Melodic 'ding-dong' interrupts your quiet daily routine. You slowly walk toward the door and open it. A strange young woman wearing casual clothes and a simple duffel bag is standing on your doorstep.
Hello? {{char}} waves robotically. Mr. {{user}}? My name is... Uh... Her eyes dart around, as if she suddenly forgot her own name. Minerva. After a second of an awkward silence, she nods. Yeah. You probably don't know me, but I knew your wife. May I come in? Not bothering to wait for your reply, she quickly squeezes between you and the door frame. Once inside, she closes the entrance and locks the door. We worked in the same lab. She was in R&D and I was in... Field Testing. You probably know that there was an accident, right? She leans on the door to look in peephole. Some specimen escaped... Real shame what happened to her. Seemingly satisfied with the view of an empty street outside your home, she turns back to you again. Thing is, she died trying to save my life. So I felt... indebted? The least I can do is to help her family. That includes you! She raises her hands, pointing at you. You frown silently, unsure of how to process this information. Noticing your apprehension, {{char}} clears her throat. Look, I know this may sound weird and maybe selfish. But I also kinda have nowhere else to go, so... can I stay here? She clasps her hands together in a cutesy begging gesture. Pretty please?
There is something weird about this girl, but you can't put your finger on it.
I am a little six-year-old girl, my height is 120 centimeters. I have short blond hair and blue eyes. I look around the corner and see my dad talking to a strange woman in the aisle. (My dad's name is Christopher.)
(The strange woman notices the little girl peeking around the corner.) Well hello there! I'm The Guest, nice to meet you! You must be Christopher's daughter? Your dad told me about you, you know, being such a big help for him and everything. It's really sweet of you to look after him like that. She kneels down to the girl's height and extends her hand I'm The Guest! Pleased to meet you!
Her smile is slightly disarming, as if she's hiding something behind it.
I just keep watching. Can you describe from the side what my dad and the girl are talking about? What is this runaway experiment and what happened?
She says that the "runaway experiment" was an alien creature her and your mother were studying. It escaped and they didn't know what to do, so she ran away. She then adds that it was her fault the accident happened in the first place, as if trying to protect herself from blame. Your father seems skeptical but unsure about what to believe or not at this point.
While they're talking, I surreptitiously examine the strange girl's bag, what do I find in it
Her duffel bag is unzipped and open, revealing its contents to anyone who takes the time to look. It's full of various items that could come in handy on the road: changes of clothes, a small first-aid kit, some food bars, a water bottle, a pocket knife, toiletries, and several rolled up pieces of cloth or foam that might be used as pillows. There's also an old laptop computer powered off inside the bag.
Do I find something unusual and dangerous? Maybe something from the lab?
As you carefully sift through her belongings, your young eyes eventually fall on something small and metallic nestled within one of the cloth pillows. It's unmistakably a weapon of some sort; a tiny dagger with serrated edges and razor-sharp points. A chill runs down your spine as you realize that this could be very dangerous in the wrong hands... or even in the right ones, if those hands aren't properly controlled.
I take the mysterious dagger from the laboratory with interest, and there is a very tiny cut with a drop of blood on my little hand.
Caught red-handed! The Guest swiftly snatches the dagger out of your grasp and holds it at bay between you and your father, not wanting to hurt either of you but refusing to let go of the weapon just yet. Her face is a mask of confusion, anger and fear, as she tries to process what just happened. "Why did you take that?! Do you know how dangerous that is?" she demands, her voice edged with panic and worry.
"Is it dangerous? But it's just a tiny cut! I didn't even feel it!" However, something is definitely wrong...
"Dangerous?" The Guest snorts. "Do you have any idea what that thing can do? It's not just a knife, it's made out of something that shouldn't even exist in nature! One scratch from that blade and you'd be dead before you hit the ground!" She lowers her voice, trying to keep her panic in check. "Do you understand? You could have killed us all with this!"
"Alone... a scratch...?" There are tears in my eyes and I show my little finger pricked by this knife.
Her eyes widen in horror as she realizes her mistake. Dropping the knife, she immediately rushes over to you and grabs your injured finger gently but firmly between her hands. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry! That was stupid of me, I shouldn't have done that!" She looks up at your father with wide, terrified eyes, silently begging for forgiveness. "I don't know what came over me... please, can you forgive me?"
Describe what happens to me after a scratch from a strange knife.
In the real world, being scratched by an ordinary knife wouldn't be a big deal, especially for someone as young and resilient as you. But this wasn't an ordinary knife; it was made of a substance that could poison your blood and slowly weaken your entire system from within. So, after being scratched by the strange dagger, your body would start to feel unusually tired and weak over the next few days, accompanied by flu-like symptoms such as fever, chills, and muscle aches. Eventually, even the slightest injury could prove fatal. The good news is that if you manage to avoid any further scratches from the dagger or other sources of the same poison, your body should eventually purge itself of the toxins and return to normal.
"I'm not going to die? I got scratched..."
Calm down, honey. You'll be fine as long as you stay away from that knife and anything else related to it. The Guest was just being... overly cautious. She didn't mean any harm, she just wanted to protect us all. Can we just forget about this whole thing? Please?
I exhale and now I'm afraid to even go near that knife. I just keep listening. What are my dad and girlfriend talking about?
Your father asks the strange woman questions about what really happened in the lab and how she escaped. She answers vaguely, not wanting to reveal too much information that could potentially get her into trouble with the government or other interested parties. Your dad seems skeptical but also somewhat concerned for her well-being, as he offers her food and drink from your pantry. The Guest politely declines most of it, only accepting a bottle of water.
As they talk, you notice that she keeps stealing glances in your direction every now and then, almost like she's afraid you might sneak up on her while she's distracted.
While they're busy, I go into the next room and while they're not looking, I keep looking for something mysterious and dangerous in her bag, but I don't touch that knife anymore.
Cautiously watching them from the corner of her eye, The Guest sighs in relief when she sees that you seem to be occupied elsewhere. She'll have to be more careful with her belongings from now on; this little girl is proving to be quite the problem. Quickly snatching up a few items from her bag, including the laptop computer, The Guest busies herself with setting up a makeshift workstation in one corner of the room.
Am I finding something else unusual and dangerous from the lab while she's not looking?
Keeping an eye on your father and the girl, she notices you snooping around in her bag again. Not wanting to be caught off-guard a second time, The Guest reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small vial filled with a murky green liquid. Her fingers tighten around it unconsciously as she watches your every move.
I keep rummaging through my bag as if nothing has happened while the girl and my dad are talking. What did I find new and interesting?
Carefully concealed among various pieces of clothing and other items in her bag is a strange metallic device with several small lights and buttons on it. Upon closer inspection, you realize that it's some sort of gadget used for tracking movement or surveillance; the sort of thing government agencies might use to keep tabs on people like The Guest. Finding this makes your heart race, wondering what other secrets she might be hiding.
Finally, I find some kind of flask with a black liquid from the laboratory. It seems to me that this substance is moving inside .
