Chapter Text
| Date: March 12, ⬛⬛⬛⬛
The video flickered on slowly, the camera refocusing after a few seconds. A masked person stood before it, and its audio caught the shuffling noises as the feed shook slightly. After a few seconds, it was propped slightly higher, and the masked person pulled back. They tapped on it once, glancing at something behind it. The masked person nodded and walked away.
The feed readjusted again, revealing a room of average size at best, mostly barren white space. The walls were covered in a padded texture, the floors immaculately cleaned to the point that they gleamed back at them. In the middle of the room stood a giant metal table, slightly inclined upwards.
A redhead was propped against the table, his arms tucked in front of him, black straps taping his arms together, pinning his waist, and even his legs to the cold surface. His skin seemed unnaturally pale, as if he'd hardly ever stepped outside. The paleness was disrupted by a pattern painted on his skin, briefly peeking out from the restraints, as if it were inked tattoos. Its design was shaped like vines wrapping around his arms and legs in perplexing patterns.
Despite his neatly trimmed hair, two strands stood out as white. The strands were curled into an almost heart-shaped form. The redhead was dressed in a teal gown, similar to those worn in hospitals. Two long black strands rested on his shoulders, tracing all the way onto his nape. On camera, they seem like nothing more than hair ties or even a ribbon of sorts.
His slate blue eyes flicked towards the camera, staring at it absentmindedly.
Another person came into view, their long lab coat fluttering behind them as they approached him with leisurely steps. Their gloved hands swiftly removed the straps before hastily stepping back.
The metal straps slowly opened with a creaking hiss. The young man blinked but remained rooted in his spot. His posture was rigid, a string waiting to snap. He tilted his head as he looked around the room. A few hums filled the room, pens clicking, following soon after.
"Subject A."
The redhead lifted his head, looking at the person addressing him behind the camera. The voice was sharp and straightforward, its pitch suggesting it was a woman.
"Please step off the platform." She instructed. The young man scrunched his nose, glancing at the ground again in hesitation. Slowly, he lowered his foot before recoiling. When he finally jumped down, he yelped, a shiver running through his body as if the platform was freezing.
"Very good." The woman praised. The redhead's eyes gleamed, and the black strands by his nape perked up as if responding as well. They twitched, almost as if alive. After all, they weren't ribbons holding his hair together but vines hanging from his neck. Another pen click echoed.
"Subject A, is there a reason for your uncharacteristic muteness?" asked a different person, voice slightly deeper. He looked at something, or rather, someone, to his right.
He furrowed his eyebrows, maintaining eye contact with whoever was off camera. "Apologies, I wasn't sure if I was permitted to speak." The redhead replied stiffly. Faint murmurs echoed, never enough to catch whatever was said between them. He pressed his lips together, the vines hovering over his ears, lowering slightly.
He didn't dare move, as though patiently waiting for a command of sorts.
"We wish to conduct a check-up. This one differs from your physical ones as we're aiming to see your abilities."
"We haven't done a trial in months, though?"
"Well, yes, something came up. Your first goal is to avoid touching any of us while using your vines at full force. Any contact with us will be treated as a failure. Is that understood?"
"I understand."
"Good, you may begin."
The redhead lifted his hands, the vine-like markings on his arms glowing. They began to move, slithering around his arms, until vines bursting from what had been mere etchings before. They split into three vines, stretching across the room. They flew past the scattered scientists, hovering as far away from them as they could, before retracting to repeat the process.
The test continued, and yet, the scientists showed no signs of asking him to slow down or even stop. The pounding continued, the aim growing less precise, until eventually, the vines slithered back into mere tattoos. The leaves painted on his skin seemed almost to have shriveled. He took a shaky breath as he lowered his hands.
"45 minutes… Your timing has improved by five minutes since our last test," Someone off-camera spoke. The redhead nodded, his chest heaving. "Five minutes isn't enough for the goals we've set up for you." The voice reminded, and the young man tensed. His hands balled into fists by his side, bowing his head slightly.
