Leonard lifted his porcelain cup, savoring the warmth of black tea as it curled through his chest, a small comfort against the sterile chill of the lounge.
The metallic clink of the steel door sliced through the quiet, drawing his attention. He turned slowly, eyes settling on a young man striding purposefully across the polished floor—Jackson.
Jackson's presence filled the room with a restless energy. "You appear very calm, Leonard," he remarked, his voice a curious blend of composure and irritation that echoed off the lounge's cold walls.
The annoyance wasn't aimed at Leonard, but at the precarious situation enveloping them both. Their boss—the enigmatic leader behind clandestine experiments on pure bloods—had vanished on a so-called business trip, leaving the team adrift.
Leonard's lips twitched in a silent scoff. The idea of their boss abandoning them for routine matters seemed laughable; more likely, they were being set up as scapegoats. Rumors had swirled like smoke about a group targeting experimental sites, striking with ruthless precision.
Jackson's comment made sense, given the tension thickening the air.
Yet Leonard chose to push aside these troubling thoughts, letting the tea's warmth soothe his nerves as he took another measured sip.
Jackson raised an eyebrow, puzzled by Leonard's apparent tranquility.
Before Jackson could voice his confusion, Leonard spoke, his tone steady and reassuring.
"Why are you so stressed, Jackson? This place is a black site known only to the higher-ups."
"It would take considerable time and resources for anyone to find us, let alone breach our defenses. And why go through all that trouble just for some pure bloods?"
Jackson mulled over Leonard's words, the logic sinking in.
Anyone attacking this base would gain nothing substantial.
By the time they breached the defenses, any valuable documents would be long gone.
Even if their intentions were noble, they'd likely release the staff to avoid political backlash from Mushroom City or angering powerful multimillionaires with vested interests in the law.
On the slim chance they weren't released, a brief stint in jail would likely end with freedom due to lack of evidence.
Confidence flickered in Jackson's eyes. He smiled, thanked Leonard for the reassurance, and headed back toward the steel door.
The reason he'd come to the lounge slipped from his mind like a child distracted by play. He scanned his ID and exited, leaving Leonard to finish his tea with a satisfied smile.
Rising from his chair, Leonard felt certain in his reasoning and the precautions he'd taken. He strode toward the steel door, convinced no agency or company would dare attack this black site.
And if they did, erasing the hard drives containing experiment data would ensure his freedom.
….
Footsteps echoed down the stark hallway as Barn spotted Leonard approaching section D1. With a mischievous grin, Barn tiptoed closer, hoping to give Leonard a good scare. Everyone knew Leonard was particularly jumpy about the recent rumors.
Barn, ever the prankster, was eager to lighten the mood, especially since Leonard had spread tales about him going mad after hearing whispers near section D1.
But before Barn could pounce, Leonard spoke calmly, his voice cutting through the silence.
"Having fun, are you, Barn?"
Barn froze, arms half-raised, then stepped beside Leonard with a sheepish sigh.
"How did you know it was me?"
Barn asked, bewildered. He was sure he'd been silent, though a few squeaks might have escaped.
Leonard laughed heartily, wiping tears from his eyes. Glancing at Barn's unruly beard, messy brown hair, and round belly, he chuckled again.
"I couldn't hear your footsteps, but your breathing gave you away."
Barn blinked, taken aback. He knew he was hefty, but not to the point where his breathing was audible from afar.
Before he could retort, Leonard continued teasing.
"For someone your size, you're surprisingly stealthy. You'd make a great assassin if it weren't for your pig-like breathing. Did you really think I wouldn't notice? You're probably the only person who burns calories sneaking up on someone."
Leonard laughed until his sides ached, glancing at Barn's defeated expression.
Approaching the steel door, he swiped his ID card and entered, struggling to maintain a straight face amidst the room full of similarly rotund colleagues.
Inside, Leonard greeted the other scientists and lab data holders as the steel door sealed shut behind him.
Break time was over. He moved to the one-sided glass, peering into the chamber beyond.
The view was obscured by fog—a chemical mist designed to keep the beast sedated during experiments.
It was one of many safety measures in place, alongside buttons, computers, and monitors displaying the creature's vital signs.
For tasks requiring physical interaction, personnel had to pass through a cleansing chamber—a high-tech silver door equipped with AI components, ensuring containment in case of emergencies. If things went awry, those inside might be left behind.
But such incidents were rare. The beast lacked consciousness, unable to speak or eat without assistance.
The steel door opened again, revealing Mark Oliver, their sleep-deprived head scientist and supervisor.
Driven by money, Mark was perfect for overseeing the operation, loyal as long as the incentives flowed.
Everyone in the lab had their own reasons for being there—some lacked even the most basic scholarly credentials, yet all were drawn by the same irresistible lure: wealth. Experimenting on pure bloods was dangerous, but the rewards were lavish enough to silence any doubts.
Leonard snapped out of his reverie as Mark entered, his presence commanding immediate attention.
Leonard bowed quickly, prompting the others to follow suit in a ripple of nervous respect. With seven figures gathered beneath the harsh fluorescent lights, today's experiment was set to begin.
Mark's voice cut through the tension, crisp and authoritative. Leonard moved to the back, joining another data holder at the control panel.
Their fingers danced over keys, inputting passwords and pressing buttons in a practiced sequence.
The ventilation system hummed to life, drawing the chemical fog from the chamber.
Within minutes, the haze thinned and peeled away, revealing the laboratory in stark, clinical detail.
Stainless steel counters gleamed under the lights; glass vials glinted like shards of ice. Leonard flipped open his clipboard, eyes scanning the day's protocol with the calm precision of a seasoned professional.
But before he could speak, a scream tore through the sterile silence—a raw, animal sound that ended abruptly with a heavy, sickening thud.
Leonard's heart lurched. He recognized the voice instantly. Instinctively, he turned toward Mark, seeking direction.
What he saw rooted him to the spot.
Mark stood frozen, not merely startled but utterly petrified, his face drained of color. Leonard's gaze followed Mark's trembling stare to the reinforced glass dome at the center of the room—the beast's enclosure.
Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
For years, Leonard had observed the creature behind that one-way mirror, always feeling a safe distance between them.
But now, for the first time, he felt the weight of its gaze pressing back—intense, sentient, and unyielding.
The beast squinted what remained of its eyebrows and flesh, black hair hanging in greasy, tangled strands that veiled much of its mutilated face.
Its eyes, once an icy blue, now burned a menacing crimson, glowing with unnatural light.
They seemed to pierce straight through the glass, locking onto Leonard with chilling clarity.
A cold sweat prickled across Leonard's brow. When had its eyes changed?
And why did its outline seem to shimmer and blur, as if it were a living shadow barely contained by its prison?
Then, slowly, deliberately, the creature tilted its head at an impossible angle.
Its ruined lips twisted into a grotesque parody of a smile, exposing jagged teeth and torn flesh—a smile meant only for Leonard.
He stood transfixed, every muscle rigid, as the realization crashed over him: the beast was looking directly at him, and behind those crimson eyes flickered a malevolent intelligence that chilled him to the bone.