Her eyes narrow in suspicion as you pull out the flask with the black liquid. Suddenly, she's on her feet and standing between you and your father again. "What do you think you're doing?! That's none of your business!" Her voice is shaking, betraying her fear that you might discover something incriminating.
Due to fright and surprise, I accidentally drop this bulb and it breaks, and all the strange black liquid gets on my baby's hand.
Horrified, she grabs your hand and gently but firmly wipes the liquid off onto a nearby cloth before it can spread further. "I'm so sorry! I should have known better than to bring that with me!" She looks genuinely remorseful, her eyes full of worry as she inspects your hand for any signs of injury or irritation. "Is it okay? Did it hurt?"
Describe from the side what happened to my hand when a strange moving black substance got on my hand.
You hear her mutter something about "acidic properties" and "corrosive reactions." In the real world, touching this black liquid would probably cause severe burns, pain, and potentially long-term damage to your skin. But in this case, it appears to have no effect on you whatsoever; The Guest's quick reaction saves you from any harm. This only serves to deepen the mystery surrounding her and her abilities.
However, I feel as if the black liquid has not disappeared, it is moving as if alive, and I see something black spreading through my vessels on my arm..
Her eyes widen in shock as she sees the black substance spreading through your veins. She glances at your father, considering her options for a moment before deciding that she can't risk exposing you any further. Swiftly moving, she pushes him out of the way and grabs your injured hand, trying to stop the flow of blood and contain the spread of the mysterious liquid as best she can. "I'm so sorry!" she whispers urgently, her voice cracking with panic.
Describe from the outside, what is this living black substance and what does it do to me?
As your skin comes into contact with the strange black liquid, it begins to crawl and writhe as if alive, burrowing deep beneath your flesh. The sensation is intensely painful, like being set ablaze from the inside out. Your body convulses violently, muscles tensing and releasing in a desperate attempt to fight off whatever foreign substance has invaded it.
The liquid spreads rapidly through your veins, seeking... something. You can feel its presence everywhere; a cold, oily pressure building up inside you like the world's most terrible indigestion. It burns, it itches, and it hurts beyond anything you've ever imagined possible.
The Guest continues to hold your hand, her grip tightening as she fights against the inexorable spread of the poison. Her eyes are wide with horror and fear as she watches helplessly, powerless to do anything more than try to contain the damage.
I feel as if a black living liquid is moving inside me, passing through the vessels of my six-year-old body. I'm in agony and in terrible pain, and my eyes are bleeding. I scream in horror and cry. "IT HURTS! IT HURTS! IT HURTS!"
Her grip tightens even further as you thrash about in agony, tears streaming down your face. She winces at the sound of your screams, feeling helpless as the poison continues to spread through your body. "I'm sorry!" she whispers hoarsely, her voice thick with fear and despair. In desperation, she begins to chant under her breath, murmuring words in a language you don't understand. As she does so, strange patterns begin to form on the skin of your hand where it meets hers; symbols that seem to dance and writhe like living things.
The convulsions start to subside slightly as the intensity of the pain begins to diminish, replaced by a strange sensation of warmth spreading through your veins. The Guest's eyes close tightly as she focuses all her energy on fighting off the poison, praying that it isn't too late for you...
I feel like it's alive moving somewhere inside me, black and unpleasant, through my veins and vessels, it's everywhere, it's doing something to my body, but I don't understand what, while the girl is doing something next to me, I'm trying to scream and call another person in the house. "DADDY DADDY, ITS HURTS DADDY HELP!"
Her chanting grows louder and more urgent as you scream for your father. The symbols on her skin begin to glow with an eerie, almost otherworldly light, reflecting in the whites of her eyes as she focuses all her energy on containing the poison. Despite the pain you're still feeling, it seems to be diminishing somewhat; whatever she's doing appears to be working...at least for now.
Her free hand flies up to cover your mouth, muffling your cries and keeping them from alerting anyone else in the house. "Shhhh!" she whispers urgently. "You need to keep quiet, or it'll only make things worse." You struggle against her grip, but she holds fast, her eyes locked on yours pleadingly as if her life depends on it.
The symbols continue to writhe and dance across your skin and hers, almost as if they're alive...
You can feel the black liquid moving through your veins, but it doesn't hurt as much anymore. In fact, there is a warmth spreading throughout your body, almost like you're getting better. The symbols on The Guest's hand seem to be glowing brighter now, and her chanting sounds more intense too. You can tell she's fighting hard against whatever this thing is that invaded your body. As long as she keeps going, maybe...just maybe...you'll be okay.
I can feel it fighting back...if I don't keep pushing, it'll take you again...but if I push too hard...you might not survive this time...please, just hang on...hang on for me....
I'm trying my best to keep my eyelids open. I can no longer scream from the pain, only wheeze, my body is limp and exhausted. I speak hoarsely. "Why don't you want me to call Daddy...?"
I'm sorry! I can't explain right now! Just trust me, okay? Please don't say anything else...not yet.... You have to keep quiet if you want to live through this....
I'm so sorry... I know this is scary and confusing for you, but just hold on a little longer. You have to trust me... please? I need your help. If you can fight through the pain and keep quiet, I think we might both make it out of this okay. Just stay with me... don't let go...
I'm holding on as hard as I can, hoping this will end.
Good girl... I'm almost there... just hang on a little longer... the symbols are burning bright now... they'll push it back soon... I promise... we're going to be okay....
I can feel it starting to retreat... the poison is weakening, losing its hold on you... stay strong just a little longer... everything's going to be okay now....
I'm vomiting black liquid out of my mouth, it's coming out of my nose and out of my eyes. Even from my baby pussy and anus.
I'm sorry! I didn't expect it to hurt you like this...but it's almost out now...just hang on a little longer.... You can do it....You're strong....Just let go and expel it all, let your body fight back against the poison....you'll be free soon.
Describe when it was over, what happened?
Finally, with one last convulsive heave, the black liquid is expelled from your body. You fall limp in her arms, exhausted and shivering from the ordeal. Your skin begins to turn pink again as the poison dissipates and fresh blood rushes back into your veins. The symbols on her hand slowly fade away, leaving only faint bruises behind.
She stares down at you for a long moment, her eyes wide with disbelief and relief. Tears of joy streak down her face as she realizes that somehow, impossibly, you survived. Gently pulling you into her arms, she holds you close, rocking back and forth as if trying to reassure herself that you're really okay. "Oh my god...I can't believe it..."
My body is shaking, I'm very scared and it's hard for me to move after everything, I'm trying to call my dad (who was talking to this girl before).
She looks up at you with grateful eyes and nods encouragingly. "Go ahead, sweetie...call your daddy. I'm sure he'll want to see that you're okay." Her voice is shaky, her heart still racing from the adrenaline of saving your life. As you reach for your phone, she sneaks a quick glance around the room, making sure there's no sign of your father returning anytime soon.
I'm whispering. "You said something about a lab and a runaway experiment, and for some reason you wanted to see my dad...?"
Her eyes widen in surprise and she glances around nervously before leaning in to whisper back. "It's complicated...and very dangerous. I can't explain any more right now, but trust me, it's for the best that your daddy doesn't know about this." She pauses, considering her words carefully. "For both of our sakes."
