The air in this part of the lab is colder, sharper. It bites at my skin, sending a chill through my bones. The lights overhead flicker, casting long shadows that twist and warp across the metallic walls. The corridor stretches out before me, narrow and suffocating, every step echoing loudly in the eerie silence. The smell of chemicals and decay is stronger here, burning my nose and throat with every breath.
I move cautiously, my senses on high alert, every muscle in my body tensed and ready. I can't afford to let my guard down. Not here. Not in this place.
The deeper I go, the stranger it becomes. The hallways are littered with debris—broken machines, scattered tools, and shards of glass from shattered observation windows. But it's what's behind the glass that stops me in my tracks.
Tanks. Dozens of them, lining the walls in neat rows, each one filled with a thick, green fluid that bubbles slowly, almost lazily. Inside the tanks are creatures—monstrous, half-formed abominations. Their bodies are twisted and grotesque, like someone tried to force together pieces that didn't fit. Some have the unmistakable shape of humans, but their limbs are elongated, their skin pale and stretched tight over their misshapen bones. Others are barely recognizable, more monster than man, their forms hulking and deformed, covered in jagged scales or matted fur.
I feel curious not anger as a smile creeps up. These... things... they were once human. Or at least, parts of them were. The sight of them, suspended in the green fluid, motionless but alive, fills me with curiousity.
What kind of place is this?
I keep moving, my eyes scanning the tanks warily. The creatures inside don't stir, but I can't shake the feeling that they're watching me. Waiting.
The corridor opens up into a larger room, and I step inside cautiously, my breath catching in my throat as I take in the scene before me. More tanks—larger this time—dominate the space, each one filled with more of the horrific fusions. Some of them are farther along, their bodies more complete, their faces twisted in silent agony.
The machines surrounding the tanks hum softly, their lights blinking in a steady rhythm. I don't know what these experiments are for, but it's clear that they're still ongoing. Someone, somewhere, is still creating these abominations.
As I move deeper into the room, I hear a sound—a faint, high-pitched whine, like metal straining under pressure. I freeze, my heart pounding in my chest, and glance around, trying to pinpoint the source of the noise.
It's coming from one of the tanks.
I watch with indifference as a crack snakes its way up the side of the glass, growing wider with every passing second. The fluid inside the tank bubbles more violently now, sloshing against the glass as the creature inside stirs.
And then the tank shatters.
The green fluid bursts out, flooding the floor in a tidal wave that nearly knocks me off my feet. I stagger back, my hands instinctively flying up to shield my face as the glass rains down around me. The creature inside the tank spills out with it, its massive body hitting the floor with a sickening thud.
For a moment, it doesn't move.
Then, slowly, it rises.
The fusion is massive, its body a grotesque blend of human and monster. Its arms are too long, the muscles bulging grotesquely under its pale, slick skin. Its face is a nightmarish fusion of man and beast, with jagged, uneven teeth protruding from a misshapen jaw. Its eyes—yellow and glowing—lock onto me with a predatory intensity, and a low, guttural growl escapes its throat.
I take a step back, my heart racing. The creature is easily twice my size, its body brimming with raw, uncontrollable strength. I have no weapons, nothing to fight it with, and the look in its eyes tells me that it's not going to let me leave this room alive.
I'm trapped.
The fusion lunges at me, its speed far greater than I expected. I barely manage to dive out of the way as its massive fists slam into the ground where I was standing, the impact sending a shockwave through the floor. My mind races, searching for anything I can use to defend myself, but the room is a mess of shattered glass and broken machines.
I grab a piece of broken metal, jagged and rusted, and hold it in front of me like a makeshift blade. It's not much, but it's better than nothing.
The fusion roars and charges again, its movements wild and erratic, like it's fueled by nothing but rage. I dodge to the side, slashing at its arm with the piece of metal, but it barely registers the attack. The creature's thick skin is like armor, and my makeshift weapon barely leaves a scratch.
It swings at me again, and this time I'm not fast enough. The back of its hand catches me in the side, and I'm sent flying across the room, crashing into a pile of debris. Pain explodes in my ribs, and I can taste blood in my mouth as I struggle to get back to my feet.
The fusion stalks toward me, its massive fists clenched, its breath coming in ragged, animalistic snarls. I grip the piece of metal tighter, my vision swimming as I try to focus. My body is screaming at me to stop, to give up, but I *can't*. I won't survive if I don't fight.
The creature lunges again, and this time I'm ready. I duck under its swing and drive the piece of metal into its side with all the strength I have left. The metal sinks in, but not deep enough to do real damage. The fusion howls in pain and rage, swatting me away like a fly, but I don't let go of the metal. I twist it as hard as I can, feeling it tear through muscle and flesh.
The creature stumbles back, clutching at the wound, and I take the opportunity to scramble to my feet. I grab a nearby pipe, heavy and solid, and swing it at the fusion's head with all my might.
The impact sends a shudder through my arms, but it does the job. The fusion staggers, its movements sluggish, the wound in its side gushing thick, dark blood. I swing again, harder this time, and the pipe connects with its skull with a sickening crack.
The fusion collapses to the floor, twitching, its body convulsing in its final moments.
I don't waste any time.
I drop the pipe and drive my fists into its head, over and over, until the convulsions stop, until there's nothing left but a broken, motionless heap of flesh and blood.
My hands are shaking, covered in blood—my own and the fusion's. My breath comes in ragged gasps, and every part of my body feels like it's been shattered. The pain in my ribs is unbearable, and I can barely stand. But I'm alive. I won.
I collapse onto the floor beside the creature, my vision blurring, my body trembling with exhaustion. The adrenaline that carried me through the fight is fading fast, and all I'm left with is the raw, burning pain of my injuries.
I try to move, but my body won't cooperate. Every muscle screams in protest, and I can feel the edges of consciousness slipping away from me. My mind is hazy, filled with a thick fog that makes it hard to think, hard to focus.
I need to rest. Just for a moment.
The room around me spins, the green fluid from the shattered tank mixing with the blood on the floor. The faint hum of the machines is still there, like a distant lullaby, and I let myself sink into it, my body going limp as the exhaustion finally overtakes me.
I can't move. I can't fight anymore.
All I can do is lie here, in the dark, and hope that whatever comes next doesn't find me before I'm ready to face it.