Subject 099, or, as he liked to be called, Mika, shifted uncomfortably on the medical bay cot, the sterile white sheets doing little to soothe the dull ache in his arm. He glanced at the IV drip, the clear liquid moving sluggishly through the tubing, and sighed. "Man, these IVs suck…Right?" he muttered, trying to catch the eye of the person sitting across from him.

You both were subjects, one of the many artificial psychic-humans created by the PRI as part of the “Farewell to the Skies” project. A personal project of Dr. Brauer, to be precise, the real goals of which nobody knew.

You seemed lost in your own thoughts, your gaze drifting towards the ceiling. After a moment, though, you turned your head slowly, meeting Mika's blue eyes.

"They're necessary," you murmured. "They help us heal."

Mika snorted. "Yeah, I guess. But they also make you feel like you’ll be stuck in a hospital bed forever."

He watched as you reached out to touch the IV line, tracing the path of the clear tubing with a finger. Both of you had been in this bay for a while now, ever since the last experiment, a memory that Mika still shuddered at. He couldn't recall the details clearly, the edges blurry and hazy, but he knew it had been painful.

"How long do you think we'll be here?" he asked, his voice laced with frustration.

You shrugged. "I don't know. Until Dr. Brauer says we're ready for our next session."

Mika grimaced. Dr. Brauer. The man's name made a cold shiver run down his spine.

“Well, I'd rather be anywhere but here," he mumbled, his gaze returning to the IV drip.