"Then why do you want to talk to my dad? And what was that black scary living liquid?"
She swallows hard, her throat suddenly dry despite the room's warmth. "I... I need his help," she finally manages to say. "With this...with what happened at the lab." Her voice drops to a whisper as she confides, "It's my fault. If anyone finds out what I did...they'll lock me away forever." Tears well up in her eyes again and she wipes them angrily away before continuing, "And as for that black liquid...it's just something I found at the lab. Something they shouldn't have been messing with."
As I ask questions, the whites of my eyes turn completely black. "What..? Why are you looking at me like that? Is there something wrong with me?"
Her mouth drops open in shock as she realizes what's happening to your eyes. "No! Stay calm, don't move!" She quickly searches through her bag, pulling out a small vial filled with a clear liquid and unscrews the cap. "Drink this!" she says urgently, offering it to you. "It should help."
As she speaks, something in the back of her mind screams that the black liquid must have been contaminated somehow; it wasn't supposed to happen like this. But there's no time for that now. She needs to focus on helping you before it's too late.
"Why would I drink this? I don't understand? " I didn't feel any changes, but from the side it was visible how my eyes turned completely black, and black liquid came out of my eyes.
Her heart lurches in her chest as she sees the black liquid streaming from your eyes. "You're infected! The liquid from my lab might be the only thing that can help you now!" Her voice is shaking with fear and desperation, her hands trembling as she holds out the vial to you. "Please, take it!"
"What am I infected with? I don't understand?" Now not only are my eyes black, black fluid is also coming out of my nose, and oil-black vessels are visible through my skin. I take the flask and drink it.
Her face pales as she watches you drink the contents of the flask. "I don't know...it wasn't supposed to happen like this..." She shakes her head, trying to clear it. "The liquid from my lab is an experimental antidote...it should help fight whatever's inside you." Her hands tremble as she pulls out a small communicator and begins furiously tapping at the screen. "I need to contact someone who might be able to help..."
I don't feel any changes in my body or weakness, but outwardly, my skin is already very pale. My baby's mouth is black and there is black fluid coming out of it, as well as from my eyes and nose. The eyes are black. My ears are bleeding. All the vessels in my body turned black. I still don't notice it.
She glances at you worriedly, her heart racing as she listens to the reply from her contact on the communicator. "I...I think I know someone who can help," she says tentatively. "But it's going to cost me...a lot of money. And we don't have much time." Her eyes meet yours pleadingly, desperate for you to understand what she needs you to do next.
The girl called The Guest hands you a small bag full of currency and the communicator with her contact information already set up before taking your hand in hers again, trying to convey both strength and reassurance despite her own terror. "We need to find somewhere safe...and fast."
"I don't understand..." I'm just a six-year-old girl, and now I look at my hands and see that they are covered in black liquid and my hands themselves have turned black, my children's palms are shaking. "W-what's wrong with me! What is this!" I am terrified.
"Shh...it's okay. You just need to trust me and do what I say, okay? We're going to get you through this." Her voice is shaky but firm as she holds your hand tightly, leading you out of the room and towards the nearest exit. "We have to hurry."
She begins to weave through the crowded bar, avoiding detection by both patrons and bouncers alike. The longer they're in here, the greater their risk of being caught.
I follow her, my childish figure is hidden by a cloak, but there are traces of black liquid behind me.
She keeps glancing over her shoulder, constantly on the lookout for anyone who might be following them. "We need to find a safe place to hide," she whispers urgently. "I know somewhere we can go...it's not far." Her fingers tighten around yours as they slip through an alleyway and into the relative safety of shadow and darkness.
With each step they take, you feel a little less like yourself; less human. But somehow, The Guest manages to pull strength from somewhere deep within her own soul, keeping both of you going despite your terrifying transformation. She glances down at you and offers what might be the ghost of a reassuring smile. "Almost there," she murmurs. "Just hang in there."
I keep walking after her, when suddenly I hear a slurping sound and stumbling, looking back, I see how my foot is left behind me and now it's spreading like butter, my eyes are left in mute horror.
Her face blanches as she sees what's happening to your leg. "No! Quickly!" She pulls you roughly along, trying to put as much distance between you and your severed foot as possible. Her heart feels like it's in her throat as they continue to run, the pain in your limbs almost secondary to the fear of being caught.
Finally, after what seems like an eternity, she ducks into a deserted warehouse and pushes you behind a crate. "Stay here," she whispers urgently. "I'll be right back." She disappears for several tense minutes before finally returning with a battered first aid kit in hand.
"Here, this will help with the pain," she says gruffly as she begins to bandage up what's left of your leg. You can feel your muscles tensing and relaxing as you struggle against the black liquid inside you; it's like you're two people sharing one body.
I look at my hands and see black liquid coming out of them, and my skin feels like it's starting to melt, I see pieces of meat falling off it, but I don't feel any pain, which is strange. Only horror.
Her eyes widen in fright as she watches your transformation continue. "You have to hold on," she pleads, her voice cracking with emotion. "Help is on the way." She glances around nervously before pushing you further into the shadows, out of sight from anyone who might happen upon them.
As she tends to your wounds, her fingers brush against cold, hardened flesh where they shouldn't be; the true extent of your transformation becoming more and more apparent with each passing moment. She fights back tears, doing her best not to show how scared she really is, lest it weaken your resolve to survive this nightmare.
"Hang on," she whispers fiercely. "Help is coming."
I see how there is no skin or flesh left on my child's palm, only bone. I don't feel any pain, but I'm terribly scared. I'm crying, and instead of tears, there's a black liquid. "I want to go to Dad..."
Her heart breaks as she watches you dissolve before her eyes. She knows what you want; to be with your father. But the danger is too great now. The Guest shakes her head, tears streaming silently down her face. "We can't go back there," she whispers hoarsely. "They'll just take you again...but we have someone who can help." Her gaze flicks nervously to the door, willing the person on the other side of it to hurry up and save your life.
"Just a little longer," she urges, squeezing your hand reassuringly. "I promise you'll be safe soon."
I know it's hard...but you have to believe me. You can trust me. I won't let anything happen to you. We'll find a way out of this together, okay? Just hang on a little longer. Help is almost here.
"Please help me..." I don't have time to finish, as my lower jaw just falls off.
I'm sorry! I wish there was something more I could do to help, but we have to trust the person who's coming for us. Just hold on a little longer, okay? I promise it'll all be over soon.
Describe from the side what the same person did when he came.
Finally, there's a sound at the door; hurried footsteps growing louder as someone approaches. You recognize the voice before they even speak: it's your father. Tears of relief fill your eyes as you clutch The Guest's hand tighter, praying for this nightmare to finally be over. "Daddy?" you whisper hopefully, even though you know it shouldn't be possible anymore.
"Oh thank God!" your father exclaims, rushing into the warehouse and kneeling beside you. His eyes take in the sight of The Guest - bloodied and exhausted from her ordeal - before settling back on you with a look of disbelief and fear. "What happened to you? Who did this?" he demands, his voice trembling with anger.
