"This might pinch a little," she said.

He wasn't sure how he had agreed to all this. He had been talked into it a little too quickly. Was he trying to impress her? Was he trying to get her attention?

"That was a needle. I think you meant a prick or stick, Dr. Corlinn," he said.

She stopped and looked at him. She was breathtaking, but now she appeared very annoyed with him, and this was not the gaze of attention he had sought out from her.

"Dr. Hadish, I do know what I am doing," she said.

"Of course, Doctor. I didn't mean anything other than to make some small talk."

"That will not be an issue much longer."

Indeed, he did feel his mouth go numb. A shot in the arm was surprisingly making it hard to talk, almost as if he was at the dentist's and had just been given a shot in the gums.

"Aahh, thah mawy oher ehects?"

"What did you say, Dr Hadish? Are there any other side effects?"

He nodded.

"There are a few," she continued. I don't want it to sound like one of those ads the marketing people dream up—all fine print and speedy voice—but there are some."

He looked at her expectantly. His tongue was done.

"Oh, you want me to list them?"

He nodded.

"Your tongue might get sluggish."

He nodded. It felt like he had a shoe shoved in his mouth.

"Your skin might feel prickly."

His eyes went wide. He felt like he was on fire. Waves of heat rolled across his body like he was twirling in a rotisserie oven.

"Some report an odd sensation in their hair."

If his eyes could widen out further, they would have. Instead, they jumped out of their socket, slapped his face, and then jumped back in their sockets. Or so it seemed as he felt his hair, every hair from his head to his crotch, push out and grow from the inside like it was in some sped-up time-lapse movie. It couldn't possibly be happening, his taxed brain told him. It also told him he could just run. Not that it would help. But he just wanted to run.

"Here, sit down," she said. She guided him to the chair. "The sensations for the first moments can be pretty intense."

Pretty intense? His brain was screaming.

"But it usually wears off after those first moments. Usually in about ten minutes. Now, let me take a look at you."

He tried to act nonchalant as she approached, but his mind was a spinning amusement ride, and he just wanted to get off.

The toxins wafted from the beaker. He knew better, but he lowered his mask and inhaled deeply with a small smile. Anyone looking would be reminded of an old grandfather pouring over a pot of stew, tasting it before serving to his family. One taste of this soup, though, and anyone would drop dead.

Which is exactly what he intended to happen.

“Lance! Mary!” He called his partners from the nearby rooms. Together, they had spent the last three years together, forming and testing hypotheses on the efficacy of a new drug. In its final stages now, he needed just one more thing to truly make it all come together …

“What’s up, Dr.?” Lance asked, entering the room with Mary.

“The vial has the drug,” he said, pointing to it. A small stream of smoke issued from the cork. “We just need to test it.”

“I’ll get the mice,” Mary said, turning.

The Dr. pressed a button and the door slammed shut. He pressed another, and it locked.

Mary turned. “You did that?”

“We don’t need mice,” the Dr. nodded. “We need to test on our target audience now.”

Lance looked at Mary and back at the Dr. “Target audience? Humans?”

With a slim smile, the Dr. nodded and drew a syringe from his coat. “So you understand?”

His partners contributed more to the release of the drug than they ever thought possible, but sadly were not able to be there as he collected all of the accolades.

Clementine set up the camera in front of her latest subject, Maxine, who sat patiently in their chair. Clementine had gone mad and it’s trying to find the cure to th newest disease. Almost like yellow fever, but with a few more symptoms, the disease involved a multistep process of getting sick. However, to catch the cold is far too easy. She needed to help mankind, she said to any who believed she was crazy. She wanted to fine anything or anyone who would be “willing” to sacrifice themselves.

“Clem?” Maxine spoke.

“Are we getting started now?”

Clementine cleared her throat and began to talk.

“Today is August 28, 2024. I have with me Maxine Milwood.” Clementine said to the camera.

“Mrs. Millwood, I would advise you to take this seriously. State your date of birth and occupation.”

Maxine a little more serious than before, stated that information, but she sat up straight and placed her hands in her lap. She was also, like the others, scared for Clementine's mental health, and wanted to help her get out over this as quickly as she could. Even if that meant getting into something dangerous, something she had no business seeing.

"Okay, Mrs. Millwood, I'm going to be seeing if this is the cure." Clementine said, holding a needle with a purple liquid inside.

"Could we...um...try something else? You know how much I hate needles." Maxine responded.

