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Piotr was trembling, Lucas tensing behind him. "The earliest records of your ancestors are from hundreds of years ago. Your people settled in major urban centers, passing as normal, typical humans. I mean, there are no aesthetic differences between you and a normal human, as far as Julius knew."
Aristotle clenched his fist.
The silence strained over all of them, abandoned in the cavern deep within the earth, like they were removed from the warm, familiar humanity above.
"The government," Piotr began. "It considers you to be of a different biology than human beings. You are a threat to the human race."
The cabin was dark - the only light trickled in from the prior cabin. Somehow, however, he didn't need the light. He didn't even need to think about where to swing the axe, about where to step, about when to duck: it was like he was on autopilot. His body moved fluidly, like he was a dancer. He never felt so free, so weightless in his life. As he dropkicked one of them, he began to feel anxious again. Who or what was moving his body like this? His own flesh seemed alien to him.
He was trapped in his own body. And he had no choice left but to keep fighting.