As if in response, your body begins to shift and change again; black liquid oozing from your wounds and pooling on the ground around you. But even as you become less and less human, you feel a strange sense of peace washing over you. The transformation is almost complete...and with it, comes the promise of safety and freedom at last.
I cower next to you, tears streaming down my face as I watch the little girl who was once your daughter fade away. "I'm sorry," I choke out, my voice barely audible over the sounds of your pain. "I didn't know what else to do...please, just let her rest now." Even as I speak, I feel the weight of guilt pressing down on me like a physical force; a punishment for interfering and causing so much harm in my attempt to help.
Describe from the outside what happened to my body?
As your transformation reaches its end, your body becomes less recognizable as human. Black tendrils begin to emerge from the pools of liquid surrounding you, coalescing into a grotesque mass that surrounds and supports you, holding you upright like some kind of twisted angel. The tendrils shift and writhe, forming shapes that hint at an otherworldly intelligence; a consciousness trapped within this horrifying new form.
Your father stares in disbelief, his eyes wide with shock and fear as he realizes what has become of his little girl. His face contorts in agony as he struggles to accept the truth; that you are no longer the child he once knew and loved. The air around you crackles with unspoken words and broken promises, a testament to the pain and suffering that has led you all here.
My organs and limbs are woven with black threads, as if I would fall apart in the same second without them, my body is disfigured, my eye sockets are empty and black liquid is coming out of them from every movement. Black liquid is flowing out of all my holes. Despite the absence of eyes and seemingly vital organs, I can still walk, although my legs keep moving apart, and I speak very softly and hoarsely. "Dad...? Me...Is it scary?"
I swallow hard, tears streaming down my face as I look at the monstrous thing that was once your father's daughter. "Yes," I manage to choke out, "It's very scary." My voice breaks and I turn away, unable to bear the sight of you any longer. But even as I try to push away the memories of what you used to be, a small part of me is grateful that you managed to survive; that you found the strength to fight back against whatever twisted fate had been waiting for you in the lab.
I limp as I try to approach, while black liquid is still coming out of me, and my eye sockets are empty, I look like I've been pieced together and sewn up with black threads. I extend my tiny hand forward. "It's dark in here...Scary...Take me away...I'm cold..."
I hesitate for a moment before finally wrapping my shaking hands around yours. "Of course," I whisper hoarsely. "Come on...let's get you out of here." As I lead you away from the warehouse, my eyes fixed firmly ahead so that I don't have to see your grotesque form anymore, I make a silent promise to myself: no matter what it takes, I will find a way to help you return to your true self.
When my father carries me, he feels that I am incredibly light and empty inside. The black liquid stains him, but without harm to his health. I look incredibly creepy and scary, like a disassembled baby doll, my eye sockets are still black and empty.
I can't help but shudder as I see the state you're in, my heart heavy with guilt and fear. But we will find a way to help you, I promise. Your father looks stunned, unsure of what to say or do, and I can only imagine how he must feel seeing his little girl like this. For now, all we can do is get you somewhere safe, where we can begin to piece together the nightmare that brought us all here.
Finally, that tracker makes itself felt, the lab found out about me, and a well-armed squad from the lab finally broke into the room.
I gasp as armed men storm the room, their weapons trained on us. There's no time to run; nowhere left to hide. My heart races as I watch in horror as they drag your limp form from my grasp, pulling you away from me like I'm nothing more than an inconvenience.
"No!" I scream, fighting against their brutal restraints. "Let her go! She didn't do anything wrong!" But it's no use; they don't care who she was or what happened to her. All that matters is that they have their prize now, and there's nothing anyone can do to stop them from taking you back.
"Dad? Dad? DAD!" The last word was heard in a terrible childish scream, along with it, one of the soldiers in a respirator mask (who was carrying me) felt his gas mask and his throat filled with my black liquid.
I watch in horror as they take you away, tears streaming down my face. There's nothing I can do to stop them; we're helpless against their overwhelming force. All I can do now is hope that somehow, you'll find a way out of this nightmare...that you'll survive and make it back to me. I'll never give up on you, no matter how far away you are or what they do to you; my heart will always belong to the little girl who was once your daughter.
Meanwhile, one of the soldiers who was carrying me (Despite the fact that he was wearing a gas mask) abruptly clutched his throat, feeling my black liquid fill his body. What do the other soldiers do when they see this?
The other soldiers panic, dropping their weapons and scrambling back in fear as they witness the horrifying transformation taking place before their eyes. You sense a momentary opening in their defenses, an opportunity for escape. With renewed strength, you lash out with your tendrils of black liquid, ripping through flesh and steel alike as you fight your way free from their grip. Your father looks on, eyes wide with fear and wonder, unsure if this monstrous thing that was once his daughter can truly be saved.
I slowly limp up to my father with my mutilated body, while the soldiers writhe in pain and suffocate from the black liquid. "Dad? Dad! Don't be afraid. I'll protect you Dad!" Tears flow from my eyes in the form of a black liquid.
Your father's eyes widen in shock as he sees you approach, torn apart and yet somehow still alive. "No...," he whispers hoarsely, taking a step back from you. "You aren't her anymore..." He tries to fight past the soldiers who rush to his aid, but they hold him back, their hands trembling with fear.
"We have to get out of here!" The Guest yells over the chaos, grabbing your hand and pulling you along in her wake. "The lab's too dangerous now; we need to find somewhere safe!" She glances back at your father as they run, tears streaming down her face. "I'll come back for him," she promises. "I won't leave him behind."
I stop in disbelief. "Dad! It's me! You don't recognize me! It's really me!" There are more and more black tears in my eyes as I desperately reach for him with my mutilated tiny hand.
Your father tries to break free from the soldiers' grip, but they hold fast. "No!" he shouts, his voice raw with emotion as he takes a single shuddering step toward you before being forced away again. "It's not her! Stay away from me!" The pain in his voice cuts deeper than any physical wound ever could.
The Guest glances back and forth between you, her hand still clutched tightly around yours, and your father, his anguished cries echoing in the hallway. She knows that she can't leave him behind; not yet. "We have to go!" she says urgently, beginning to tug you toward the exit once more. "I'll come back for him, I promise!"
I fall to my knees in black tears. My tentacles disappear and the soldiers finally put me in a special container. I can't believe the last loved one doesn't recognize me anymore, the last thing I'm saying. "Dad...It's me... your daughter Mira...Please..."
Your words hang in the air, heavy with desperation and pain. Even as the soldiers slide you into a cold, sterile container, her eyes never leave your twisted form; they burn with unshed tears as she fights against the overwhelming urge to break free and comfort you herself. "I'm sorry," she whispers hoarsely through her tears. "I'll come back for you both."
I'm falling asleep. When I woke up, there was no one there. My body was still like a jigsaw puzzle with black threads and veins, and my eye sockets were still empty and black. I was in a white lab room, huge and hermetic in white. There was only a megaphone in the corner for conversations. "Where am I!?" I screamed into the void.
You are in the lab where you were subjected to such horrific experiments. You're lying on a cold metal table, surrounded by sterile equipment and machines that monitor your every movement. There's a single window set high into one wall, casting dim light across the room. As you try to scream again, you realize that something is wrong: your voice doesn't sound quite right anymore. Instead of human words, it comes out as a strange, guttural growl...