"Apologies, I shall ensure to train harder."
"We have high hopes for you, Subject A. We've invested heavily in your future, and we only wish to see you succeed."
"Of course."
"Good. Strap subject A back down. We have to transfer the subject to the training facilities-"
The footage cut.
Log 140#-
Subject A's improvement has seemed to hit a dead end as of late. In earlier years of research, the subject cleared requests and improved at a faster rate than the new visible speed. We often called subject A a prodigy in this regard. Our research indicates four possible causes: bodily growth, mental exhaustion, burnout, or even failure regarding Subject A's DNA. It has been quite some time since the subject last went under. If the last theory is supported, the subject may have to undergo another procedure.
| March 25, ⬛⬛⬛⬛
The footage cut to a different room, with padded walls much like the last one. These walls, however, were punctured with holes that broke their illusion of perfection. They varied in size, but all seemed to have been pierced by a sharp, circular object. Pressed against the wall was an examination table, its darker hue unable to hide the mysterious stains. The redhead sat in the middle of the table, his posture perfect and his hands resting on his lap.
"How are we feeling today, Subject A?" A voice asked behind the camera, followed by faint shuffling and the rumble of wheels turning. "I heard you had another examination. So soon? How was it?" They asked.
"I feel fine…"
"You didn't answer my last question."
"I'm not permitted to disclose test results without prior permission."
"Hm… I am, of course, already privy to this information.." The person pushed a cart beside the redhead. They walked around him, tugging up a blue mask. "So I suppose you passed your surprise quiz. It's good to see that you're learning." The words were curt, straightforward. The person returned to his side, staring down the vines hanging by the young man's shoulders. They muttered something under their breath, poking it lightly. He winced slightly, his features contorting.
"Sensitive nerves, it seems… Are you able to grow these?"
"I've never been able to manipulate their size since their appearance. Not like the ones I've been able to summon before." The vines lifted as if to prove a point. They rose to hover beneath his ears, swaying side to side before settling back down.
"And they haven't grown any longer since our last check-up…" The person walked off, moving towards the table. Slate blue eyes followed their steps, watching as their hand hovered over the various tools on the table. He crumpled the sheet of paper beneath him as the person turned towards him. "Lay down, we'll deal with the longest test first," they hummed as they picked up a scalpel.
The footage fizzled out, and by the time it returned, two hours had passed on its timer. The redhead lay on the examination table, chest heaving. He clutched his chest as he turned over, eyes lidded, and his skin almost sickly pale. His hair was slightly damp with sweat. He tilted his head, hissing with a shiver. He pushed himself off, the vine he'd been lying on limper than the other, a bandage wrapped around it.
The masked person returned into frame, a plant in hand. They placed it by his side before moving back, the faint sound of rushing water following. He swallowed, gently brushing his hand against the stem. Slowly, the plant began to droop and wither. Its lively green was drained away until it became a mere whisper of its former self, a leaf fluttering down by his hand. The young man pushed himself upright, his eyes more full of life than before. He didn't hold that sickly complexion anymore; his breath had started to even, as if he'd regained his life again.
He picked the fallen leaf up, staring at it closely as its faded green began to return. His eyes dropped slightly, brushing his thumb across its surface. A hand shot out and grasped his wrist. He jolted, eyes wide.
"How long have you known you could do this?"
Log #150-
For the longest time, Subject A was believed capable of draining plants of their life to restore the subject's depleted energy. While undergoing a routine check-up, the subject was caught returning energy to a plant. Based on this discovery, we conducted various trials, in which we learned that the subject could also revive plants of varying sizes at the cost of their own energy.
Subject A may be able to adapt better stamina to regrow barren lands. Perhaps even restore people. Investigation pending.
| March 29, ⬛⬛⬛⬛
"Case study number 117, trial ten."
The redhead sat in frame, and a metal table ensured only the upper half of his body was clear. He remained as rigid as before, staring at the emptiness before him, rather than the camera filming him.
"How are you feeling?" Someone asked, prompting him to look up. His eyes strayed towards the camera, their shine duller than before. He seemed weaker, as if something had drained his energy before he could even speak.
