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Sico watched her, the quiet weight of anticipation pressing against his chest. This was more than science. It was responsibility. Ethics. Necessity. And yet, despite the gravity, despite the moral stakes, despite the tension, they were ready.
The quiet hum of the lab seemed to thrum louder as distant footsteps and muted voices approached along the corridor outside. Sico's hand drifted to the side of his holster, not out of expectation of combat, but out of habit with a reminder that even within these walls, the wasteland could intrude.
Through the small observation window in the reinforced lab door, he could make out the approaching figures: Sarah's team, disciplined and silent, leading three prisoners. Their heads were bowed, hands bound behind their backs, chains rattling softly with each step. The prisoners' boots clinked faintly against the steel floor plates of the hospital corridor. Two of them were familiar faces, roughened by weeks of captivity, their expressions a mixture of exhaustion, anger, and wary calculation. The third was new, wild eyed, probably fresh from a recent skirmish.
Sico's jaw tightened slightly, not out of disdain, but because the weight of necessity pressed down harder in that moment. These men or rather, these raiders were here to serve a purpose that neither they nor anyone outside this lab could fully understand yet.
"Steady," he murmured, mostly to himself, though Curie turned slightly at the low sound.
The lab door hissed open again as the prisoners were guided inside. Sarah's team moved like shadows, silent and efficient, placing themselves between the prisoners and the rest of the lab. The three raiders shuffled forward, restrained but alert, their eyes darting to every glimmering instrument, every bright vial, every indicator light blinking across the room. Their breaths were sharp, uneven, the smell of sweat and earth clinging to them, a faint reminder of the world outside that chaotic, brutal, raw.
Curie stepped forward, adjusting her gloves, her voice soft but steady, almost musical, cutting through the tension without breaking it.
"Bonjour," she said gently, tilting her head slightly. "You are… welcome here. Please… do not resist. No harm… will come to you beyond what is necessary for the procedure."
The prisoners' heads turned in unison, wary and suspicious. One of them, the older man with deep lines carved into his face, snorted softly. "Yeah? And why should we trust you, lady? Ain't nobody coming in here to play nurse with us."
Curie's smile was small but genuine, her eyes softening as she took a careful step closer, yet maintaining a safe distance. "I do not ask trust. Only… compliance. This is for science. It is… protective. For the future. For your people, yes, even yours."
The younger prisoner, a wiry man with jagged scars across his forearms, spat at the floor. "Protective for who? You lot? Freemasons Republic? You call this protection?"
Sico's hand drifted slightly, not threatening, but close enough to intervene if necessary. His voice cut softly, deliberately calm. "It's not punishment. It's controlled. Observation only. You will not be harmed beyond the testing."
Curie's eyes flicked to Sico briefly, then back to the prisoners. She didn't waver. She moved with slow precision toward the first prisoner, the older man who had spoken, and crouched just slightly so her eyes met his. She held out a gloved hand gently, as if she were trying to soothe a frightened child.
"Please," she said, her voice carrying that peculiar calm authority, "we will proceed slowly. The first step… is simply preparation. I will guide you. I ask… only that you remain calm. That is all."
The prisoner hesitated, his chest rising and falling unevenly, eyes narrowing in suspicion. He could see the machine in the corner, the vials neatly arranged, the screens displaying data he couldn't begin to comprehend. Yet, something in Curie's soft, deliberate movements with the careful, precise nature of her preparations that tugged at a part of him that had been dulled by the wasteland.
Sico stepped forward subtly, his presence silent but firm. "I'll hold him steady," he said quietly. "Minimal restraint, just enough for observation."
The prison guard behind the older man moved closer, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder, guiding him toward the examination table. Curie adjusted the biometric scanner above the table, the small screen flickering to life, wires dangling gently, ready to measure vitals as soon as the subject was seated.
The older man's shoulders tensed, and for a moment, Sico could see the weight of every choice with the morality of forcing someone to participate in an experiment, even a controlled one, pressing against him. He took a slow breath. Necessity, yes. Morality, yes. But also hope. Curie's work could save hundreds, maybe thousands. That thought, thin but present, steadied him.