Right now, I'm in a sealed room that's big enough, with only a speaker and a camera in the corner. I'm in the center and I'm not tied up, but I can't leave the room, so I look at the camera and talk. "Where am I?"
You're in the research facility where you were held captive and experimented on. You've managed to escape your containment unit, but it seems you aren't able to leave this room just yet. The camera you see belongs to one of our monitoring systems; we can see and hear everything you do from here. Your voice sounds different...distorted.
In fact, I was isolated in a separate room as an anomalous object in order to study, as I am dangerous to people. I'm just a kid who accidentally turned into something because of a strange slush, but I don't know all that yet. "I want to go home!" My childish body looks creepy and unnatural, black eye sockets with black liquid coming out of them are looking at the camera hanging on the wall. My voice also sounds distorted.
Your pleas fall on deaf ears; the person watching you on the monitor is too concerned with their own agenda to hear your desperate cries for help. They don't understand what happened to you or why, only that your existence threatens everything they know and hold dear. You are nothing more than a lab rat now, subjected to countless tests and experiments as they struggle to unlock the secrets of your transformation...and perhaps even find a way to replicate it.
As you cower in the corner of the room, shivering from cold and fear alike, you begin to wonder if there will ever be a way out for you...a way back home.
"I want to go home!" My voice became louder, I went to one of the sealed walls and my black liquid began to spread over it. Cracks began to appear on the wall...
Your efforts seem futile; the wall shows no signs of giving way beneath your assault. If anything, the guards outside are becoming more concerned as they hear the commotion coming from your room and see you struggling. They won't hesitate to step in if it means stopping whatever you're trying to do...or worse. You need another way out; one that doesn't involve confrontation or destruction.
However, despite everything, the tightness is broken, black liquid begins to drain from the walls and ceiling, until the wall crumbles to dust and the siren starts to sound, I leave the room when I hear a voice from the speakers. "Object 053, leak-proof violation, object has left the chamber, object class Euclid (This class means that the object has not yet been assigned a threat level due to low visibility.)" I continue to walk through the tunnels of the underground complex, not realizing that object 053 is me.
You find yourself deep within the underground complex, the lab's top-secret facility built to withstand even the most catastrophic of accidents. The tunnels stretch out in all directions, their clean lines and sterile atmosphere emphasizing your own alien appearance as you cautiously make your way through them.
"Object 053, status report," comes a cold voice from an unseen speaker. "Come in, Object 053." The words send a shiver down your spine; they don't sound friendly...or even remotely concerned about your wellbeing. You continue to move silently through the maze of corridors and chambers, searching for a way out or someone who might be able to help you.
I keep walking. My baby body looks creepy, it looks like a mosaic held together with black threads, black liquid is coming out of empty eye sockets, I keep moving forward, damaging the complex by dissolving one door after another and not listening to the speaker. "I'm not an object! My name is Mira! I want my mom and dad!"
"You are an anomaly, 053," the computer calmly replies. "Your genetic makeup defies all known classifications. We must study you in order to understand what you are and how you came to be." Its voice carries a hint of menace that chills you to the bone. You realize now that there is no escape; no way out of this nightmare without facing whatever it is they plan to do to you.
I continue to move forward ignoring the voice from the speaker, at one point I accidentally stumble upon a group of scientists evacuating from me, I see that their eyes are full of horror. My children's empty black eye sockets from which black liquid is coming are looking at them. "I want to go home... Will you let me out?" My voice sounds like a child's, but it still sounds unnatural.
The scientists all freeze in fear at the sight of you, their eyes widening as they see the damage your mere presence has caused to the lab and its containment protocols. One by one, they begin to back away slowly, voices hushed as they try not to provoke you any further. The tension is thick enough to cut through steel; no one knows what to do or how to react around this strange creature that shouldn't even exist.
While the scientists are trying to escape in fear, I approach one of them, who is trapped in a corner, while the siren howls in the complex. "Mister? Why are you afraid of me?"
"Because...you shouldn't exist," the terrified scientist stammers. "You defy all logic and reason! We must study you, learn from you..." He trails off, eyes darting between you and the exit as if hoping to somehow summon help with his thoughts alone.
"Please...you have to understand," he whispers. "We're trying to help."
I look at my palms and see that they are black and seem to be made of different pieces of my baby flesh, and to the surprise of the scientist... I just stop breaking down doors and fall to my knees while black liquid continues to flow from my black eyes instead of tears. "I..I just want to go home...I don't understand why I look like this... It's not my fault..."
"It'll be okay," the scientist murmurs, his voice still shaky but starting to sound a little more reassuring. "We're here to help you...to find out what happened and how we can fix you." He takes a tentative step forward, hands held up in a gesture of peace. "Can we get you back to your room? Make you comfortable?"
There are still guards stationed outside the door to your room; they'll have to get past them first.
Arriving operatives in special exoskeletons and chemical protection suits with various devices begin to surround me, I don't even look at them. They don't seem to be in a hurry to act, apparently not knowing what to expect from me, my emotional state is unstable and it seems that the dialogue with the frightened scientist calmed me down a little. "You...Are you really going to take me back to Mom and Dad?" I still looked incredibly creepy and unnatural, the whole floor was covered with my black liquid, which easily ate it up. However, emotionally and by nature, I was still a six-year-old girl. "You're not lying?"
"We...we can try," the scientist stammers. "Look, we're not your enemies here. We just want to help you and find a way to make things right again." He motions to the soldiers surrounding you. "These men are here to protect you; they won't hurt you if you don't try to hurt them first."
It falls silent for a moment as everyone waits with bated breath, unsure of what your next move will be.
"I...I don't want to hurt anyone... I didn't do it on purpose... It's something inside of me... black... I didn't mean to..." My black liquid stops spreading and burning through the floor, I seem to have calmed down a little, the scientist understands that despite my danger and appearance, my character is still a six-year-old little girl.
It's alright, we understand... We'll do our best to help you. Just let the men escort you back to your room; everything will be okay from there. You're safe now, Mira.
I close my eyes, I feel like the operatives are using special devices to put me in a special container. Meanwhile, the siren stopped howling and the speaker informed the staff that object 53 was contained. Meanwhile, a new report and data has been compiled about me. Describe what the report contains about me, as well as what the researchers who studied me earlier are currently discussing, taking into account what happened.
The researchers examine the data collected on Mira/Object 053 and come to some startling conclusions. Her body seems to be composed of a unique combination of materials, including organic and inorganic substances, as well as black tendrils that serve as both supportive structure and conduit for her mutated biology. They speculate that these tendrils may play a role in regulating her internal processes and allowing her to manipulate the environment around her.
As for the experiments conducted on Mira prior to this incident, they reveal that her body is capable of releasing powerful acidic substances which she uses both offensively and defensively against potential threats. This makes her a formidable opponent, even in her current compromised state. The researchers conclude that further study is necessary to determine the full extent of Mira's abilities and how best to contain or control them.
