The lab was silent with the faint echoing of my fingers clattering across the keyboard as I typed. I thought about what Graves said, his disbelief. Something was happening here that was different. I rolled back in my seat pulling out the blank notes and started to write about my encounter with him. I detailed it as best as I could, the way Pray held me, his insistence, his gaze, everything.
My eyes flickered upward and I saw him, his red intense eyes looking at me as usual from across the lab. Even after a few days I was still unsettled by his constant stares. I wasn’t used to this, who would be? Still there had to be a way around this or to drop his interest. The more I thought about it, the more impossible it seemed.
Then after what happened yesterday…I wasn’t certain I could escape his interest. This job wasn’t for me, I knew that much. Even if I felt that way, part of me wanted to see if Pray could be reasoned with. There had to be someone else I could go to. Quickly I started flipping through one of the binders of staff in my sector. I came to Subject 001, the researcher in charge of it was Dr. Nathan Zelman. And another under it, Subject 002’s lead researcher was Dr. Terrance Caldwell. I tilted my head a bit when I saw in brackets (subject 002 deceased). The rest of the documents staff was in more restricted areas, so it seemed I was stuck talking to Dr. Zelman and Dr. Caldwell. One of them had to understand these creatures better than I did.
I took my notebook with the current notes about Pray and walked out the lab. I could feel Pray’s eyes watching my back as I did. He would be fine without me for the time being. Down the metallic hall I soon came across a hallway painted with the numbers 002. Dr. Caldwell must have been here. I peered inside and no one. Lights on however the lab was empty and so was the unit. It was much different than Pray’s no symbols on it. I then moved on until I was at the end of the hall. 001 came into view and here, I heard voices chattering. Sure enough when I got there it had a team of scientists. A stark contrast to my own lab where it was just me.
I swiped my keycard unlocking the door going in. A few heads turned to me. The others seem to be concentrating on their work. I was soon approached by a man, older, ash brown hair and dark eyes. He seemed approachable enough as he nodded walking over to me.
“I’m Dr. Zelman.” He gave a faint smile with his hand stretching out for a hand shake. “What brings you here…Miss?”
“Dr. Collins, I'm the head researcher over Subject 003.” I said with a smile back shaking his hand. Finally someone who didn’t send my stress levels soaring.
“Ah, Pray, unfortunate you’ve been tied to that…specimen,” Zelman said with displeasure in his tone, he turned away walking towards the glass unit that contained Subject 001. I followed close behind and noticed the unit was in complete lockdown, nothing could be seen but the metal walls keeping it closed.
“I take it you understand his nature?”
“Yes. Unfortunately, I had the displeasure of working with one of the previous lead researchers for Subject 003. Before he was killed…”
“Wait… killed?” My eyes widened, a frown forming on my face.
“Yes, Pray either drives them away or… kills whoever studies him,” he said with a bitterness that hinted at terrible memories. “It’s why—and I’m sure you’ve noticed—you work alone.”
“Oh…” I murmured, glancing around the lab at the confident faces and dedicated workers. That was what I’d hoped for, yet it seemed I’d drawn the solo project. “I imagine it’s to reduce casualties.”
“Precisely.” Zelman nodded with a tight-lipped smile. “It also keeps him calm. He doesn’t like too many eyes on him at once—it makes him irritable and prone to outbursts.”
“Yet, he has a staring problem with me,” I said, a hint of irony in my tone.
“Hmm?” Zelman chuckled. “He stares at you?”
“Yes, every night I come in, he’s always watching.”
“An anomalous behavior,” Zelman’s concern was evident as he moved to his metal desk, pulling out a stack of old records on Pray. “Take a look at these.” He pointed to a note, his expression grim. “Indifference, through and through. The creature never cared to engage with anyone or anything.” He glanced up at me. “I assume Graves briefed you on that?
“He did, actually. He said "Pray doesn’t show interest in anyone.”