"Please, place your hands on the armrests," Curie said softly, guiding the prisoner to sit. "I will begin… gently. You will feel nothing more than the touch of the instruments. The medicine… is small. Measured. Safe. Monitored."
The older prisoner glared at her for a long, tense moment, then slowly lowered his arms, gripping the armrests tightly. The younger prisoner watched silently, shifting uneasily, while the third remained entirely still, wild eyes darting between every reflective surface.
Curie's fingers moved with deliberate precision over the vial she had chosen, checking the measurement, the color, the consistency. "The prototype," she whispered, almost to herself, "must be exact. Too much… too little… unstable. Precision… always."
Sico leaned slightly, his gaze following her movements. Every decision was deliberate: the dosage, the angle, the injection site, the timing. The hum of the machine behind her provided a steady counterpoint to the tension in the room.
"Ready," she murmured finally, glancing at Sico. "If all goes as intended, we will observe the effects slowly. Monitored at every second. The sensors… they will guide us."
Sico gave a small nod. "I'll hold him steady. No surprises."
The older man flinched slightly as the nurse-adjusted armrest settled, but Curie's calm presence, her careful instructions, and Sico's steady grip all combined to temper his panic. She tapped the biometric scanner lightly, the screens flickering to life, recording heart rate, blood pressure, skin conductivity, subtle neurological responses.
"Relax your shoulders," she instructed softly, voice rhythmic and measured. "Breathe. In… and out. That is it. Very good."
The prisoner's chest rose and fell as he attempted to follow her directions, the tension slowly bleeding from his body. He wasn't smiling. He wasn't convinced. But he wasn't resisting either.
Curie adjusted the vial in her hand once more, glancing briefly at Sico. Her fingers trembled only slightly, a human imperfection she had accepted long ago.
"This will be quick," she whispered, more to herself than to anyone else. "Just enough to measure initial absorption, metabolic response… nothing more. Safety first."
Sico's gaze was fixed on the prisoner's face, reading every micro-expression, every flicker of fear or discomfort, prepared to intervene instantly if necessary.
The hum of the machine rose just slightly as Curie prepared the syringe. Her movements were almost reverent, each adjustment careful, precise, deliberate.
"Mon ami," she said softly, glancing at Sico one last time, "we begin now."
The prisoner's hands tightened on the armrests. His eyes flicked briefly to Sico, then to Curie. A brief moment of tension hung in the air, the hum of the lab and the flicker of fluorescent lights around them amplifying the anticipation.
And then, slowly, deliberately, Curie brought the syringe forward.
Curie's hands were steady, almost hypnotically so, as the syringe inched toward the older prisoner's exposed arm. The liquid within the vial shimmered faintly under the bright task lamp, a soft amber glow that seemed to pulse in rhythm with the low hum of the lab's filtration system. Sico's grip on the prisoner was firm but careful, a silent assurance that, for now, no unexpected movement would disrupt the procedure.
"Just a small amount," Curie whispered, almost to herself. "Measured. Controlled. Safe."
She pressed the needle gently against the man's skin, feeling the subtle resistance of his muscle and the slight tremor that ran through his forearm. She exhaled, a soft, almost imperceptible hiss of breath, before pushing the plunger. The liquid entered his bloodstream, barely making a sound beyond the faint hiss of the syringe's mechanics.
For a moment, nothing happened. The prisoner's chest rose and fell in a regular rhythm. His eyes shifted from Sico to Curie, still wary, still unsure. But then, almost imperceptibly at first, his body began to stiffen.
A subtle twitch in his fingers. A jerk in his shoulders.
Curie's eyes widened. She leaned closer to the monitoring screen, watching the vital signs spike in a pattern that didn't match any of her simulations. Her mind raced through the possibilities, the equations, the receptor bindings, the enzyme interactions.
And then it came.
The twitching escalated into convulsions. The prisoner's body jerked violently against Sico's hold, muscles tightening uncontrollably, teeth grinding, eyes rolling back.
