[The Laboratory]
The laboratory was dim, a blend of clinical sterility and unsettling darkness.
Thick steel walls reflected the cold white glow of flickering fluorescent lights, while the hum of machines filled the silence.
Behind a reinforced glass partition, Dr. Stylish stood, his hands clasped behind his back, observing intently.
His lab coat was pristine, untouched by the chaos that often accompanied his experiments.
His assistant, wearing a pale uniform stained with traces of past failures, prepared the child for the procedure.
The three-year-old sat unconscious, a frail body dwarfed by the metal chair he was strapped to.
Wires and sensors were fixed to his skin, their small lights blinking with eerie precision.
Dr. Stylish's lips curled into a smile as he leaned forward. His reflection on the glass revealed his eyes gleaming with anticipation.
"Let's see how long this one lasts before it... bursts."
The thought filled him with sadistic glee. He nodded when his assistant signaled for permission to inject the serum, an unspoken command to proceed.
The assistant's hands moved deftly, the syringe filled with a crimson liquid that shimmered unnaturally.
The serum, derived from the blood of the Hydra, the most fearsome regenerative Danger Beast, was both a marvel and a monstrosity.
The needle pierced the child's arm, and Dr. Stylish's gaze dropped to the monitor beneath the glass partition.
The child's vital signs were displayed in real-time, the heart rate steady even as the serum began its invasive work.
Ten seconds passed.
The child's injuries from previous experiments began to heal, the skin knitting together with startling speed. Stylish's grin widened.
"Better than the last batch," he murmured, his voice dripping with mock approval. "At least this little bug has the decency not to waste a stylish genius's time."
The boy's eyelids fluttered. He was waking up.
Three Minutes Later
The boy's screams erupted, raw and guttural, as his body convulsed in the chair.
His small frame thrashed against the restraints, muscles bulging and veins darkening under the strain.
Stylish tilted his head, unfazed by the agony he had orchestrated.
"This one's endured longer than any of the others. Remarkable!" His tone was jubilant, nearly ecstatic.
Turning to the microphone, he barked, "Assistant, record every single detail! If anything is overlooked, I'll personally deliver your skull to the Danger Beasts!"
The assistant nodded frantically, fingers flying across the keyboard as data flooded the screens.
Seven minutes.
Black liquid began to seep from the boy's pores, a viscous substance that dripped onto the floor with wet splatters. His screams grew louder, echoing in the cold, sterile room.
Stylish's grin returned, his joy bordering on madness.
"A treasure hidden in filth," he whispered. "The boy has potential."
Twenty Minutes
The boy's body underwent horrific transformations. His limbs stretched grotesquely, bones twisting in ways that defied human anatomy.
His small hands clawed at the air, fingers elongating into talons before snapping back into place. Stylish observed every detail with a critical eye.
Then, just as suddenly as the changes began, they reversed.
The child's body returned to its human form, though marked by strange, permanent alterations.
His eyes burned with a feral intensity, gleaming gold against the pale, bloodied canvas of his face. Blue veins ran like lightning across his skin, pulsing with an unnatural glow.
Stylish leaned closer to the glass. "Fascinating. Truly fascinating."
Fifty Minutes
The child's screams subsided, replaced by incoherent mutterings as his energy waned.
His tongue, riddled with self-inflicted bite marks, protruded slightly from his bloodied mouth.
Stylish's excitement was uncontainable. "To think he managed to resist for this long. His will to survive surpasses even my expectations!"
The monitor showed his vitals, stabilizing. Stylish exhaled, finally relaxing his posture. "Just ten more minutes. That's all he needs to adapt fully. Then…"
He didn't finish the thought, his imagination running wild with the possibilities.
One Hour Later
Stylish's triumph turned to confusion as alarms blared. The boy's body began rejecting the serum, his hands scratching violently at his own skin.
Clumps of hair fell from his scalp. His flesh tore open, revealing the bloodied tissue beneath.
The sight was grotesque, but Stylish's focus was drawn to the boy's hands.
They remained pristine, unblemished, their pale beauty contrasting with the destruction elsewhere.
"Curious," he muttered, rubbing his chin.
The child let out one final guttural scream before collapsing into unconsciousness. His body was a broken ruin, the veins still pulsing faintly beneath his ravaged skin.
[One Week Later]
The antiseptic tank bubbled softly, its contents illuminated by the pale green light of the lab. The child floated within, his body hooked to countless tubes and machines.
Stylish stood before the tank, his expression a mix of frustration and reluctant admiration.
"The experiment failed," he admitted. "The Hydra's blood is too corrosive for a human host. Yet…"
He glanced at the boy's hands, still eerily perfect. "Not all was lost. His blood still holds potential, even in its corrupted state. I'll extract what I can for regenerative research."
The boy's eyelids fluttered, and Stylish leaned closer.
The child's golden eyes opened, meeting his gaze with a quiet intensity.
Stylish smirked. He tapped on the glass, speaking in a tone that was almost cheerful.
"Hello, little friend."