Dear Ex-wife Marry Me by Twin Bridge

lan shifted his gaze away, finally letting it rest on the grand hall at the very center. The hall had only a few cracks through which

one could glimpse the activity below, where rows of researchers were busy crunching numbers and processing data.

"Have we got the creature's vitals yet?"

"How's Specimen 1 today? Was the breeding attempt successful?"

"Specimen 3 is dead. Have someone clean up the carcass."

To these researchers, the beings behind the glass were mere subjects, devoid of humanity.

"Specimen 5's skin is completely necrotic - the virus is a triumph. It's ready for field deployment."

"Ah, I can't take this anymore! Just letdie; please letdie. I can't be part of these experiments any longer. God, I'm a sinner;

I'm bound for the deepest pit of hell!"

The hall fell silent in an instant following this frenzied outburst, tension hanging heavy in the air. Then the largest door swung

open, and a man in uniform stepped through. He was young, around twenty-eight, with leather boots that spoke of a certain

aloofness.

The atmosphere in the hall turned leaden as the man let out a derisive chuckle and approached the screaming researcher.

The researcher was shaking uncontrollably, and the man grabbed his hair, his tone icy.

"I've said it before - no disturbing the peace."

prostrated himself on the ground,

sorry; it's my

man simply pressed his

Specimen 3 dead? Toss him

man wanted to turn the researcher into a test

especially not when the man appeared. Everyone bowed their heads, quietly

presence was oppressive, a mountain

our strongest toxin;

as someone deferentially placed a chair

he watched

chamber, and as white smoke filled the glass

dissolve, yet he did not die. Instead, he stared vacantly ahead as blood pooled at his feet. He

his teeth fell

"ARI

“AI

cry, more blood

within the hall; if one looked closer,

their experiments at five in the morning and continued until two in the next morning. Slackers

test subjects themselves.

the fate of the subjects scared

of living in this place

deprivation left its mark; they moved like zombies, now accustomed to

them.

they continued numbly, fearing they might be next. The man in the uniform