAD to succeed. But then there was a visible reaction. The burned patient began to squirm rather violently. "She's moving! Is it working?!"

The medical aide left the monitors to stand beside their leader. "No, her immune system is attempting to reject it...! W-we can't proceed! It's tearing her apart! Dr. Masters, we must suspend the treatment!"

The electrocardiogram was beeping wildly, every sensor reacting with the most extreme warning cues. "That... that is impossible," Dr. Masters grunted, his fists clenching hard, "I already told you. This was her one and last shot. It is up to her body to find a way to harmonize with the Xteria."

All the scientists could do was stare at the containment chamber as the convulsing woman's limbs squirmed. They saw her shuddering form twitch and bang against the sides of the reinforced see-through glass walls, air bubbling out of her oxygen mask as she struggled. "My god! Her breathing pattern...! She's hyperventilating, but she's doing so without the apparatus' help!"

"She's consciously hitting the walls around her!"

"Her eyes have opened!"

Finally, Dr. Masters could see his patient regaining consciousness. He couldn't force himself to smile just yet though. "The strong shocks to her systems must be stimulating all of her nerves at once. It's no wonder her brain receded from its comatose state. But with her being conscious, the process will only be more painful to her..." he bit his lips with a frown. "Just endure this. I promise you will be saved!" he thought to himself as everybody else stared in disbelief at the results before their eyes.

She was in pain again. She could feel her breathing become labored, a strange sensation of enclosing unpleasantness washing her senses over. She had to get out of wherever she was. The surroundings were wet and sticky, as if she was trapped within some sort of gelatin. Whatever situation she had gotten herself into, she wanted to get out of. But her arms felt heavy and her movements sluggish; she could barely swing at the confining walls. Her legs were numb, she couldn't properly move. She wasn't just confused and afraid, she was angry. "What is going on here...?! Where am I?!" she wanted to yell, but the mask around her face made her think twice about removing it. Part of her knew that she would drown if she took it off, so she looked for another alternative escape routes.

There was nothing, she was trapped inside a glass prison a little taller and wider than she was. There were men outside, or at least what her blurry vision could identify as human-like silhouettes. Had those people imprisoned her? Was she ever going to get out? Why was she hurting so much? The more she thought about it, the more her entire body hurt. The pain was both external and internal, as if she was being bitten by a wild animal whose fangs had sunk deep into muscle. Looking down, her green eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when she saw her charred, damaged skin which made her look like a dirty damaged anatomic doll for a science class. "What happened to me?!" was the foremost thought in her head. She didn't want to yell, she wanted to scream. She grabbed her right arm, ignoring the stinging pain, and began to clutch with all of her might, "This is a joke! What happened to my body, it's like I'm a half-roasted steak!"

The men outside seemed to focus on her behavior like they were studying some sort of specimen, which only served to infuriate her further. The subject of their interest was no doubt her freaky body, which she couldn't bear to look upon any longer. "Make it stop...!" she growled, "Make it stop!!" But no matter how much she insisted, the mask retained her fruitless attempt to communicate. The pain wasn't subsiding, and even more discomfort in the form of a tingle was beginning to surface. She looked down and gripped her forearm, scratching at it constantly, "Why won't it stop itching? It's... ahhh!" she freaked out as she noticed her blood oozing out from a self-inflicted wound. She made another attempt to call for help and pressed her palms against the glass, bearing through the great pain she was suffering. "Help!" she tried. This time though, the men outside appeared more than concerned. Some of them had even begun to panic and had run to gather with another one. Only one of them remained looking at her inside her gooey prison.

He was staring directly at her, standing firm, unwavering. He wasn't merely observing her, he was admiring her. She could somewhat tell that he was more than taken in by what was happening, but she still couldn't understand why. That's when she realized the bleeding in her forearm hadn't just stopped, but it had never really added to the pain. In fact, the blood outside didn't feel like it had come out of her body at all, as if it was simply some sort of slime floating inside the chamber with her. She looked at it for a bit, trying to figure out if she was actually hurting as much as she thought she was. From one moment to the next, she made the attempt to move her arms and legs and, even if the sight of the clingy ooze on her forearm upset her, her limbs did not hurt at all. "This... this isn't normal. What's going on...?! I'm... I'm itching again. It doesn't feel bad, but it feels weird, like I have ants crawling under my skin...!" The unpleasant thought only served to exacerbate her reaction when suddenly her other arm began to ooze, followed by her chest, her shoulders; everywhere she could and could not see. "No! What is this...?! It's... it's sticking to me! My blood's sticking to me?!"

Outside, Dr. Masters watched with a wry smile, "This is what I was afraid of. The melding process..."

"Doctor, her vitals have stabilized, but now she's exhibiting a rather strange symptom! I have never seen anything quite like it!" the medical aide reported, already monitoring the displays.

"Dr. Masters, what is happening?" questioned a bewildered Schmidt as he stared with equal disbelief, "Was the skin not supposed to instantly shed? Was the nutrient amount insufficient?!"

"Quite the contrary, Dr. Schmidt." Dr. Masters tilted his glasses with a somber look on his face, "It appears we were wrong. Her immune system was not trying to reject the Xteria. Her body is in fact absorbing it at a much faster rate than our projections indicated."

"But that can't be right! Our calculations were perfect...!" the aide shouted, "What's going to happen next?"

"She's... she's going to pupate," Dr. Masters indicated and then silence took over.

To Be Continued...