"No… non, non, non!" Curie murmured, her voice cracking, almost a whisper of panic hidden beneath the calm precision she usually carried. She grabbed the antidote vial from the tray beside her, her fingers shaking only slightly as she loaded the syringe.
Sico's hand instinctively tightened on her shoulder, a grounding touch, steadying. "It's okay, Curie. You're doing everything right. Focus."
Curie's eyes flicked to him briefly, a flash of panic, regret, fear, and determination in her gaze, before she turned back to the prisoner. She injected the antidote rapidly, with practiced precision, her hands moving as fast as thought would allow.
For a heartbeat, there was hope. The convulsions seemed to ease ever so slightly. The monitors showed a tentative stabilization.
And then the inevitable happened.
The prisoner's body went completely rigid, then slack. His chest no longer rose and fell. The color drained from his face, replaced by a pallid, unnatural hue. A faint gurgling sound escaped his throat, followed by a sudden, horrifying spew of blood. His body twitched once, twice, and then lay still.
Curie froze. The vial in her hand slipped slightly, clinking softly against the metal tray. Her gloved fingers trembled as she set it down, her eyes locked on the lifeless form before her. For a long, suffocating moment, there was silence in the lab. The only sounds were the soft hum of the machine and the faint hiss of the ventilation system.
Sico was behind her before she could react, one hand on her shoulder, firm, grounding. "Curie… it's okay. It's not your fault."
Her breath hitched, a soft, broken sound. "But… I… I prepared everything. The dosage… the formula… I ran the simulations, everything. It should have worked. It should have—"
"You can't know that until we study it," Sico said gently, his voice low, patient. "Right now, he's gone. There's nothing more we could have done in that moment. This… this is why we study, why we experiment carefully. This… this is data. And data can teach us why his body rejected it, how the prototype reacted. That knowledge… it will save lives."
Curie turned slowly, tears glistening at the corners of her eyes. Her hands shook, but not so much that she couldn't reach for the monitoring screens. She moved closer to the display, reading the vitals she had captured in the final moments. Each spike, each anomaly, each sudden drop was a story, a clue about what had gone wrong.
Sico stepped beside her, quiet and steady. He didn't speak immediately. He let her absorb the information, let her mourn briefly. But then he added, softly, "We need to understand this. Not just for the others, for everyone who will need Rad-X in the future. We check the data, the vitals, the reactions. We find what triggered the seizure, what caused the body to fight the prototype. That's what science does. That's why you're here. And that's why you're the one who can fix it."
Curie's trembling fingers hovered over the keyboard. Her mind was a storm of grief, guilt, and determination, but beneath it all was the spark of resolve that had carried her through countless hours of preparation. She began pulling up the logs, reviewing the biometric readings, the chemical reaction notes, the enzyme markers, the subtle changes in neural conductivity that had preceded the convulsions.
Sico watched her quietly, understanding the gravity of the moment. He had been in the field long enough to recognize tragedy, to see death up close, but he also knew the weight of potential, of knowledge gained from failure. He didn't offer platitudes beyond what mattered. He simply stayed, grounding her, ready to act if needed.
The other two prisoners shifted nervously under Sarah's watchful eyes. Their chains clinked softly as they reacted to the sudden death, confusion and fear flickering across their faces. Sico's voice, calm but commanding, cut through the tension.
"Stay calm. No one else is harmed. You will be observed carefully. This is for the safety of all."
Curie's lips pressed together, her face pale but resolute. She studied the readings, fingers moving rapidly over the keyboard, annotating anomalies, calculating possible reactions. Her mind raced through chemical pathways, metabolic responses, receptor bindings, potential genetic predispositions. The loss weighed on her, but she could not let grief paralyze her. The prototype could be perfected and must be perfected for the sake of every person in the wasteland who would need it.
Sico's hand rested lightly on her back again, grounding her. "Focus on the data, Curie. Let's find out why his body rejected it. The answers are in the numbers, in the readings. That's where the next breakthrough will come."
