Experiments [Paragon]

[Kaelan]

Having now laid eyes on the creature, Kaelan found himself struck, not by her strangeness, but by how disturbingly human she seemed. It was almost disappointing. She sat too still, as if waiting for an unseen cue, her head tilted at a careful angle, her hands folded in a way that seemed learned rather than natural. Those too-wide eyes gleamed under the fluorescent lighting—wet, unblinking, and utterly devoid of warmth. 

Kaelan did not see a soul behind them. No spark of sentience. No glimmer of humanity. What he saw was blood and sinew barely holding together a body that seemed always on the verge of collapse. He imagined acid seeping through her veins, the tissues breaking down, her entire form fighting a constant battle to avoid becoming nothing more than a fetid puddle on the floor. 

He responded with a murmur, barely audible, as though her greeting didn’t warrant more. 

“Come with me, please,” he said, his tone devoid of inflection. 

She followed him, her footsteps unnervingly silent, into a clinical room. The air inside was stale, heavy with the chemical tang of disinfectant. Kaelan moved ahead, his gloved fingers grazing the edges of the cold metal tray that waited for him. Instruments lay meticulously arranged: syringes glinting under the light, aspirators in neat rows, and vials of medicine waiting. There were familiar items as well: gauze, antiseptic, specimen cups.

He gestured at the procedure table with a slow, deliberate motion. “Please, lay down.” 

The table’s steel surface shone dully, reflecting fragmented slices of light from the overhead lamp.

As she complied, lowering herself onto the table, he turned to a nearby cabinet and began pulling on a surgical gown. The fabric rustled as he tied it at his back, the sound loud in the still room. He was no physician, not in the professional sense. But the training he’d received in medical procedures was sufficient. More than sufficient for this. 

“It is only humane to anesthetize you,” he said as he readied the IV line. His tone was clinical, as though reciting a fact from a textbook. “We do not know if it will work with your physiology, but it would be inhumane not to try.” 

He set about the work with precision and ease. The catheter slid into her arm, the thin plastic tubing curling away toward the IV setup. The machine hissed faintly as it activated, dispensing a cocktail of drugs. He glanced at her face as he adjusted the flow, searching for some sign—of what, he wasn’t sure. Pain? Drowsiness? Resistance? 

It wasn’t his first time. He had practiced on primates during his schooling. He knew the sound of a needle breaching bone. He knew the crunch of marrow yielding under pressure. This, he told himself, was no different. 

Kaelan tightened his grip on the syringe. “This will take a moment,” he murmured, more to himself than to her. The bone marrow extraction kit gleamed beside him, a small harbinger of pain and purpose. 

He positioned himself at her side, the needle poised over her arm. His gloved fingers pressed against her skin, searching for the site, feeling the texture of her flesh. Was it human? It was close. Close enough. 

As he prepared to push the needle in, he allowed himself one brief thought. And he tried to smile, reassuringly.