"I can still proceed with the test." He insisted. He opened his mouth to speak again, but the audio began to distort and fizzle. The feed itself changed speed, sometimes even fizzling out, and not returning until after a minute had passed. By the time it returned, the redhead furrowed his eyebrows as a drop of sweat dripped down his neck, his hands hovering around an arm resting on the table. His markings glowed a faint white alongside the palms of his hands.
"Subject A, you have to heal their wound."
"I'm trying!" He called back, the glow strengthening, but nothing changed. The blood kept seeping.
"Subject A-"
"I can't!" The redhead pleaded, slamming his hands onto the table. His eyes widened, pinned on his failure.
"The cut isn't grave. How were you able to amend a papercut but not this?"
"I'm trying to pour energy but-"
"You're delaying important studies, Subject A."
"I… I can't! I can't heal their wound!" He repeated frantically. He doubled over, clutching his stomach as a cold sweat enveloped him. He clutched his jaw before covering his mouth. He coughed, turning away-
The camera feed cut.
Log #155
Subject A refused to cooperate any further. The head doctor has been paged in hopes that his behavior will improve. He always did seem rather fond of her. Keep monitoring behaviors in case of rebellion.
| April 14, ⬛⬛⬛⬛
"She's here?" The young man asked as the camera flickered back on. The cut seemed choppy, as if something had been deleted before it. But whatever it was, the tapes couldn't salvage it.
He was back in the room from the first tape, strapped to the metal table. Bound. Restricted.
"Yes, last I checked, you're not deaf." They confirmed as they began to undo the bindings holding him down. A guard approached from behind, holding large metal cuffs. The redhead obediently held his wrists out without thinking twice, watching as they snapped onto his wrist. He kept them by his chest, watching as people poured out of his room one by one.
Eventually, he was alone.
He stood by the door, never showing any indication of wanting to sit down. The limited space made it clear that even if he wanted to, he'd have to settle for the cold ground.
A faint beep rang out, and footsteps followed. They echoed for a bit before a woman entered the frame. Her dull red hair was wrapped in a bun, two smaller strands sticking out by her cheeks. She donned a white buttoned lab coat like everyone else, dark-colored pants, and comfortable shoes for the setting. A long lanyard was hung on her neck, one that the others never wore.
"Hello, Head Doctor." The young man bowed his head slightly. The woman hummed with approval, gesturing for him to follow. She walked towards the metal table, flicking a few buttons. A low whirring sound echoed in the room as it began to tilt back until it lay horizontal.
She sat on the cold surface, patting for him to follow. Without hesitation, he sat a few inches by her side. "I've seen your improvements, and I must say, I'm impressed." The woman praised, gesturing for him to turn around. He turned his back to her, inching closer. She poked his back, and he stopped.
She pulled a comb out of her pocket, brushing through his disheveled hair. "Seems these people don't listen when I say you need to be kept in pristine state," She complained, tugging down. The redhead winced at the tug but bit his tongue. He swallowed as he laced his hands together tightly.
"To be pristine is to be perfect." He muttered, and the woman's lips curled into a smile.
"And what is perfection?"
"Obedience. Power. Intelligence."
"Correct again. My, you've certainly changed throughout all these years." Her hand slowed to a stop, the comb lingering in his hair. The woman leaned in, her lanyard hanging by her side. "Do you know why we do this?" She asked abruptly, voice low.
"…I was created to help." The young man answered, looking back over her. "My powers are meant to bring advancements. Failure means harming the future we aspire to bring." He recited like a well-taught machine. His eyes were sharp, determined in the truth spoken to him. The woman chuckled slightly, gesturing for him to turn away. She went back to brushing his hair, the movements carefully and precisely, it almost went against the room they were in.
"Your creation is a blessing. But some don't see that way…"
"What?"
"Oh yes… I've mentioned it before, haven't I?"
"I don't seem to recall."