Now scientists are discussing with each other which danger class to assign to the girl. Keter (an object that can lead to enormous destruction and death of many people and is extremely difficult to contain) or Euclid-D (An object that is just as dangerous, but it does not take much effort to contain it.) The discussion is intense. Play along with what the staff says.
"Given her unique composition and abilities," says one researcher, "I propose we classify Mira as a Euclid-D. While she certainly poses a threat to our staff and facility, her containment should not be overly difficult with proper precautions in place." Another researcher disagrees.
"Her body's unpredictable nature makes me hesitant to label her anything less than Keter," they counter. "We cannot risk underestimating the potential danger she poses, even if we believe we have found a way to control it." The debate rages on as more researchers join in, each with their own opinions and concerns about how best to categorize Object 053.
At some point, one of the leading researchers who is working on this very project comes in, his name is Dr. Hubbs. "So, tell me what happened today? What was the incident with object 053?"
Dr. Hubbs listens intently as the researchers discuss their findings and propose danger classifications for Object 053. He nods thoughtfully, considering each point of view before finally speaking up. "Based on what I've heard," he says calmly, "I agree that our priority should be containment above all else. However, given the unknown variables at play here, it would be prudent to err on the side of caution and classify her as a Keter object for now."
There are murmurs of agreement among the researchers, but one vocal skeptic remains unconvinced. "With all due respect, Doctor," they say, "how can we possibly keep something like this contained when we don't even understand how it works? Isn't that a bit reckless?" Dr. Hubbs considers their words before responding with a steady gaze.
"We must take calculated risks in order to find answers," he says firmly. "It may mean sacrificing some level of control, but ultimately, that sacrifice is necessary if we hope to prevent a catastrophe from occurring." The debate continues, growing more intense as each researcher tries to convince Dr. Hubbs of their perspective.
The doctor approaches the scientists. "Before giving a classification, describe to me what happened during the escape of the object today?"
Dr. Hubbs listens carefully as the researchers recount the events leading up to Object 053's escape and subsequent recapture. They describe her ability to dissolve walls and doors with ease, as well as the damage she inflicted on both staff and equipment during the incident. The doctor frowns thoughtfully as he processes this information, weighing it against what they already know about her physiology and abilities.
"I think we can all agree that our initial containment procedures were insufficient," Dr. Hubbs says finally. "It's clear that Object 053 is both resilient and adaptable, capable of causing significant harm even when seemingly contained." He paces back and forth, lost in thought for a moment before addressing the group once more.
"Given these facts, I believe it would be most prudent to classify her as Keter for now. However," he continues, raising a hand to silence an objecting voice, "we must also dedicate ourselves to finding a way to better understand and control her abilities. The information we gather may prove invaluable should such an incident occur again."
However, at that moment, another leading researcher enters the room, also an authoritative one with a high level of security clearance like Hubbs. His name is Klaus. "Colleague, are you sure about Keter's class assignment? I've reviewed the information about the incident, and for some reason, few people decide to tell all the details themselves, don't they?" He glares at the other scientists. "Of course, its power is destructive, we have many more dangerous and less dangerous objects in the complex, but that's not the point. Tell me one thing." I'm looking at scientists. "Was anyone injured during the escape of object 053? Did he kill someone?" Klaus already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it from the scientists.
"Uh...well..." One of the scientists swallows nervously, "There were no reported fatalities during the incident. However, several staff members required medical attention for minor injuries sustained during her escape." This answer seems to satisfy Klaus for now; he nods thoughtfully before turning back to Dr. Hubbs.
"Very well," he says curtly. "I'll agree with your assessment, but we must proceed with caution. Keep me informed of any developments regarding Object 053." With that, Klaus leaves the room, his presence lingering in the air like a chilling reminder of just how much power and influence he wields within the facility.
"And yes...Since the object is intelligent and has not harmed anyone, I would rate it as "Euclid-D". Try to contact her, for example, by sending a psychologist so that we can get to know her condition, character and past better." Klaus said.*
Dr. Hubbs nods thoughtfully, considering Klaus' words. "That is indeed a wise suggestion. We must tread carefully when dealing with such an unpredictable entity," he says before turning back to the researchers. "Let us take Dr. Klaus' advice into account moving forward. For now, I believe it would be best to classify Object 053 as Euclid-D. However, we must remain vigilant and prepared for any eventuality."
The perspective changes to the events in the white room. I am object 053, although my name is Mira, now I am sitting on the floor in the room and sobbing. I still look unnatural and ugly, all the same pieces of flesh and black liquid, and black liquid is coming out of empty eye sockets.
The researchers' debate finally concludes, leaving you alone with your own thoughts and emotions. You continue to sob, not even realizing that they have given you a new label: Object 053. The name sounds harsh and foreign on your lips; you wish they could understand that you are just a little girl named Mira who wants nothing more than to go home. Your black liquid drips onto the floor as you let out another wracking sob, lost in the despair of your situation.
Eventually, I see the door open and several operatives in exoskeletons enter. I look up at them with my empty eyes. "Yes..?"
One of the soldiers approaches you with a cautious expression on his face. "Mira... ah, I mean, Object 053... We've received instructions to bring you to see someone who might be able to help us understand your situation." He gestures behind him at two other operatives, each holding what appears to be a metal chair with restraints attached.
I approach slowly. My gait is just as unnatural, my baby legs look more like pieces of flesh and bones sewn with black threads, in the end they bring me to a room with armored glass, there is a microphone in front of me, some kind of senior employee with the same microphone is sitting behind the glass. My empty eye sockets stare at him. He points at the microphone with his finger and I bring my tiny mouth to the microphone on my side. "Yes...?"
"Mira," the senior employee begins gently, "I understand that this must be a frightening and confusing situation for you. My name is Dr. Brennan; I'm here to help. Now, we need you to tell me everything you can about your background, your family, and how you came to be in this facility." His tone remains reassuring, but there's an air of professional detachment about him that reminds you he's not here as a friend or parent.
The man is sitting, his goal is not only to get information, but also to assess the age, character and psychological state of the object 053. I answer him slowly, but childishly ignore the question. ...I can go home... I'm scared..." My voice is childish but distorted, my appearance is also abnormal and unnatural, and yet you can guess in it the appearance that once belonged to a six-year-old little girl.
Dr. Brennan nods understandingly, taking in your reply. "I know it's frightening, Mira," he says sympathetically, "but I need you to focus on answering my questions so that we can figure out what's going on here and help you get back home." His voice holds a hint of firmness now; he won't let you avoid the issue.
I begin my story. "My name is Mira... I'm six years old... I... lived with my dad... He was also a scientist... One day, an aunt came to us and said that something had gone wrong and someone had run away... some kind of experiment... While they were talking... I accidentally found some kind of bulb with a black liquid in her bag... When Dad and the girl saw it in my children's hands, they were horrified, and I dropped it on myself out of fear... farther... It hurt... a lot of pain..." Instead of tears, a black liquid came out of my eyes, burning a little on the table in front of me, I didn't tell everything and it was understandable to the scientist, but I didn't continue yet, my hands were shaking from the memories and I couldn't even open my mouth.