“Not just anyone—anything,” Zelman clarified. “I helped him learn English, and he picked it up, but he showed little interest in the written language.” He shook his head, fingers brushing over the notes. “But if he’s showing any interest in you, perhaps there’s something you could teach him.”
“You think that’s possible?” Hope laced my voice, the thought that perhaps some trace of humanity could be found within the monster. “That’s actually why I’m here. I wanted to see if there’s any chance of… domesticating Pray.”
Zelman paused, rubbing his mouth and chin thoughtfully. “I’ve thought the same thing myself, and I longed to see some progress.” He sighed. “But he resisted every attempt. However, since he seems focused on you… it might be possible.” His gaze met mine, hopeful but cautious. “But be very careful about what you teach him. He’s never going to see the light of day outside this facility, so there’s no need to expose him to anything that might provoke him.”
“Right…” I said, nodding thoughtfully.
“And beware of his mimicry,” Zelman added, his tone grave.
“Mimicry?” I repeated, uncertain.
“Pray is much more than just… a creature that can emulate appearances,” Zelman muttered, flipping through his notes with a furrowed brow. I watched him, the sterile lights of the lab casting cold shadows over his features. He looked absorbed, almost fascinated, as if he’d uncovered some revelation about the creature we thought we understood.
“What do you mean?” I asked, feeling a knot tighten in my stomach. We were already dealing with enough unknowns when it came to Pray—this didn’t sound like good news.
Zelman didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stopped on a particular page, his finger trailing over a section of notes. “Here,” he said quietly, pointing to his observations. I moved closer, glancing down at the scribbled words that now seemed more like warnings than research.
Subject 003 exhibits more than mere mimicry of language and physical traits. In a controlled setting, after teaching him the basics of English, he began displaying a level of emotional intelligence. The subject demonstrated the ability to pick up subtle emotional cues—particularly vulnerability and uncertainty—in human body language and speech patterns.
I felt a chill creeping up my spine as I read the next part.
Once these cues were detected, Subject 003 mirrored the emotional state to manipulate one of the lab technicians.
“He manipulated someone?” I asked, disbelief thick in my voice. I glanced up at Zelman, but the look on his face confirmed what I feared.
“Yes,” he said, flipping to another page. “He knew exactly what he was doing. During a feeding session, Pray intentionally mimicked the technician’s tone, softening his voice, adjusting his posture—making himself seem… compliant. Almost docile.”
I swallowed, trying to process what I was hearing. The image of Pray, monstrous and deadly, flickered in my mind, but now it was overlaid with something far more terrifying: cunning. Intent.
Zelman tapped the next section of his notes, and I leaned in closer to read:
“It’s something to look out for when teaching him,” Zelman said, his voice tense. “Don’t get me wrong,” he said, softening his voice, “‘I’m not trying to discourage you. No, I would like to see Pray civil and compliant. Just, don’t ever let your guard down with him, he is..a hollow thing wearing a human mask.”
I nodded. There was strength in Zelman’s words, strange as it felt. I knew I had to try, but I also had to be careful not to let Pray take advantage of me. It felt like stepping onto a battlefield I had no chance of winning, yet, for some reason, I didn’t want to give up. If there was any hope of finding something human within Pray, any trace of light in the darkness and bloodshed, maybe I was the one who could uncover it. His fixation might be the key. And now I had a purpose beyond my role at this facility: to guide Pray toward understanding what it means to be human.
With renewed determination, I headed back to my lab. As I reached the door, I noticed it was already unlocked. Odd. I stepped inside and spotted a man hunched over my lab desk, white hair tied back in a low ponytail, glasses perched on his nose, his focus entirely on my notes. Wait—who even was this guy?
“Excuse me… who are you?” I asked, stepping forward with my notebook in hand before setting it down.
He didn’t seem to hear me or even acknowledge my presence. His focus remained on my notes, though he glanced briefly at Pray, who was asleep, resting. But that meant—
“Dr. Collins?” the older man finally spoke, addressing me directly.
