Warning: Even when the first few chapters will be relatively light, the subsequent chapters could trigger some people. Themes like torture, human experimentation and even SA of a minor, discretion is adviced.
The Infection Trial
The chamber was eerily silent, save for the faint hum of the overhead lights. Violet and Dash sat restrained in separate chairs, facing each other across the cold, sterile room. The air smelled faintly of disinfectant, a sharp reminder of the clinical detachment of their captors.
The metallic clank of the door opening made them both flinch. Two technicians entered, pushing a cart laden with vials of murky liquid and syringes. Following behind them was the lead scientist, his expression unreadable as he studied the siblings.
"This is Trial 52," the scientist announced, his voice echoing in the chamber. "A live pathogen test. The objective is to evaluate how enhanced immune systems react to infectious agents under suppression. Begin preparation."
Dash's face paled, his eyes darting to Violet. "Pathogens? What does that mean?!"
"It means they're going to infect us," Violet said, her voice calm but tight. "Stay focused, Dash. Don't let them see you scared."
One of the technicians approached Violet, holding a syringe filled with a greenish liquid. She clenched her jaw, staring at the needle as it was brought closer.
"This is for science," the technician muttered, almost to themselves, as they inserted the needle into her arm.
A cold sensation spread through her veins, different from the fiery burns of previous injections. It was slow, deliberate, as though the pathogen was creeping through her body.
Across the room, Dash thrashed in his chair as another technician prepared to inject him. "Get that thing away from me!" he shouted, his voice cracking.
"Hold still, Subject A 001," the scientist commanded, his tone devoid of empathy. "This is a controlled environment. Resistance is futile."
Dash froze as the needle pierced his arm. He winced, a hiss escaping his teeth. "This is insane," he muttered, glaring at the scientist. "You're insane."
The scientist didn't respond. Instead, he turned to the technicians. "Record initial vitals and move them to the observation room. Symptoms should begin within the hour."
A Few Hours Later*
The observation room was small and bare, with two cots separated by a sheet of reinforced glass. Violet lay on one, curled into a fetal position as chills wracked her body. Sweat drenched her hairline, and her breathing was shallow.
Her head pounded like a drum, and her throat felt raw. She coughed, a dry, hacking sound that made her entire chest ache.
On the other side of the glass, Dash wasn't faring any better. He sat on the edge of his cot, clutching his stomach. His face was pale, and beads of sweat dripped down his temples.
"Vi," he rasped, his voice weak. "I... I feel like I'm burning up."
"Me too," Violet murmured, her voice hoarse. She lifted her head slightly, looking at him through the glass. "It's the virus... or whatever they put in us. They're watching to see what happens."
Dash groaned, leaning forward as a wave of nausea hit him. "Why are they doing this? Why can't they just leave us alone?"
"Because we're their experiments," Violet said bitterly. "To them, we're not people. We're just... data."
Dash coughed violently, doubling over as pain shot through his chest. "This... this is worse than anything they've done before," he gasped. "I can feel it, Vi. It's spreading."
Violet tried to sit up, but her limbs felt like lead. Her vision swam as a sharp pain shot through her abdomen, followed by an overwhelming wave of dizziness.
A speaker crackled to life, the scientist's voice cutting through the haze. "Subjects are exhibiting expected symptoms: fever, fatigue, nausea, and respiratory distress. Accelerated onset indicates immune suppression is effective."
"You're killing us!" Violet shouted, her voice cracking.
"Your survival depends on the resilience of your unique biology," the scientist replied coldly. "If you perish, the data will still be invaluable."
"I can't... I can't breathe..." Dash gasped, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Sweat beaded on his forehead as his breathing became increasingly erratic. His eyes flickered in and out of focus, and his hands clenched into fists.
Violet's own body was betraying her. The air felt thick, like she was suffocating. She gritted her teeth, trying to stay calm. The coldness inside her grew, and then—without warning—sharp, stabbing pain shot through her stomach, radiating outward.
She gasped. "Dash... I'm—"
But she didn't finish the sentence. The pain intensified. Her skin burned, then went numb. The sensation spread across her body like fire and ice at once.
"Violet!" Dash cried out, his voice hoarse and panicked. He leaned against his restraints, desperately trying to reach her. "I can't... I can't—"
His body bucked, then went limp. He gasped for air, his muscles tightening in spasm. His heart was pounding erratically, almost painfully, and the tension in his neck and shoulders was unbearable.
"Stay with me, Dash," Violet croaked, though her voice barely made it past her lips. She could feel the coldness creeping into her bones, and her mind was clouding over. Every inch of her felt as though it was being twisted and pulled apart. Her stomach churned violently, and she could feel the sickness rising.