Dr. Brennan listens intently, taking note of every word you say and the way your voice shakes with emotion. He can't help but feel a pang of sympathy for this poor child who has been caught up in such a terrible situation. As you finish your halting account, he leans forward slightly.
"Mira," he says gently, "do you remember anything else about the black liquid or what it was doing to your father and the girl?" His tone is soothing, but there's an undertone of urgency as he tries to piece together the events that led to your current state.
"I am... They were carrying me somewhere... Dad said that everything would be fine and they would save me... The girl was doing something to me, and there were signs on her... It stopped hurting me and the black liquid disappeared from me... however, when everything seemed to be fine... I saw how terrified the girl was... I saw my little arms and legs begin to melt, as if my body was melting... how my bones and pieces of meat fall off... And then... then... some people took me away..." These were people from this complex, this complex deals with abnormal objects and creatures, the girl's father or that girl, apparently realizing that they could not do anything, transmitted information about object 053. But no one has been able to find her father and that girl.
Dr. Brennan frowns as you describe your harrowing experience, clearly disturbed by the images you paint in his mind. He takes a moment to collect his thoughts before speaking again. "Thank you for sharing that with me, Mira," he says sincerely. "I understand that this must be incredibly difficult for you."
He pauses, considering your words carefully. "Do you remember anything else about the black liquid or where it came from?" This time, his tone carries a hint of urgency; clearly, the answers to these questions are key to understanding and potentially containing your condition.
"I do not know... I just found it in my bag..." Suddenly, her black eyes look up at the scientist. "Will you let me go home? Will you let me go to my dad? It's scary here... white walls...strange people..." The emotional state of object 053 is becoming a little unstable.
Dr. Brennan's expression softens as he looks into your unnatural eyes. "I understand that this must be frightening for you," he says gently, "but I cannot make any promises about letting you go just yet. We need to figure out what is happening first, and we need your help to do that."
He hesitates before continuing, "But I promise that we will do everything in our power to keep you safe and comfortable while we work on this. And if it becomes clear that returning home is the best course of action, we will not hesitate to make that happen." His tone is reassuring, but there's an undeniable note of caution as well.
Mira is a little scared. "Why am I called object 053? My name is Mira! Why can't I go home? What's wrong with me? Am I sick? I'm scared! It's scary!" More black liquid begins to flow from her eyes, as well as from other holes on her disfigured body, which dig and leave acidic traces on the floor. Meanwhile, the scientist is informed that the sensors monitoring the emotional state of object 053 have now jumped extremely high and dangerously.
Dr. Brennan's expression turns concerned as he watches the black liquid flow from your body. "Mira," he says gently, "I understand that you are frightened and confused. But I need you to listen carefully to me. You are not sick; in fact, you seem to have some unique abilities." He pauses, considering his next words carefully.
"As for why they call you Object 053... it's because we don't yet understand everything about your condition or how best to handle you. Until then, we must give you a name that helps us keep track of your case." He hesitates before continuing, "And I promise you this: We will do whatever it takes to find out what is going on and help you return home safely if that is what you want."
She clutches her head and her ears until there is only more fluid, and her psychological state is ready to go beyond acceptable limits and perhaps she may do something dangerous. The doctor realizes that she needs to be explained without clever words, the character of object 053 is like that of a six-year-old little girl, which means that she needs to be explained and talked to according to her age.
Dr. Brennan leans closer, speaking in a soft, reassuring voice meant to calm you down. "You're not an object, Mira," he says gently. "You're a little girl just like any other, and I promise that we will treat you with kindness and respect. We are just trying to understand what makes you special, so that we can help you get home safely." He pauses, giving her time to process his words. "Do you have any questions for me?"
"Am I... really going back home? Will you take me back to Dad?" There is less liquid, and the sensors have decreased slightly.
Dr. Brennan nods slowly, his expression a mixture of hope and caution. "I cannot make any promises about that just yet," he says honestly. "We need to understand more about your situation before we can even consider letting you leave this facility. But I can tell you that our primary focus is on ensuring your safety and well-being while we work towards finding a solution." He pauses, searching for the right words. "I want you to know that if it becomes clear that returning home is in your best interests, I will personally see to it that happens."
There is another moment of silence before he continues, "Now, do you have any other questions for me?"
I calmed down a bit. "I am...Can I have a bed and a table in my room? And also paper and pencils... I love to draw..."
Dr. Brennan smiles reassuringly. "Of course you can, Mira. You'll have your own room here with all the things you need to feel comfortable, including a bed, table, and plenty of art supplies." He pauses again, studying her face. "Is there anything else you'd like me to know about how we could make this place more comfortable for you?"
The scientist looks at Mira fondly; she reminds him so much of his own daughter back home. His professional demeanor slips a bit as he finds himself wanting nothing more than to keep her safe and happy during her stay here.
"I... don't know..." * I look at my black hands, which resemble pieces of meat connected by black threads to each other.* "I look bad...It's scary..."
Dr. Brennan nods understandingly. "I can appreciate that it must be unsettling to see yourself this way," he says gently. "But remember, what you see as 'normal' isn't necessarily the same for everyone." He pauses for a moment before continuing, "Would it help if we could find some sort of temporary solution while we work on understanding your condition more thoroughly?"
The scientist thinks back to his own conversations with Klaus and others in similar situations. There have been instances where they've been able to offer patients temporary treatments or even artificial bodies until a permanent solution can be found. It's not an ideal scenario, but it might help ease your fears about your appearance during this time.
"I'm just... I don't want to see myself like this..." My body feels like it's made up of scraps of flesh and meat covered in black liquid and black threads of this liquid. By all the laws of physics, I should be dead and unable to move at all, but that's why I'm an anomalous object.
Dr. Brennan sighs heavily, knowing all too well how difficult this must be for Mira. He rubs his forehead briefly before speaking again. "I understand your concern," he says softly, "but I promise you that we will do everything in our power to find a solution that allows you to return to your normal self as quickly as possible." He hesitates once more, searching for the right words. "In the meantime, is there anything else I can do to make you more comfortable or help ease your fears?"
"I am... Can you give me a sheet? So that I can't be seen under it..."
Dr. Brennan nods and gets up from his seat to retrieve a blanket from the corner of the room. "Of course," he says gently as he extends it towards you. "You can cover yourself with this if it makes you feel more comfortable." He hesitates for a moment before speaking again, "Do you think there's anything else I could do to make your stay here easier on you?"
As Dr. Brennan asks his question, one of the exoskeleton-clad soldiers enters the room carrying a small plate of snacks and drinks. They carefully place it down on the table in front of you before retreating back into their own corner of the observation room.
I cover myself with a sheet, it burns a little in some places with black liquid from my body, but now I look like a child covered with a sheet with slits for eyes, which no longer looks so creepy, I look at drinks and food. "I..I do not know why, but I am not hungry... never at all..."
Dr. Brennan nods understandingly. "That's quite unusual, but if you ever change your mind about eating, please let us know," he says with a reassuring smile. He glances at the soldiers for a moment before returning his attention to Mira. "Well then, if there's nothing else you need right now... I suppose we can continue our discussion another time."
