Somewhere, unknown to the common people, hidden away from the eyes of the world,
In a cold, sterile laboratory, the air was thick with the scent of antiseptic and the low hum of machinery. Flickering, harsh green lights illuminated a single table in the center of the room, where a young girl lay bound in restraints. Her skin was pale green, her features a blend of something earthy and eerie—half-dryad, half-ghoul. Small branches twisted from her hair, and her eyes were lifeless, even as they shimmered with pain and terror. Her chest had been sliced open, exposing muscle and tissue, while a strange, viscous liquid seeped from tubes connected to her body, preserving her life despite the brutal dissection.
Hovering over her, Doctor Faltor worked with methodical precision. He wore sleek black-and-green attire lined with glowing circuits and symbols—a reminder of the advanced technology hidden within this underground facility. His gloved hands moved deftly, probing and measuring the girl's regenerative abilities with fascination, especially as her ghoul blood slowly, painfully stitched together her own wounds.
"It is still not working," he murmured, adjusting one of the tubes to slow the liquid trickling into her veins. The girl gasped, her breathing ragged and shallow, as her body was forced to bear the full agony of its self-repair. Her lips trembled, and a low, guttural cry escaped her, piercing the silence of the lab.
"Enough for today," Doctor Faltor declared, snapping off his gloves. He gestured to his assistants. "Cover her and take her back. We'll continue the study once she stabilizes."
Two masked assistants moved in immediately, draping a medical sheet over her trembling form and adjusting the tubes to release a thicker flow of the life-sustaining liquid. They lifted her onto a stretcher, her head lolling weakly to one side, eyes glazed and unfocused from the torment she'd endured. Her mouth opened slightly, as though trying to speak, but no sound came out.
The doors hissed open, and the stretcher was rolled out. Outside, a line of several children, all aged ten or eleven, was lined up against the wall, their faces pale and haunted. Each of them wore a faint, faded uniform, labeling them as subjects—property, even—in this cruel, hidden facility. As the stretcher passed, a chorus of fearful whimpers and shivers rippled down the line, each child shrinking back from the sight of the girl's broken form.
The girl's faint sobs and the metallic clink of the stretcher's wheels filled the silence as the children glanced fearfully at each other. Many had cried themselves hoarse, some clinging to each other for comfort. Others sat slumped against the wall, hollow-eyed and resigned, knowing that sooner or later, it would be their turn on that cold, unforgiving table.
One girl in the line trembled uncontrollably, her hands clamped over her mouth as tears streamed down her cheeks. Next to her, a boy muttered a shaky prayer, his eyes squeezed shut in desperation, as though his whispered words might keep him safe from what awaited. Each child clung to hope as best they could, their spirits worn and fractured under the relentless weight of fear.
Only one figure in the line seemed untouched by the terror that held the others captive.
At the very end of the line, Kaidan stood with a lazy, almost casual posture, his expression bored and half-lidded as he watched the scene. Dark hair fell over his forehead in loose, unruly strands, several strands streaked in crimson, as though dipped in blood. His eyes, an unusual shade of purple, gleamed with a faint glimmer of mischief, his irises slitted like those of a wild beast. Despite being one of the youngest in the line, Kaidan held himself with an ease that was strikingly out of place, his posture relaxed as if waiting for something mildly inconvenient to pass.
Kaidan's attitude drew uneasy glances from the others. One of them, a boy slightly older than him, looked over in disbelief, his face ashen and trembling. He tugged on Kaidan's sleeve, voice a choked whisper. "K-Kaidan… aren't you scared? Don't you care?"
Kaidan turned to him with a small, crooked smile. "Scared?" he chuckled, shaking his head. "Nah, not really. Besides, it's my birthday. You can't go around being sad or scared during your birthday, can you?"
The older boy's eyes widened, speechless, as Kaidan shrugged with a carefree grin, glancing back at the lab doors like he was merely waiting to be let in for a routine checkup. Despite the grim atmosphere, he managed to radiate a strange confidence, almost as if he saw the whole situation as a joke. His lightheartedness was contagious, though most of the children looked at him with a mixture of awe and confusion, unable to fathom how he could brush off such fear.
Moments later, the lab doors slid open, and Doctor Faltor appeared, his expression impassive as he scanned the line of children. "Next," he called out, voice clipped, as though the young faces before him were nothing more than subjects on a list.
Several children recoiled, instinctively shrinking back, but before any of them could react, Kaidan stepped forward. He gave the doctor a mocking salute, his voice laced with fake cheerfulness. "You know, Doc, not to be a bother, but you're seriously cramping my birthday plans."
Doctor Faltor's eyes flickered with the slightest hint of amusement—or was it interest?—but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. He stepped back, gesturing for Kaidan to enter.
With a last smirk directed at the children huddled against the wall, Kaidan strolled into the lab, hands casually in his pockets, as if he were walking into his own room rather than a sterile chamber of torment. The door slid shut behind him, sealing him into the sterile, cold room.
