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AU: They were sub-humans in the great controller's eyes. Being only marionettes in his master plan that housed broken souls and cracked mentality, they lived for one purpose and one purpose only: To create the perfect human-being.

Chapter One:
Aichmophobia - is a kind of specific phobia, the morbid fear of sharp things, such as pencils (like needles, knives, a pointing finger, or even the sharp end of an umbrella). It is derived from the Greek aichmē (point) and phobos (fear).

London, England - 1889

He looked upon the body with a childish glint in his blue eyes.

Some had claimed that his blue eyes could rival the sky in color. To him, they were ugly. They had reflected the guilt and many emotions he had locked away years ago. When he looked into a mirror, he could see the lock to those bottled away emotions start to jiggle. Though the man who had taken him in said they were gorgeous; he was not moved by it. He still hated his eyes. He despised every bit and piece about himself; from the cowlick on the top of his head to the beaten worn-out leather boots on his feet.

He kicked at the ground, the snow crunching under his boot. It was nearing Christmas, wasn't it? A bitter laugh escaped his life. Christmas day was the day he had escaped Hell. Christmas was his and his friend's celebration; it was basically the day the both of them had been reborn.

From something ugly, a thing of beauty can be reborn.

A crow cawed in the distance and an Owl hooted in return. His head snapped up and he sent a glance to the moon. It was full and nearly smothered by the colors of pink, red and orange that bled its colors across the sky like colored dye. It was obvious that dawn was approaching. It was time to make his escape.

XXXXX

Somewhere in England, 1875

He was bathed in bright light as it seemed; the painful rays of brightness stabbing his closed eyelids. He dared not to move in fear of disrupting the Scientist's work. In the world he lived in, he and all others had to obey the Scientist's very whim. If one was told never to move, they never moved. If one was told to not breathe, they would not breathe.

It was a game of survival. You had to obey at all costs – or the price would be your life.

Some had the choice of keeping their eyes closed while they underwent their testing; some had to have their eyes pried open if it was the whim of the scientist. He had been lucky; to receive the nice scientists instead of the horrific ones who caused pain for fun.

His breath hitched as his earlobe was pinned back. Stay silent, breath quietly. He told himself. This of all times was not the moment to hit the ceiling in fear.

Since he had arrived at his Hell on Earth, he had noticed that once a month on every third Thursday at exactly four p.m. on the dot, the prime Test Subjects of a certain section would undergo experiments that were twice as consolidated as their normal tests and undergo excruciating pain.

And with just his luck, he had become one of the unlucky bastards who had to go through with that.

Steel shackles bound him to the metal operation table he laid upon. Two leather belts crossed over his chest like an 'X' and rendered him immobile. His legs felt like lead. Two men were on either him; faces grim and gaunt in appearance and dressed in complete white.

He hated the color white.
It was absence of all color, the absence of all life. The polar opposite to black – the mixture of all colors; the mixture of all life.

"Which one is this one?" The man in white on his left asked. This man was defiantly new. He may be a sub-human in their eyes and in the all knowing eyes of the controller's eyes, but most knew who he was and those who did not could easily remember. In their exact words, he had "eyes to die for".

He may have liked his eyes thankyouverymuch, but not enough to die for them.

Yes, the man was new. He did not fit the description of his normal scientists. Older male, dark eyes, flattened nose, wrinkles around the mouth and eyes, and gray, thinning blond hair. There were three other men he was used to being his scientists. "Big Nose", "Pince-nez" and "Steve". Sure, he could easily ask the men for their names, but he never bothered too.

Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer had been the infamous quote many lived by in the facility.

"S-9182. But others call him Alfred." The other man on his right replied. Ah, Steve. Steve was been his favorite scientist of all. The man was the only one out of all of them to treat him as if he was an actual human being. The thought stung though. To them, to the controller and all others, he was nothing but a living, breathing test subject; used only when there was something to be tested and thrown away when it serves its purpose.

Did he not cry? Did he not smile? Did he not laugh in joy when that one French kid cracked perverted jokes to lighten the mood?

"Hey Steve," Alfred said, closing his eyes once more. He hated watching the pain that would flicker across Steve's face as his body twitched and spasmed when the drug he was testing finally kicked in. Each sector had certain drugs they had to test. The primary subjects received the strongest and most harmful ones while the other subjects received the weakest and painless ones.

Lucky Bastards.

"How long has this one been here?"

"Considering he's one of the prime subjects of the Strength Sector, it's a miracle of how he's survived here for so long. He arrived here when he was four, I believe and its been eight years. His date of birth is the Fourth of July, 1866 and he is from America. His name is Alfred F. Jones and is currently twelve years of age."

"Damn."

"That was my reaction too."

"Shall we begin then?"

"…Of course."

With that, Alfred knew to keep himself braced for the pain that would come soon. Sure, he had it easier than others. Where as Honda Kiku of the Mind Sector was forced to deal with the haunting, frightening, gruesome images that would scar the Japanese boy for all eternity. It was what he was forced to do to stay alive in this world. Alfred had it much, much easier – though it was still painful.

He was the Prime Subject of the Strength Sector. The sector pretty much consisted of him and him alone. His job was to test strength-boosting drugs such as steroids and human chorionic gonadotropin. He had to take on extreme doses of these drugs that would be hazardous and poisonous to a human of normal standards. To them, he was sub-human and was immune to this law in the Controller's eyes.

And with a deep breath, the pain had begun.

To say Ivan Braginsky's had a bad day would be an understatement. There were several reasons actually.

He hated his job for one.

He was a scientist for some whack job who wanted to create a perfect human being. He experimented on little children and transformed them into super freakizoid humans. Then when all the prime subjects had reached their limit, the Controller (it was what his boss wanted to be called) would all morph their DNA together and create the perfect human.

He really hadn't been paying attention when the guy had been explaining everything.

He hated his boss. The guy was way out of his league and was going to get himself brutally and painfully murdered by one of the children.

He hated most of the children there. Except for a few. A spare few. He hated all the rest.

He sighed.
Currently, he was in his room; face-down on the couch like the lazy bastard he was. He really wanted to just sleep, but the damn screams were keeping him awake.

Screams in German, screams in French, screams in Chinese, screams in Russian, screams in Belarusian, screams in Spanish. The monthly testing had begun.

Author's Notes:

Music: She is the New Thing – The Horrors
The Horror of Our Love – Ludo
Lord Abortion – Cradle of Filth
Falling inside the Black – Skillet

NOMNOMNOM. That is all. Hahaha.

The idea for this…story? Yeah we'll call it that for now. The idea for this story came from a dream of mine where a Russian girl was forced to become a test-subject in attempts to create the perfect human-being. She does not remember her real name and has no memories of her past except for a the blurry images of a man by the name of "Artie" and a girl named "Alasta". And there is the fact that she can see when people will die. When she was in the facility, her mentality cracked and she went insane and killed most of her inmates before the scientists attempted to sedate her. She was rescued by Eve Ellen, another man who could see the deaths of others and worked at the facility. Eve had given her a name: Alastor Crowdeclough. After years passed, Alastor had become a famous serial murderer who many thought was someone who had no emotions for how brutally the victims were killed. The detective Arthur Pendrowsky (who can never remember anyone's name) is put on the case and well, that's when shit really hits the fan.

Hehe.