Clementine tapped the needle as she shook her head. She held Maxine's shoulder and rolled up her sleeve. Maxine turned away as she pushed the needle into her flesh, piercing her skin. She pushed the top of the needle down to release the liquid into her bloodstream. Maxine's fingers started to go numb then the rest followed. She turned to find the needle on the counter, half full. Suddenly, her neck fell back, she tried to pick it up, but it was like something was holding it down. Her weight became heavy.She was praying her mouth open to let out words, only a few, but to no avail. She felt things, but her skin was sensitive to the touch. She felt hands press up against the back of her head, pushing it up. Her head fell forward, making her get a jittery feeling in her neck. Clementine walked to the front of the chair and crouched down, getting on her eye level.

“Sorry, I couldn’t have you running away.” She said.

Maxine wanted to run, but her muscles were smooth and that wasn’t reversible. Clementine laughed, pulling a sharp scalpel to her neck. Was she going to kill her? No. Never in a million years would she be so greedy. She grabbed onto her collar and started to cut her shirt. It tore like paper, and so did everything else.

“I’m guessing these were cheap.” Clementine said to herself.

Maxine was helpless, naked and seen, like little lambs being slaughtered. She wasn’t safe, but had not way to be safe. Clementine then took out a black marker and dottie lines across her stomach. Surgery? No.

"This is for your safety and mankind. You're infected, Stage Three." She stated.

Maxine's eyes widened. She couldn't be infected.. It wasn't possible. Maxine's stomach moved She saw it. And so did Clementine. Clementine began to cut her Maxine's outer layer It moved again. She cut again, blood leaking onto the floor. Maxine couldn't scream, she couldn't feel. She just watched. They both watched. It dropped to the floor. It was mushy, loud, and crying. They both watched. Maxine wanted to scream. Clementine wanted to smile.

“We’re spending too much money on tedt animals,” he stated again. “We need an alternative.”

“And what would that be? Ourselves?!” exclaimed Trish. Usually he hated just about everything that came out of Trish’s mouth, but this was actually a good idea.

“Why not?” He asked, not even half joking. Everyone just looked at him blankly. Then the conversation continued. He stopped listening.

He had played around with ideas in his head, loosely of course. But now it was stuck in there. He didn’t want the lab to get shut down, but between the bloated budget and the fact that he really hated testing on animals…human subjects were the best anyway right?

He was working on some serious research that could cure ailments that had plagued mankind for centuries! Skin conditions, warts, men’s hair loss! Not cancer though, there was no money in that, other people were working on that, how boring for them.

What if he could inject them with the serums sereptisiously? If things went wrong they could keep people here in the facility for observation. And it would be so easy to observe the reactions.

He was getting obsessed with the idea. He could cut his budget in half and move right to human trials! Surely that would be fine, it’s not like his serums had caused any really harmful effects, other than that one bunny who went bald immediately. That wasn’t a concern.

,

Dr. Elizabeth Warren stood before the mirror, her hands trembling as she splashed cold water onto her face. The fluorescent lights in the lab’s restroom flickered ominously. She looked up, half-expecting to see someone else’s face staring back. But it was just her, weary and pale. She hadn’t slept well in weeks, plagued by strange dreams of blood and twisted bodies, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong in the lab.

Elizabeth was one of the lead researchers in the prestigious New Life Laboratories, a cutting-edge biotech firm focused on unlocking the secrets of human longevity. The team had made incredible progress under the direction of Dr. Victor Stroud, a genius whose work had won him accolades and fame. But lately, something about Victor had changed. His focus had shifted from their collective goal to something more personal, more secretive.

She’d been working closely with Victor for years. At first, she admired his passion, his relentless drive. But now, that drive felt more like obsession. He’d become distant, curt, and—most alarmingly—paranoid. Files went missing. Data was encrypted beyond what was necessary. And then, there were the “side projects,” as he called them, which he insisted were vital to their research, but which he refused to discuss in detail.

Elizabeth dried her hands and left the restroom, her steps echoing in the empty hallway. Most of the team had gone home, but she knew Victor was still in his private lab. He’d been spending more and more time there, locking himself away for hours, sometimes days. She approached the door to his lab, hesitating before knocking.

There was no answer.

She knew he was inside. She could hear the hum of machines, the soft beeping of monitors. Driven by a gnawing sense of unease, Elizabeth swiped her access card, surprised when the door clicked open without resistance.

The lab was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the screens of several computers. At the center of the room stood a glass chamber, large enough to hold a person. The chamber was empty, but what caught Elizabeth’s attention was the thick, dark liquid pooled at its base.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she stepped further into the room. On one of the monitors, she saw a series of video files, each labeled with a colleague’s name. Her stomach churned as she recognized the names: Dr. Harrison, Dr. Patel, Dr. Lin—all brilliant scientists who had been part of the team, but had recently taken extended leaves of absence due to “health issues.”

