Stamos considered his options. He was stuck in a small corridor, sealed on either end by a blast door. The geneticists had managed to endow him with a superior musculoskeletal system. This was rather painful, however, and the pain made concentration difficult. But! He'd escaped! Thanks to the telescientist teleporting him out of nowhere (or at least, he assumed that's what happened), he had been let out of the reinforced walls of his dormitory cell.

The scientists hadn't seemed to bothered by the amount of pain they inflicted on him, or any other test subject, for that matter. All he'd wanted to do since arriving was escape. Then again, he hadn't exactly chosen to become a test subject, either. One night he'd gone to sleep in his house in Norwood, and the next morning he'd woken up here. The other test subjects had comforted him initially. Eventually, though, they drifted apart as Stamos grew more and more grotesque. Now even the other subjects were afraid of him. He blamed the last modification - they'd screwed with his vocal chords and receptors. Now, whenever he tried to talk, an unintelligible roar escaped his mouth. It even happened if he tried whispering. Some small comfort came to him when he thought of one thing - revenge.

The corridor was solid steel on either side. No doors or windows. A sign said: "To Trams", pointing behind him. Trams were good. Trams meant escape. Somehow he'd ran the wrong way. 

"Damnit," he tried to say. A fearsome roar escaped his mouth instead. Stamos still wasn't used to that.

What the hell, might as well see how strong he actually was. He took a running start and slammed his shoulder into the blast door. It shook. It dented. His shoulder throbbed. Finally, the door deformed enough for him to crawl underneath. Frowning, he stared at the meaty claws that were once his hands. Lost for a moment in reverie, his head snapped up when he heard voices.

Ahead was a T-intersection - forward lead to another sign saying "To Trams" (probably, anyway - the last experiment made him a bit nearsighted) and another closed blast door. To the right, where the voices were coming from, was a bubbling goo spill. That's where the voices were coming from. His hearing must have been enhanced, because he heard voices. Two of them were security, and it sounded like there was at least one scientist.

[i]Ah,[/i] he thought, [i]time for some more revenge.[/i]

"This won't hurt a bit," he tried to quip. He roared instead. Close enough.

His engorged feet pounded on the floor as he began walking, calmly, toward the supply closet.