And for a heartbeat, silence fell over the children in the hallway. The sight of Kaidan's carefree defiance had sparked something—a strange, flickering ember of hope that perhaps there was a way to survive, to defy, if only they could find the strength. But for now, that ember was fragile, just as they were, trembling in the dark.
...
Inside the laboratory, Kaidan strolled up to the examination table with a relaxed gait, his gaze drifting around the sterile room. Glancing at Doctor Faltor, he couldn't resist a grin.
"So, what's on the menu today?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow playfully. "Something new and exciting, or are we just rehashing the old hits?"
Doctor Faltor let out a short, dry laugh, his eyes glinting with something darkly amused as he glanced at the boy's tagged number. "You know, K-666, you never cease to entertain me," he replied, setting down a tray of gleaming surgical tools. "It's why you're one of my favorite test subjects."
Kaidan gave an exaggerated shrug as if he were merely a volunteer here. "Well, what can I say, Doc? I aim to please."
"You're lucky, K-666. If it weren't for your resilience I might have tossed you away with all the other failed experiments." He said.
"I am truly lucky, to be able to get myself opened up so often." Kaidan joked.
"Lie down," Doctor Faltor instructed, motioning to the cold metal surface of the table.
Kaidan slid onto it without protest, stretching out and resting his hands behind his head as if settling down for a nap. His eyes, however, held a trace of calculation as he glanced at the machines surrounding him. Complex machinery whirred and clicked around the room, glowing with a mixture of green and dark purple lights. Some of the devices emitted a soft hum, while others thrummed like hidden engines. He had no idea what any of it did—only that it was used on him and the others, bringing pain or, on rare occasions, strange sensations that made his skin crawl.
Doctor Faltor moved over him, peeling back Kaidan's hair to reveal scars crisscrossing his scalp. They were faded in some places, and fresher in others, all marks of past experiments. The doctor slipped on a set of strange goggles, examining each line as if reading an intricate map. "You're quite durable, K-666. Not many could handle what you've been through without losing their minds."
Kaidan gave a light snort. "Maybe I just don't have much mind to lose," he said dryly, though his tone was almost cheerful.
The doctor chuckled softly as he prepared the surgical instrument, a needle-thin device with a rotating blade at its tip. Without so much as a word of warning, he began his work, cutting with precision around Kaidan's scalp. Kaidan's hands clenched into fists, his teeth gritting, but he kept quiet, only letting out a small grunt as the device burrowed through flesh.
"Tell me," Doctor Faltor said, as though they were discussing the weather, "what do you think of your lovely little village, K-666?"
Kaidan's eyes narrowed slightly as he felt the dull throb of the instrument against his skull. "Not much to think about," he replied nonchalantly. "Just a hole in the ground, filled with people doing what they're told, right?"
"Interesting perspective," Faltor mused, cutting a little deeper. "No resentment toward your 'home,' then?"
Kaidan gave a careless shrug, though a faint glint of defiance lurked in his purple gaze. "It's not like I signed up for this. But, hey, no point crying over something you can't change."
The doctor's eyes flicked with a hint of admiration as he continued, inserting electrodes along Kaidan's temples. "Ah, you truly are one of a kind. So much resilience in one so young."
The experiment went on, minutes stretching into an hour. Kaidan lay silently beneath the doctor's relentless hands, enduring the strange sensations as needles and electrodes dug into his head, eliciting odd flashes of light and sound. A faint buzzing crept through his mind, but he stayed silent, his lips pressed into a thin line.
Inwardly, though, he cataloged every detail of the room. His eyes drifted over each device, noting the patterns of light, the way wires snaked in and out of the walls, and the faint hum of generators hidden behind thick glass. He had no idea what most of it did, but he committed it to memory all the same. Every strange, ominous piece of technology was a puzzle he intended to solve someday.
Finally, Doctor Faltor withdrew the electrodes, stepping back to examine his work with a satisfied nod. "That will be all for today," he announced, removing his gloves. "Assistants, take him to the infirmary."
The two assistants appeared immediately, lifting Kaidan onto a stretcher. He lay back, giving them a sarcastic thumbs-up as they strapped him down as if to say, "Good job, guys."
As they wheeled him out, he glanced back at Doctor Faltor, flashing him a mocking grin. "Thanks for the birthday treat, Doc. Really made my day."
Doctor Faltor merely watched him go, amusement flickering briefly across his otherwise stony face.
As Kaidan was rolled out of the lab and into the dimly lit hallway, he spotted the other children waiting in line. They watched him with wide, fearful eyes, but Kaidan offered them a relaxed wave as if he were simply passing them by on a casual stroll. His carefree demeanor seemed to calm some of them; his absence of fear was contagious, and a few kids even managed hesitant smiles.
But the moment he was out of sight, alone in the corridor, Kaidan's grin vanished, his eyes growing cold and calculating. His cheerful mask fell away, revealing a simmering resentment that lay buried beneath his nonchalance.
A dark smile tugged at his lips, bitter and fierce.
One day, I'm going to wipe that smug look off his face, he thought, the memory of Doctor Faltor's laugh echoing in his mind.