“Yeah, that’s me,” I replied, glancing at Pray’s schedule and noticing some tasks had already been marked as completed.
“As you can see,” he finally lifted his gaze and stood up straight. “Pray has already had his sedative that you neglected to give to him.”
“I’m sorry, what? I missed it by fifteen minutes,” I replied, baffled. Who does this guy think he is? He was worse than Dr. Graves.
“I didn’t stutter,” he said flatly. “You missed his injection by fifteen minutes. And because of that, he’s late for bed. If you can’t keep to the schedule, you’re not fit to handle him.”
“First of all, I was gathering information,” I retorted, refusing to back down. “And secondly, is it really that necessary to be so strict? It’s only fifteen minutes.” Who did this guy think he was, barging into my lab like he owned the place?
“For all I know, you could’ve delayed it by a day,” he replied with a dismissive scoff. “You don’t seem very reliable already, Dr. Collins. Maybe you should just go home and not come back.” He lifted his gaze, meeting mine with a look of cold disapproval.
“And who the hell—"
“You don’t belong here,” he interrupted, his tone calm yet chilling. “I have more knowledge and experience with Pray than anyone else in this facility. If you can’t even show up on time for his scheduled needs, then you don’t deserve to be in charge of him.” His words cut like a blade, sharp and precise, digging into my perceived faults. But I wasn’t about to let this pompous man disrespect me.
“Well…” I took a steadying breath, doing my best to control my anger. “If you were meant to be in charge of Pray, you would be.” I forced a sarcastic smile. “Since you aren’t, I see no reason to entertain your lectures on hypotheticals.” Moving past him, I began sorting through the mess he’d made of my notes. I could feel his glare drilling into my back, but I refused to back down. This was my lab, and I was the lead researcher over Subject 003. No one, especially not this stranger, was going to tell me what to do.
As I set down my notes from my conversation with Dr. Zelman, the man reached out and snatched them before I could react.
“You could just ask politely,” I snapped.
“There’s no such thing as polite here,” he murmured, ignoring me as he studied my notes. I just wanted him gone. My frustration mounted as his green eyes scanned the pages with a critical intensity, like a teacher grading a student’s work. Without a word, he pulled out a highlighter and began marking up my sentences, his actions dripping with condescension.
“Yes, go ahead, add to the notes,” I whispered through clenched teeth, seething. The worst part was that I felt helpless to do anything. If I yanked the notes away, it could turn into a physical fight, and with Pray asleep nearby, I’d rather not risk waking him—especially after what he did the other day. My gaze drifted to his glass containment. He was some distance away, and strangely, seeing him so peaceful softened my features. The sleeping beast looked almost… harmless.
“You’ve been recording mating behaviors?” The rude stranger finally spoke, eyes still darting between my notes and his own, comparing them closely.
“Yes. And just who are you, anyway?” I asked, my annoyance clear in my tone.
“Dr. Caldwell,” he replied with a grimace, his gaze settling on me. “You would do well to remember it.” He continued scanning my notes with a skeptical frown, as if weighing every detail against his own records. “I’m also evaluating the accuracy of your observations.”
“It happened,” I snapped, frustration seeping into my voice. “What else do you expect? That I just made it up?”
“Yes,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “It’s not like you’re the first person to make up fibs for a few brownie points.”
I couldn’t stand his presence anymore. Doing my best to ignore him, I turned away, focusing on the tasks at hand. As I looked around, I noticed the samples I’d gathered were already neatly stacked and documented. The specimen notes were flawless. I moved to the fridge and saw all the labels had been rewritten in greater detail, even the filing cabinets relabeled. I let out an irritated grunt. This man, Dr. Caldwell, was like a virus, leaving his mark on everything. At this point, it seemed like he wanted my job more than whatever he was actually supposed to be working on. I’d have given anything to talk to Zelman again, just to avoid this insufferable bastard. But I had to focus—my priority was studying Pray, not worrying about this loon’s interference.