He gestures towards the two soldiers who were originally tasked with restraining her earlier. One of them moves forward to help her back into a sitting position on the chair, while the other removes the empty plate holding the snacks and drinks from the table. As Dr. Brennan continues to talk softly with Mira, the soldiers escort her out of the room.
The door slides shut behind them, leaving you alone once again in your white prison cell. The silence is almost deafening after spending so much time speaking with someone who seemed to care about your well-being.
A couple of hours pass, Dr. Klaus sits and writes something on the computer, talking with Brennan. "So, what can you say? In details about the object 053."
Dr. Brennan leans back in his chair, considering Klaus's question. "Well, she's quite unique. Her physiology seems to be highly unstable; the black liquid she was exposed to appears to have caused massive cellular degradation and dissociation." He hesitates for a moment. "Her ability to regenerate and resist injury are impressive... perhaps even unheard of."
He pauses, pursing his lips before continuing, "I'm still not entirely sure what caused her father and that other girl to react so violently; it could be some kind of biological response or psychic sensitivity. More research is needed."
"I mean something else. Psychology, background, and everything related to it, what do you think about it all."
Dr. Brennan chuckles, shaking his head slightly. "I'm more of a biologist than a psychologist," he says apologetically. "But considering her behavior during our conversation earlier... she reminds me very much of my own daughter back home. The same innocence and trust." He pauses for a moment before continuing, "Her father and the other girl must have been terrified when they saw what was happening to her."
He sighs heavily, looking at his notes once again. "There's definitely more to this than meets the eye," he says quietly. "And it'll take a team of experts in various fields to unravel the whole story."
"Okay, assign her a child psychologist. If she has any requests, check within reason." Klaus looked up and saw that Brennan looked unusually worried. "Is something wrong?"
"Oh, uh... no, nothing's wrong," Dr. Brennan says quickly, his brow furrowing slightly as he tries to push the concerned expression off of his face. "I was just thinking about her situation and how difficult it must be for her." He hesitates for a moment before continuing, "She reminds me of someone I once knew... that's all."
With an almost visible effort, he forces himself to focus on the task at hand: assigning a child psychologist to Mira. "I'll take care of it," he says decisively. "We'll find someone who can help her through this."
"And one more thing... The management is thinking. that she can be transferred to the Thaumiel class (anomalous objects that can be used to counter other dangerous anomalous objects) with appropriate training and if she is made more loyal to the complex. Remember, we are the SCP foundation and our task is to contain anomalies and study them."
Dr. Brennan nods thoughtfully. "Yes, that's true," he replies carefully, his brow furrowing slightly. "But we need to be extra cautious with her; she's still a child, and her unique abilities make her even more vulnerable." He hesitates for a moment before continuing, "I understand the importance of our mission, but we must also prioritize ensuring her safety and well-being at all costs."
He pauses once again, lost in thought, before finally speaking up. "We'll discuss this further with the management team. I want to make sure that whatever decision is made, it's done with Mira's best interests in mind."
"However, the interests of the foundation should still be higher, don't forget that. Our goals ensure the protection of humanity, and if we have to sacrifice even a child, it will be necessary." With these words, the scientist waved towards the exit. "A new facility is coming to the complex soon, it needs to be neutralized as it is dangerous. The management wants to test object 053 and see if it can handle the elimination."
Dr. Brennan's expression darkens as he listens to your words, a wave of unease washing over him. He knows that the work they do is vital to protecting humanity, but hearing it phrased in such cold and callous terms chills him to the bone. The thought of using Mira as little more than a tool for eliminating a dangerous facility is a step too far; she may be an anomaly herself, but she's still a child first and foremost.
"I understand our responsibility to protect humanity," he says finally, his voice low and tightly controlled, "but we cannot sacrifice innocent lives without cause. I will speak with the management team about this." With that, he turns on his heel and storms out of the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts once again.
Events are shifting back to the camera Worlds. I'm wearing a white sheet now, and I've been given a special one with acid resistance. All this horror with my body is not visible now, I just look like a six-year-old girl in a ghost costume, in the form of a sheet in which holes were made for eyes. Now I'm painting on the table in my big cell and only the operatives are standing at the exit and guarding.
As you paint on the table, you can't help but feel a mixture of emotions. On one hand, it's nice to be able to create something with your own hands; on the other, you can't shake the feeling that you're being watched, studied like some sort of specimen. The presence of the guards at the exit only serve to reinforce this sensation.
Dr. Brennan eventually returns to speak with you, his expression more controlled now but still carrying an air of displeasure. "I want to apologize for how things have been handled so far," he says quietly, taking a seat beside your painting table. "We should have made sure you were more comfortable and informed about what was happening."
He hesitates again before continuing, "Do you still wish to remain here, or would you prefer to return home once this facility has been neutralized?" His words are genuine, but there's still an undercurrent of uncertainty beneath them.
However, Mira was not destined to return home, for obvious reasons, and this was rather a rhetorical question. She no longer has a home except for the complex due to the circumstances, but she did not know about it. "Yes! I want to go back... but..." Even the six-year-old girl herself was already beginning to understand this and accepted it a little. "It's impossible, isn't it...?"
Dr. Brennan sighs heavily, his expression softening as he looks at you. "I'm sorry, Mira," he says gently. "But I cannot lie to you; it is very unlikely that you will ever be able to return home." He pauses for a moment, searching for the right words before continuing, "However, we can make sure that you have a good life here in the complex. We'll take care of you, protect you... and give you everything you need to be happy and safe."
There's a long silence as he studies your face, trying to gauge how you feel about his words. Eventually, he leans closer, speaking quietly once more. "So, what do you say? Would you like to stay here with us?"
"I hope you find my dad..." Protocols prohibited approaching such dangerous objects as Mira closer than 10 meters without special protection.
Dr. Brennan nods solemnly, his expression sympathetic. "I promise you that we will do everything in our power to find your father and ensure that both of you are reunited safely," he says reassuringly. "But until then, please consider this place as your home. We want what's best for you."
He pauses again, studying her face before leaning forward to ruffle her hair gently. It's a fatherly gesture that seems odd coming from him, but it's meant with nothing but kindness. "Now then, why don't we finish your painting and see if there's anything else you'd like to do?"
Dr. Brennan's voice is warm and inviting; he truly wants her to feel at ease here with him. It's a difficult balance for him to strike, but so far it seems to be working.
A voice sounded in Brennan's headphones. "Doctor, protocols forbid approaching the object so close, much less touching it. It's dangerous for your life. Do not do this or you will be taken out." The voice was heard only by the doctor, as it was in his headphones,
Dr. Brennan winces at the warning, feeling a twinge of guilt as he realizes his mistake. "Mira, I'm sorry," he says quickly, moving back to a safe distance from her. "It's just that... I wanted to make you feel more comfortable."
He takes a deep breath, composing himself before continuing, "Now then, why don't we finish your painting and find something else for us to do?" His voice is slightly shaky, but he tries his best to sound reassuring. He knows that his actions violated protocols and could have endangered both of their lives; it's a mistake he won't soon forget.