I sat across from the man, looking him up and down. There was an IV of saline and sedative in his left arm. He was firmly cuffed to the metal table, which was bolted to the floor, with a basket muzzle tight around his bloody jaw. A guard stood at the door, hands firmly on their weapon.

The man in front of me was deathly pale, despite having a light brown skin tone, and covered in vibrant red blood that somehow still wasn’t dry. He wore a sleeveless white shirt fastened at the side with white snaps, slim white pants that fell to his knees, and white shoes and socks; all, of course, stained with blood and dirt. His hair was white and in need of a trim, still damp from the rain and hanging in front of his muzzled face. The entirety of his right arm was formed out of silver metal, with blue tendons that slightly glowed under the metal plates, although it was hard to see in the brightness of the small, concrete room. The same strange metal plated his left knee and shin and the back of his left ear.

The back of his wolf ear. Two white canine ears sat on top of his head, fur merging with hair, twisting and shifting at each little sound that echoed in the concrete room. I could faintly hear his white tail shifting against his clothing and the metal chair.

He was examining me closely as I examined him. His eyes were a bright icy blue, and just as cold, appearing to glow like the tendons in his metal arm. He eyed the black lanyard around my neck.

“Good day, EW-54,” I focused on him. “My name is Doctor Calvin Davidson. I’m a scientist here at the EW Federation, and have been assigned to be your primary doctor during your time here.” I looked at the preliminary file on my tablet, specifically at the recovery section at the top. “Says here that you were found in a rural part of Sweden, just a few hours ago. You… attacked the patrol team, killing two and injuring the other three before being tranquilized. Not that it did much,” I eyed the IV of saline and sedative that kept him docile. Barely. I looked at the guard expectantly, “Muzzle off. He needs to talk.”

The guard paused, then stepped forward and undid the muzzle.

EW-54 burst to life within a millisecond. He began snapping and pulling at the restraints, trying to bite at the guard, who hit him in the head with the butt of their gun. I internally winced at the sound and the sudden snap of EW-54’s head. That seemed to stun him just enough, although the sedative probably helped.

EW-54 slammed the table in anger, flesh knuckles turning white, chest heaving with seething breaths. He pinned his ears back, twitching and keeping his gaze away from me.

“I need to ask you some questions,” I told him. I could feel my heart pounding against my breastbone. “First of all, do you have a name? Calling people by numbers isn’t exactly something we encourage here at the EW Federation.”

54 didn’t move, but glanced towards the water pitchers and glasses that sat on the small table along the far wall.

“You want some water?” I confirmed.

After a moment’s hesitation, he nodded.

I hesitated for a moment, but the brief look of pain and fear in his eyes, as well as the slight grumble of his stomach, sold me. I stood up to pour him a glass of water. I set it in front of him, quickly pulling back when he bared his teeth. His very sharp teeth.

I sat back in my chair across from him. “So, a name?”

He paused, focusing on the water, although he didn’t touch it.

And then it began floating. Little droplets of water lifted out of the glass and slowly began forming something. EW-54 seemed to be focusing intensely, using every bit of diminished strength he had.

“You’re hydrokinetic,” I breathed, staring.

The letters formed a word for a split second, then dropped back down, splashing all over the table. EW-54 doubled over, ears pinned back and teeth clenched, ever so softly whimpering.

I softly said the word he had written, “Ice?” When he softly gasped, I said, “Is that your name? Ice?” When he nodded, I leaned back and nodded in satisfaction and wrote it into the file, “Okay, well, this is a start, thank you. That’s certainly a unique name.”

He didn’t respond, didn’t move besides the occasional twitch of the ear. Every so often, one of his metal fingers jerked and twitched, although he tried to hide it.

“Where are you from, Ice?” I asked, preparing to take notes on my tablet.

He glanced up at me, head tilted in curiosity, but said nothing.

After a few moments, I asked, “What were you doing in rural Sweden, assuming you aren’t from there? You look like you haven’t slept or eaten in some time. Not to mention… all… that,” I motioned to his blood-covered clothing. “Mind telling me what happened?”

A smirk pulled at his lips. “Like it? I’d be happy to add yours.”

Beside the door, the guard stiffened and readied their weapon.

I blinked, breathing slowly and hoping he couldn’t hear my heart. “Some choice of first words. Well, if you won’t tell me, I’ll take a wild guess. Someone, probably scientists, replaced your arm and plated your ear and shin with that metal, whatever it is. You somehow escaped, likely killing a bunch of people in the process, only to come across the patrol team. You got scared, started fighting, and ended up killing two agents. And now you’re here, surrounded by more scientists. Am I right?”

The room was silent if not for his heavy breathing. His head was lowered, and his ears twitched. His hands were clenched into fists and his jaw was set.

