Spike woke up when booted feet drew near his cell. The soldiers bypassed him, though, to enter the latest victim’s cell and he felt a passing sympathy for the poor bugger, knowing what he had to look forward to – a day of being poked and prodded, samples of skin, hair, and blood taken for further study – before the real fun was due to begin.
He wanted a cigarette since it would give him something to do to relieve the boredom. But, like his clothes, they’d been picked through and discarded.
The gasp of pain, when it came, was overly loud in his ears. Then there was a bit of fumbling to get the prisoner secured to the stretcher now being brought into the room next door. A minute later, it was being wheeled out, and Spike’s eyes widened on seeing what – or rather who – it was.
Slayer’s gonna be mighty pissed when she finds out.
Just when he thought to wonder why the military goons were experimenting on humans, Miss Head Mad Scientist – as he’d snarkily dubbed her – appeared on the small television screen.
“Ah… Hostile 17. Good morning.”
Spike snorted and rolled his eyes. “Spare me the false pleasantries, Bitch. What do you want?”
“I see we’re going to have to work on your manners.”
Spike laughed outright. “I’m a bloody demon. What the fuck do I need manners for?”
Spike stood up and glared at the woman, unmindful of his nudity. His attitude was getting under her skin and he’d doubtless pay for it later, but in his mind, it was totally worth it.
He watched as she pushed a button on the console in front of her, heard her snap out, “Agent Finn!”
The small convoy outside stopped just past his cell and Spike could have groaned when the soldiers walked away from the stretcher and headed towards him. The expressions on their faces guaranteed he was in for a world of pain.