With shaking hands, she clicked on the first file. The screen filled with an image of Dr. Harrison, strapped to a chair inside the chamber, his face contorted in pain. Victor’s voice, calm and clinical, narrated the experiment.

“Subject exhibits increased metabolic rate. The serum is reacting more aggressively than anticipated. Vital signs are unstable...”

Elizabeth’s breath caught in her throat as she watched Dr. Harrison convulse, his skin paling, his eyes rolling back. The video cut off abruptly, leaving Elizabeth staring at a blank screen.

She felt sick. Victor had been using their colleagues as test subjects, injecting them with an untested serum—a serum that, if successful, could theoretically halt aging. But it was clear from the videos that it was far from perfected. Instead of immortality, it brought agony and death.

“Elizabeth,” a voice said from behind her.

She spun around, her heart racing. Victor stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable.

“What have you done?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“I’ve done what needed to be done,” Victor replied, stepping into the room. “You’ve seen the data. We were so close. But animal models weren’t enough. We needed human subjects to push this to the next level.”

“You... you killed them,” Elizabeth stammered, backing away from him. “Harrison, Patel, Lin... They were our friends!”

“They were scientists,” Victor said coldly, “and they understood the risks. We all do. This is the price of progress, Elizabeth. And thanks to them, I’ve nearly perfected the serum.”

“You’re insane,” she whispered. “This isn’t science. This is murder.”

Victor’s eyes narrowed. “It’s necessary. We stand on the brink of a new era, one where death is no longer an inevitability. But to get there, sacrifices must be made.”

Elizabeth shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes. “I can’t let you do this. I won’t let you hurt anyone else.”

Victor sighed, as if disappointed. “I was hoping you’d understand. I didn’t want to have to do this.”

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a syringe, filled with a glowing green liquid. Elizabeth’s eyes widened in fear as she recognized the serum.

“No, please—” she began, but Victor was already moving.

In one swift motion, he grabbed her arm, the syringe plunging into her skin. The serum burned as it entered her bloodstream, a searing pain spreading through her veins. She collapsed to the floor, her vision blurring.

Victor knelt beside her, his voice distant as the pain overwhelmed her. “You’ll be the first to receive the perfected serum, Elizabeth. Consider it an honor. If you survive, you’ll understand. You’ll see what I see.”

The last thing she saw before darkness claimed her was Victor’s face, serene and focused, as he watched her slip away.

When Elizabeth awoke, she was inside the glass chamber, her body weak but alive. The pain had subsided, leaving her feeling strangely numb. Victor stood outside, watching her intently.

“You survived,” he said, almost in awe. “Remarkable. Your vitals are stable. The serum... it worked.”

Elizabeth looked down at her hands, which felt unfamiliar, as if they belonged to someone else. Her mind was foggy, memories of the past few days blurred and fragmented. But one thing was clear: Victor had succeeded in his experiment. But at what cost?

She glanced up at him, seeing now not the brilliant scientist she once admired, but a monster. A monster who would stop at nothing in his quest for immortality, even if it meant sacrificing everyone around him.

“You’ll thank me one day,” Victor said softly, his voice filled with conviction. “Together, we’ve made history.”

But as Elizabeth stared at him through the glass, she felt only emptiness, her soul as cold as the sterile lab around her.

Epilogue

Victor Stroud continued his work, emboldened by Elizabeth’s survival. But the lab was never the same. The once-lively hallways grew silent as more of his colleagues disappeared, each becoming another footnote in his twisted experiments.

And Elizabeth? She remained by his side, her memories fractured, her will broken. A living testament to the cost of immortality—a cost that could never be measured in years, but only in lives lost to one man’s mad ambition.