“I’m going to take that as a yes.” I prepared for the next step, opening up the masterlist. “Let’s move on from that, shall we? I’m going to show you a series of photos and a few short videos, and I want you to tell me ‒ doesn’t have to be with words ‒ if you recognize the object or person in any way.”

After a few moments of no response, I showed him EW-1.

Ice didn’t look at the picture at first, but, when he glanced down at it, his eyes widened. I swiped, showing him the video of EW-1 flying at high speeds, then the x-rays of the wings. Ice let out a breath, brows upturned. His tensed muscles relaxed.

“You recognize him,” I softly said, less as a question and more as a statement. I held up one finger, “One finger for species, two for a personal relationship. Can you do that, Ice?”

Ice hesitantly nodded, then held up two fingers.

“What’s his name?”

He looked up at me in confusion.

I explained, “When we found him back in the 1890s, he had a large gash on his head, giving him complete retrograde amnesia. So, please, what’s his name? We’ve been calling him One or Angel for over a century now.”

Ice hesitated, looking hurt and painfully betrayed.

Finally, he mumbled, “Michael.”

I froze, certain I had misheard. “Michael? Like…. As in Saint Michael? Michael the archangel? The great prince of the heavens, God’s greatest warrior, Michael?” I leaned back in shock, when Ice nodded. He seemed disturbed by my words, and was focusing on the pictures of EW-1.

The loving amnesiac man with four white wings was an archangel. It was hard to comprehend. Saint Michael was said to be Heaven’s greatest warrior, the strongest of the archangels and God’s highest angel. And apparently he was an absolute dork who pouted when he couldn’t sit in the rafters.

In his chair, Ice looked painfully heartbroken, ears pinned back and memories flashing behind his blue irises.

I leaned forward, taking a breath and lowering my voice, “Ice, whoever he was back then, it’s not who he is now.” I took the tablet back. He quickly hid his pain with anger. “The Michael as you knew him is gone. I’m sorry. Now, please, let’s continue.”

I showed him EW-2. He shook his head, not recognizing it.

He seemed confused at the few blurry images of EW-3.

When I showed him EW-7, his breath caught in his throat. He slowly and hesitantly swiped through the pictures and short videos, blue eyes wide with horror and anger.

“Was that your home?” I softly asked. “Are you from there?”

Ice turned away, breathing slow and steady, as though he was having difficulty controlling it. He muttered, “...Winter Alliance.”

“Winter Alliance,” I slowly nodded. “Are you from there?”

Ice didn’t respond in any way. I moved on, showing him photos and occasional videos of each EW currently in containment. He only showed a reaction when we got to EW-30. His ears twitched, his breathing quickened, and he clenched his fists tight. He tried to look away from the picture.

“Do you recognize her?” I asked.

After a few moments, Ice relaxed and dully said, “No.”

My brows furrowed, “You sure about that?”

He slowly nodded.

I had my doubts, but kept going.

He only reacted again when we got to EW-39. He carefully watched the few videos of the boy using his weak hydrokinetic abilities, and inspected the photos of the sixteen-year-old and his crystal heart.

“Gemheart,” Ice softly uttered. There was a touch of worry in his cold eyes.

“He’s being well taken care of,” I promised.

Ice squinted his eyes in doubt, but allowed me to continue with the overlap testing. He reacted to EW-41, mumbling something about a polterghoul before motioning for me to continue. He seemed vaguely interested in EW-53, but otherwise appeared both bored and offended out of his mind. It was shocking he hadn’t lashed out and tried to bite me or the guard, or attempted to rip himself from the restraints. He actually seemed rather calm, given the circumstances.

I closed the cover to my tablet, deeply sighing, “Now comes the part of this job I never look forward to; I have to perform a small physical examination, especially of your… cybernetic appendage.” I motioned to his arm.

He didn’t acknowledge my words, save for a small ear twitch.

I slowly stood up, once again praying he couldn’t hear my pounding heart. I slowly approached him around the table, reaching out to check his pulse. He let me, keeping his head lowered and his eyes averted, taking deep, slow breaths. His pulse was surprisingly fast. It quickly calmed.

He grabbed my wrist.

He pulled me close.

My scream echoed off the walls.

Blood spurted from the wound, staining my white shirt.

The guard ripped me away, once again hitting Ice with the butt of their gun as I backed away. I hit the wall, doubling over, holding my bloody forearm close. I couldn’t breathe.

“Doctor!” Another guard had entered the room, and was trying to pull me out.

I glared at EW-54. He was smirking, leaning back in his chair and licking the blood off his lips.

I breathlessly growled, “You’re not the first dog I’ve been bitten by.”

I was just able to see his frown right before being pulled out of the room.