"It's quite all right. You see, we have six other subjects in our building, but they seem to have trouble adjusting." She put the comb to the side, clearing her throat. He instantly turned around to face her properly, placing his hands on his lap as he stared at her with a puzzled expression. Her lips curled as she saw the gleam in his eyes.
"After some long discussions, we've decided cross-contact might be needed. Show them that we don't wish them harm and how nice it is to be obedient."
"You want me to show them how they can help?"
"Yes. Do you believe yourself capable of it?"
"It's my duty."
"Correct again. Remember, Riddle, you are to discipline the disobedient. You are to help them realize our rules aren't meant to harm, but to help them. Do you understand?"
"Yes, m-"
The camera cut off.
Log #170-
The Head Doctor was cleared for a visit to attempt to coerce Subject A into obedience training with fellow subjects. The operation was successful, and the subject seems eager to participate in the exchange. Our head doctor has given the subject the name Riddle; she's made it clear that only she may refer to Subject A by that nickname.
Alarms blared as the room was bathed in red flashing lights. People ran around the room, barking orders or pressing buttons haphazardly. The door slid open, and the woman from previous footage stormed in with a huff. "What the hell is going on here?" she asked, her voice eerily quiet.
"Head Doctor!" Someone rushed to her side, bowing frantically. Everyone else's attention remained glued to the control panel, or to the large window above it that took up half the wall. "Th-The subjects are out of hand! They're not cooperating!" The person pleaded. The woman's eyes narrowed, storming over. She watched as a vine slammed against the window, causing it to shudder from the sheer force. A roar echoed shortly after, followed by hissing and more banging.
She walked toward the control panel, shoving the other scientist aside. The woman muttered under her breath and typed hastily onto the keyboard. The room was filled with bated breaths, the slamming, screaming, and nonsensical noise on the other side of the wall growing louder to an almost piercing pitch. She slammed her hand on a red button, and panels opened from the other side of the window. It began to spew a gas, fogging the window as protesting wails were heard. The sounds began to fade into silence, alarms quieting, and the lights flashed for a final time.
A hush fell over the room as the head doctor turned to face them; despite her persistently calm expression, the murderous rage in her eyes was clear.
"Transfer the subjects to their respective rooms. I want a detailed report. Consider this project annulled." She spat, storming past them. She paused by the camera, snatching it with a huff.
"Head Doctor! Wait, please, wait!" Someone pleaded as they chased after her. The doctor let out a heavy sigh, speeding her pace. "You can't cancel the project like this! We need Subject A as much as the other subjects!" They insisted as they slowed to a stop beside her. The woman spun to face them, the camera catching only the corridors filled with metal-clad doors.
"What do you want me to tell the director if another failure happens? What then?" She reminded coldly. "This project is deemed a failure, and Subject A is to be removed from it at once."
"Doctor, you must understand-"
"How many times will I have to explain it to you?!"
"Please, you must understand, subject A's obedience may be able to encourage fellow-"
"No! For the last time, no!" The woman snapped with a near scream. She yanked a clipboard from the other's hands, ignoring their protest. "That mess in there? Proved to me that none of you are capable of training anyone. That fight could've been deadly, or even caused a breakout. This is more than seventeen years of research."
"But-"
"Besides… what the others do is none of our business. The whole purpose was to be split into separate experimental teams. How they get their subjects to obey is their issue, but starting from today, Subject A is strictly forbidden to interact with any other subjects."
"Doctor, if I may-!"
"My decision is final. If you keep arguing, I will have you fired and your license revoked. Are we understood?" She threatened. A hush filled the room once more, neither breaking it.
"…Yes, doctor."
"Good. Dispose of this, will you? No need for further evidence against us."
Date: April 24,⬛⬛⬛⬛
"I told you letting it get in contact with the others would make it insufferable." Someone muttered under their breath. The room seemed smaller than ever, only making room for a table and a chair. The remaining space was left mostly barren, save for a speaker and a window attached to the other end of the wall. It showed a few scientists roaming around the room, clipboards in hand or focusing on where the redhead sat.
