Shadows slithered along the dull gray walls of the corridor, footsteps echoing off of the linoleum floors. A short, young geneticist fiddled nervously with his glasses while staring at his clipboard. There, stapled beneath the clip, lie a packet of papers…results. Another strode carefully in front of him, leading themselves to a certain room. It was guarded by a thick and heavy metal door, multiple locks and only few had access inside.
"How did Subject 8 fair?" The young man asked; puzzled by the printed information he was reading. "This doesn't make any sense…"
"It faired unusually well," The leading white-coat replied, he stopped in front of the door and gazed distantly through the thick center placed window. "Its output was off the charts. No such thing has ever been seen nor recorded before. Well, except for one…but it never survived." They both stared at what was inside. Behind the claimed invincible one-way glass window, was a person. A female, no more than 15, dressed in a white hospital gown, with long brown hair that curled along the floor. The girl had sickly, pale skin from lack of nourishment…she stared at the opposite wall with a pained expression.
"How long will it stay?" The first asked warily, "Nothing good has come from it since it arrived."
"Dover, you know that they won't take her-it back. Trust me, we'll just run a few more tests over the next few months and maybe let those…things have it." The second geneticist turned with a careless wave of his hand. "It'll either prove to be a successful recombinant or a complete failure over that time period." The first, Dover, relaxed slightly, but couldn't resist the temptation of asking one more question. He followed the first down the hall.
"What would that make today then?" The first stopped, then, slowly turned with a look of defeat.
"The fact that its results were so far off the charts could mean things of catastrophic outcomes in the future. Unless we find a way to stabilize or draw these enormous bursts from it, the only thing left to do is annihilate it completely."
"What if it gets free?"
"Then, if there is a God, help us all."
"The test was completed with flying colors." Intoned a white-coat; she was older, around the age of thirty. She carried a list of results from the few of many, many tests that went into plan 36 hours ago. Her once neat bun was a mess and bags were under her eyes. Beside her there walked a few others, who wheeled a stretcher with someone on it. It was the girl; she hurriedly sipped through a tube they offered her before pulling the water away. Her breaths were heavy and labored, and ferocious dark circles shadowed her eyes. The female scientist watched with disgust, 'Such a pathetic creature…' she voiced inwardly. The stretcher guided the group through double doors into a blinding white room.
"Is the operating table prepared?" She asked, not caring either way. All that mattered was finding a way to harness that thing's power, that's all it was good for.
"Yes ma'am, shouldn't we put her under anesthesia before we do this?" One scientist asked. They picked her up as if she were made of glass and laid her onto the cold, unforgiving metal. Disgusting.
"Why should we dose it? It's a thing, it doesn't feel." The woman replied coldly, as if the girl weren't existent. The girl shifted, tears beginning to stream down her face as a scientist withdrew a large needle. "Let's get this over with so I can go get some coffee." The female approached with quick footsteps before pinning the subject's head to the side of the table and dabbing her neck with a sterilizing agent. She started to thrash and whimpered as she clenched her teeth and gripped the sides of the table with enough force to break her fingers. "Hold it steady!" she yelled. The scientists scrambled, one pinning her shoulders and the other holding her ankles. The older woman bit the plastic tip off the needle before plunging it into the vein of the girl's neck. Her mouth opened in a silent scream but only a small cry bubbled up. Blood filled the tube and eventually, her struggled thrashing ceased all together. The group breathed hard as procedure drew to a close. The woman withdrew the needle and ran her fingers through her messed hair and sighed, "It's done. Throw it back in confinement." She turned to leave the room before halting.
"Oh and…," she began behind without turning her head, "…clip it's wings. Prepare it for the final phase."