~Eliana~
The silence between us stretched like an elastic band, ready to snap at any moment. My heart pounded in my chest, loud enough that Jamal must've heard it. But neither of us spoke. My mind swirled with questions and doubts, each more insistent than the last.
What's happening to me? Why him? Why Jamal? We've been friends since we were kids. He's my best friend, for Christ's sake. And to top it all off, we're colleagues and classmates.
I stood frozen, torn between my thoughts and emotions, my feet glued to the floor, muscles refusing to cooperate.
Finally, he broke the silence.
"Eliana, I… I—"
Before he could finish, Scott and Maggie stormed in. The sloshing of chemicals in Scott's beaker filled the room as he quipped, his wiry smile sharp enough to cut through the tension.
"love in the lab, ain't that a tale to tell"
The awkward energy in the room became suffocating. Heat rushed to my face, my embarrassment palpable. Then, out of the corner of my eye, a glint of light caught my attention—Jamal's glasses.
Without thinking, I rushed past Scott, Maggie, and Jamal in a blur, my hands trembling as I grabbed them. The cool metal was familiar in my grip. I quickly handed them back, struggling to find words for the turmoil inside me. Instead, I turned away, retreating to my workstation in hopes of escaping the moment.
Minutes Later
Everyone had returned to their stations, pretending nothing had happened. But my focus shattered when Steven's voice, trembling with despair, broke through the quiet.
"Doc… Doc…?"
A shiver ran down my spine as I processed the figures on the progress report. The Genomorph, enclosed in the NBCR for the last four hours, was now in critical condition.
Then, the emergency alarm blared.
A deafening siren filled the lab, red warning lights flashing in frantic rhythm. Monitors spiraled into chaos, their error messages multiplying like a virus. My pulse pounded in sync with the alarms as Steven's panicked voice cut through the noise.
"Doc, we have a problem."
I turned to the screens, their flashing red lights burning into my vision. The alarms felt alive, constricting my skull like a vice.
Steven gripped my shoulder. "Doc, we need to act fast!"
"The particle accelerator is malfunctioning," he yelled, barely audible over the din. "I think something's happening to the Genomorph."
My chest tightened. Protocol 7 was our last line of defense—a desperate containment procedure. But as I reached for the control panel, my heart sank. The system was failing, screens flickering like a dying pulse.
Jamal rushed forward, his fingers dancing across the NBCR's keypad. For a second, relief flickered inside me. Then I saw the look in his eyes—the agony, the disbelief.
"We're doomed," Steven whispered.
Jamal stood frozen behind the control panel, his face illuminated by the crimson glow of the containment failure warning. His fingers hovered over the keys, unmoving, his face pale with shock.
Steven yanked my arm. "Doc, we need to leave. Now!"
He dragged me toward the exit, but the thought of Jamal still inside stopped me cold.
Ripping free from Steven's grip, I stumbled back, my heart pounding as I caught one final glimpse of Jamal.
"Jamal! Get out of there!" I screamed.
But it was too late.
His terrified gaze locked onto mine for a split second before Steven seized me again, hoisting me over his shoulder in a desperate sprint. The alarms shrieked, red lights flickering faster—like a strobe accelerating toward its deadly crescendo.
Then, the air vibrated.
A cataclysmic detonation tore through the lab, shaking the very foundations.
Still dangling from Steven's grip, all I could think about was Jamal—his face contorted in agony, his eyes wide with fear. His lips moved, but his words were lost in the chaos.
Then—
A blinding flash.
A deafening roar.
The explosion's shockwave slammed into us like a freight train.
The world warped, distorting like a painting melting in the rain. My ears rang with a piercing shriek as everything dissolved into white.
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