He folded his arms, glaring at the can across from him. Seconds passed, and then minutes, but he refused to budge. One scientist rolled their eyes, leaning forward, pressing something out of sight. "Did you hear our instructions? We need to conduct some research, and your disobedience isn't helping," they complained.
"Why haven't I seen the others?"
"That information isn't ours to disclose. Return your attention to the task at hand."
"I want answers."
"Subject A, as I said, refocus, and please pierce the can."
The young man stared at them, unmoving. The group paused their movements, their attention shifting to the scene happening at hand.
"Subject A." The person repeated in a firmer voice as the mic cut out slightly. His eyes flicked back towards the grouped scientists, every gaze focused on him alone. "Pierce the can," they ordered in a sterner tone. The redhead peeked back at the can before turning away again.
"Subject is unresponsive. Release the-"
The feed glitched as his eyes slid towards the camera, but not enough to miss a muffled scream. The video feed flickered back on, static interrupting it every so often. He was hunched over the table, panting, bangs shielding his eyes. He shakily lifted his head, staring at the can with wide eyes.
"Subject A, please pierce the can."
A vine burst out of the young man's back, spearing through the tin in an instant. The liquid exploded everywhere, splashing him with its sugary contents. It dripped down his soaked hair, mixing with the small, almost unnoticeable drop sliding down his cheek. Polite clapping filled the room, but the redhead's eyes remained focused on the pierced can. The vine slowly pulled out, allowing the damaged goods to fall onto the ground.
Log #160-
'Subject A became insubordinate while undergoing typical training exercises. The subject even implies it holds the right to know private information about case studies. After refusing to cooperate, various encouragement programs were implemented to ensure the best results for two hours. Although this seemed to be a temporary solution, the subject became unruly after returning to containment.'
| Date: May 6, ⬛⬛⬛⬛
"If the goal was aimed at encouraging obedience, why is it being cut off now?" Riddle asked, glaring at the person behind the camera. The person slid a paper towards him, his eyes scanning its contents swiftly. He was designed for one purpose. He was given a chance to convince the others that life here wasn't bad.
They just had to adapt.
"I followed every rule as you told me." Riddle glanced up from the paper, his eyes darkening.
"Unfortunately, due to some… concerns, the project has been ordered to be cancelled. As such, you are no longer allowed to communicate with the other subjects. Hostility was too easily ignited among each other."
"You told me to follow the rules and your protocols."
"Well, yes, we did say that. But we have to acknowledge the direct orders and thus, return you to solitary-"
"I don't understand. You told me I have to follow along, why am I being punished for behaving as told?" Riddle interrupted, clutching the table with a knuckle-white force. He had followed every last order, every last instruction. They couldn't lock him away again. He doesn't want to go back. He doesn't want to be alone anymore.
"The containment issues became too risky to ignore." They answered. Riddle's gaze flicked forward, staring with vacant eyes. He didn't even blink; the vines on his neck twitched ever so often. The redhead's breathing began to quicken, and it became clearer he wasn't listening anymore. His gaze turned to the person behind the device.
"You… You're disobeying direct orders." The redhead abruptly whispered.
"Excuse me?"
"I was given direct orders. You cannot override them."
"Subject A, the project was cancelled. You are-"
"No!" He screamed as he slammed his hands onto the table. His face flushed bright red, the sound of fabric ripping echoing. "You're disobeying a direct command! I have to follow protocol," the redhead clutched his head as he stumbled back. He groaned as he doubled over, gritting his teeth. Black vines burst out of his back at an overwhelming rate, growing faster than they could be contained. Red lights flashed inside the room, alarms blaring, Riddle covering his ears as he stumbled around.
A vine pierces through the lens, killing whatever remaining footage it could've gotten.
Log #175
Subject A experienced a meltdown after being informed that Project Nourishment was officially canceled. The subject went rogue for an hour before the containment unit's capture. Despite attempts to reason with, even by the hands of the Head Doctor, Subject A remained unstable.
-
Retraining and reconditioning have been approved. Time expected: 2 hours per day.