The observation room was a chaotic symphony of shattering glass and grinding metal. Kaelen was pinned against a rusted console, the Prototype's claws—jagged, surgical steel fused into grey flesh—digging into the meat of his shoulders. The sound was sickening, a wet tearing followed by the groan of the metal desk buckling under the creature's sheer, unnatural weight.
"Kaelen!" Gwen's scream tore through the lab, but the Prototype didn't flinch.
The creature turned its head 180 degrees, its neck clicking with a mechanical rhythm. The red eyes—flat, devoid of pupils, and weeping a dark, oily fluid—locked onto Gwen.
In that gaze, Gwen didn't see a monster. She saw a mirror. The Prototype's skin was the same translucent grey Gwen's became when she channeled the Rot; her veins were the same pulsing black.
"Sister..." the creature hissed, the voice sounding like two stones grinding together.
"Final... model... so... soft."