I settled back into my desk, trying to ignore the persistent presence buzzing around me like a fly I couldn’t swat away. Caldwell muttered criticisms under his breath with every movement, an irritating hum of disapproval that clung to the air. Then I noticed Pray was awake; his nap hadn’t lasted long. I shuddered slightly, seeing those red eyes fixed on me as he moved about his containment cell. If only he didn’t stare at me, but then again, Zelman had said this fixation could be to my advantage.
“Huh…?” Caldwell’s audible reaction pulled me from my thoughts. I looked over and saw him staring at Pray, confusion softening his usually shrewd expression, as if he was staring at a foreign object he couldn’t quite understand. “I guess your notes were right about his fixation,” he remarked, glancing from Pray to me.
Finally, someone here acknowledged I was right—even if it had to be him. “So you see, I wasn’t lying after all,” I replied, letting my satisfaction show.
“It’s a strange phenomenon for him, yes,” Caldwell murmured, his gaze drifting back to Pray. “But what does it mean…?”
The question struck me. What did it mean? I hadn’t truly faced that question until now. Sure, he seemed fixated on the mating aspect, but something felt deeper than that. To break a pattern of lifelong indifference just for a mate? It had to mean more, didn’t it? There was something in the way he looked at me—something his cold, expressionless face wouldn’t reveal.
Without warning, the white haired devil moved to the control pad outside the glass containment. He leaned into the microphone, his tone formal as he spoke through the communicator.
“Subject 003, what is your motivation for the sudden change in behavior towards researcher Dr. Collins?”
I held my breath, both intrigued and apprehensive, waiting to see how Pray would respond.
This was something I wanted to know as well. I took a cautious step closer, though a chill crept up my spine. Pray was silent, his eyes shifting just slightly to Caldwell before snapping back to me, barely acknowledging the question. I stopped a few feet from the stairs of the glass unit. Pray’s gaze grew more intense, his body visibly tensing as his hands pressed firmly against the glass. There was no emotion in his face, but a readiness, like an animal prepared to pounce.
Caldwell’s cold gaze on Pray then flickering back to me with interest. “Fascinating…” he said in a whisper watching the interaction.
I hesitated, taking a small step, and noticed Pray mirroring me. He moved just as I did, gliding slightly to the left, then right. Silence fell between us all, broken only by the soft click of my heels. Dr. Zelman was right—Pray was mirroring my movements, perfectly in sync.
“Get closer, Collins,” Caldwell urged, his voice holding a dangerous edge of excitement.
A surge of unease tightened my throat. I met Caldwell’s intense green eyes, feeling the cold weight of his scrutiny. He studied us both as if we were the lab rats in his experiment, dissecting every motion, every breath. “I’m not certain about that,” I replied, fighting to keep my voice steady. “I don’t want to provoke him.”
“Nonsense, you’re safe; the glass won’t break.” His lips curled in a cunning smile as he leaned closer, whispering as though sharing a secret. “Besides, I want to see these… mating behaviors you spoke of.” His intentions were clear—curiosity mingled with suspicion. It was unsettling, watching him treat Pray’s fixation as nothing more than a phenomenon to analyze, another opportunity for knowledge. The criticisms he’d thrown at me earlier still lingered, but now I saw Caldwell’s true priority: his relentless pursuit of insight, regardless of the risk.
Soft, hesitant steps brought me to the edge of the glass, where I paused, unwilling to reach out and touch its cold, unfeeling surface. But Pray grew alert, his red eyes sharpening, nostrils flaring as I closed the distance. A thrill of dread rippled through me as I realized he was taking in my scent through the glass’s tiny perforations, just like before.
The sight of his reaction sent a shiver down my spine. He was closer to me than I’d realized.
“Pray…” I murmured his name in a soft, almost intimate tone, as if hoping I could unravel his secrets just by looking at him. My gaze traced over his face, so eerily human in form. If not for those eyes. Those red infernos—intense, piercing—like staring into the abyss.
And the abyss…looked back at me.
