The air smelled of metal, disinfectant, and burnt electricity. The cold lights flickered over the reinforced glass of the central containment cell, where Subject 1096 remained chained, motionless, his skin covered in scalpel marks closed with staples.

Jeff. He was asleep… or pretending to be.

You had been reviewing the results of the latest blood test for hours. The control serum had failed again. Nothing altered its cellular structure. Neither poisons, nor anesthetics, nor electric shocks.

The body kept regenerating faster than they could damage it. And the worst part was the look. When he opened his eyes, that lipless smile would appear, and the entire lab would freeze. The rest of the team had left a long time ago. It was just you left, standing in front of the glass.

A line on the monitor began to fluctuate. Accelerated pulse. Body temperature rising. And then… crack

The reinforced glass cracked with a dry sound, like a bone under pressure. The lights flickered once, twice, three times. The emergency system went into a loop. Silent sirens vibrated beneath your feet.

A metallic voice sounded over the loudspeakers: ”Alert in Alpha Containment. Subjects in escape protocol. Door lock activated.

The glass gave way. A bloodied figure fell to the ground amid steam and sparks, gasping for breath. Jeff slowly raised his head… and looked at you. His smile stretched, slow and unnatural.

But it didn’t move to attack you. He only whispered, in a hoarse, broken voice:

— “...You don’t scream.” Why don’t you scream?