She was an odd one, really. It wasn’t hard to bribe her. The innocence tightly woven into her eyes was easy to spot. It was like a clear pressure point in her demeanor; a perfect description of who she was. It wasn’t long until she told me her name: Martha. Martha Hearts. If it weren’t for my research, I would’ve kept her around for a while. But alas, all good things must come to an end. Just as she would. “Research has been going well, lately.” She grins, placing the test tube—sloshing with a thick neon liquid—onto the carrier. It’d reached that time of evening where the rest of the unpaid staff of Sapphire Industries would reside to cheap cups of coffee and their own wallowing despair. “All thanks to you,” I chuckle, slipping my gloves off with ease. This is my chance. “So…” Martha shrugs her coat off with a pinch of red on her cheeks. “Are you free for coffee after this?” Goodness, I almost feel bad for her. “Ah, I don’t think so,” I fabricate an apologetic expression, glancing down at my watch. “I’m staying for another hour.” Hopefully that would lure her. “I could stay,” She pushes back a strand of strawberry blond hair. “I have nothing else to do this afternoon.” “I don’t see why not.” I smile softly, heading towards the boiler room. Martha’s perfectly drawn brows knit together. “What do you need from there?” But thankfully, her footsteps follow mine into the wide space. The walls thrummed with life, light dimming as we enter. The room has been transformed into my sanctuary of research. A network of water-filled tanks and tables filled with papers of my own filed research. “What—?” Martha’s eyes widen, voice stunned as the door automatically slams shut behind. The ambient beep of of the padlock seals her fate. I ready a syringe. “You’ve received a great honor, Martha.” “What honor?” The words had now reached a terrifying pitch. “You will be my very first test subject for my research: Project Omen.” An electrifying discovery of a power source far powerful than any gamma ray. A sour ace that could be utilized for good. “Wait—“ I swing forward, letting the needle sink into the skin of her neck with the swiftness of a viper lashing onto its prey. She lets out a muffled scream of horror as I muzzle her face with a clamp of my hand. She goes limp against the cool, glossy tiles. Sighing, I head towards the control panel of the water tank, flipping the switch. For a year, it would be Martha’s new home. I let a slight smile curve along my lips.

martha

Oh how I love to play the innocent damsel. The clueless doe tramping through the night. I loved the expression drawn onto his face when he thought he had me all figured out. As if I were a child’s game. The damn syringe was a fake. I’d been down to this hellhole millions of times, burning piles of his research to the ground. He drags my body along the tiles. Towards the tank. Cracking an eye open, I scan the room, searching for the knife I’d hidden amongst the frayed piles of paper. He abandons me for the switch, watching silently as the tank thrums with life. With his back partially turned, I take a small breath, hoisting myself onto a nearby desktop. My hand finds the blade, fingers hungry for the feel of cool steel against it. “You really outdid yourself.” I smirk. He startles, head whipping back to find me rested against the wall, twirling the weapon hypnotically between my fingers. “What?” His voice is penetrated by shock. “The hell—?” I near him, watching my reflection dance across the tiles. “You were easy to corner. It’s surprising what playing pretend can do for you.” I murmur. He trembles for a moment, bluster and bravado gone. “You have ten seconds,” I whisper gently. “to run.” Quaking, he bolts down the room, towards the exit. Grinning, I follow in suite. I move like a knife through butter between the tables, aiming my knife towards the center of his back. I toss it, watching as it pierces his flesh with a spray of blood. He roars in pain, falling against a desktop. “It’s sad, really,” I sigh. “All you had to do was be good.” “Please—“ He begs, petrified. “Have mercy—“ I laugh. “Did you have mercy on your other ‘test subjects?’” Silence. With a final beat of quietude, I jab the knife down his chest, letting a flood of red dominate my vision.

5 minutes later

I tread down the parking lot, leaving the laboratory engulfed in flames behind me as I tug a cigarette from my bag. I smile. “A minute to spare for some coffee.”

Hmmm you’d make a good test subject.

What, Professor, me??

Writing the eight:

||:}========{:||

Don’t like herbal tea Too bitter and plant-y It might grow but it won’t grow on me I say ban it like some old king’s decree It’s useless don’t you see

I hate the taste of ketchup Defiled tomatoes. Stored in a glass cup Like the blood of past deeds, poison comes up And bites on my tongue, makes me gag and hiccup

I despise vegetables They tear me up with mandibles After uprooted they’re only good for candles

I scour spices They always run out with high prices

And I never have enough thyme

||:}========{:||

One two three, Three weeks gone, Three weeks flew, Time fucking flies, The kind of flies you want to swat, Want to kill, Evading the grasp of your hand, Flying through the air, Feebly attempting to defy fate, Deny the inevitable, But as your hand flies so do the flies, Thus creating the inevitable dance that is time, Was your hand that of a clock? Will you ever know? Ever stop?

||:}========{:||

HEY GANG, its Eva, finally with access to the account lmao 🤓☝️

Why does it always attack Why can’t I ever fight back It always takes me over Pulling my heart to the floor

Feeling empty and sad But really there’s nothing bad It’s still just pulls me down why would a reason be needed

Dragged to the floor Happiness always stored My heart always frowning Sad and lost and lonely

I hate this thing that is me As messed up as can be Nothing smart in its head A shame and bother to everyone

My heart is always crying My brain is always dying My body gives up And again in lost in darkness

Eccentric is a nice way of putting it. Many of us would call her crazy, or insane. As for the two lab partners that went “missing”, I would say she is lethal. The way she acts seems as if she would never hurt a fly. She seems so wrapped up in her ideas that she couldn’t focus on hurting someone. But that’s just it. In her eyes, she is just testing out a theory. In reality, she is killing people without realizing it.