She exhaled sharply, wiping at the corners of her eyes with the back of her gloved hand, and nodded. Slowly, deliberately, she moved toward the first set of biometric logs. Her movements were precise now, professional, but tinged with the grief of someone who had seen death and yet refused to let it define her.
The monitor flickered, displaying heart rate fluctuations, neural activity, enzyme reactions. Curie leaned closer, eyes scanning line after line, finger tracing the sudden spikes that had preceded the seizure. Each spike, each anomaly told a story. And slowly, carefully, the pattern began to emerge.
"Look here," she whispered to Sico, pointing to a sudden enzyme cascade that hadn't appeared in any prior simulations. "His metabolism… it reacted differently. Perhaps… a genetic variance? Or pre-existing stress response… something unanticipated. The prototype… it interacted… incorrectly."
Sico nodded, his eyes tracing the same data. "We'll learn. That's why you test, why you refine. It's not failure, not yet. It's a lesson."
Curie swallowed hard, nodding slowly. Her voice was soft but steady. "Yes… a lesson. If we understand why… then perhaps we can adjust the formula. Stabilize it further. Prevent this from happening again."
The lab felt heavier now, the air thick with the loss, but also charged with purpose. Sico glanced at the other two prisoners, still restrained but watching, and the faint flicker of tension in their expressions reminded him why Curie's work mattered. These experiments weren't abstract. They were survival for the settlement, for the people they had sworn to protect, for a future where rad-sickness didn't mean certain death.
"Let's continue," Sico said gently. "After we understand what went wrong, we can proceed carefully. Observation, adjustment, data. That's how we save lives. Step by step. One careful step at a time."
The room was quiet, but it was not silent. There was the low hum of the ventilation system, the faint blinking of lights on the monitors, and the soft, almost imperceptible sound of Curie's gloves brushing against the stainless steel tray. Sico remained behind her, still steadying her with the hand on her back, letting her work in her own rhythm. He did not rush, did not speak unnecessarily, because he understood the gravity of the moment with the fine line between grief, responsibility, and action.
Curie leaned closer to the lifeless form of the older prisoner, her eyes tracing the subtle pallor in his skin, the faint stiffness that had already begun to set in. Carefully, deliberately, she prepared a fresh vial, labeling it for study: "Blood Sample, Post-Prototype Reaction." Her hands, though trembling slightly from adrenaline and sorrow, moved with precision that spoke of both training and devotion.
"This… this will tell us what went wrong," she murmured softly, almost to herself. "If we can understand the cascade, the metabolic spike… perhaps… perhaps it can be prevented."
Sico watched her quietly, not intruding on her focus, but aware of every micro-expression, every flicker of hesitation. He had known Curie long enough to see the layers of her mind with the careful balance between human compassion and scientific rigor. Even now, after witnessing death caused indirectly by her own careful hand, she did not falter in her duty.
She began the procedure, using a sterile syringe to extract a sample of the prisoner's blood. The first puncture drew only a few milliliters; her hand held steady despite the moment, the small, precise movements a dance of control in the shadow of tragedy. She deposited the sample into a small, labeled vial, sealing it carefully, then placed it into a portable containment box designed for biohazard samples.
"All necessary precautions," she whispered to herself. "Gloves. Sterile vials. Isolation. Everything… everything must remain controlled."
Sico's hand remained on her back, firm and reassuring. "Good. That's exactly what we need. Every bit of data counts. Every variable matters. You're not alone in this, Curie. We'll learn. We'll understand."
She nodded slowly, her breathing still uneven, but her focus sharpening as the sample was secured. "Yes… every variable. Every spike. The enzyme cascade… the neural feedback… it all must be documented."
Sico turned slightly, glancing toward Sarah and the remaining two prisoners. Their eyes flicked nervously between the monitors, the lifeless body on the examination table, and the glint of instruments across the room. Sarah's posture was professional but tense, a reminder that even seasoned guards could feel the weight of these controlled experiments.
Sico approached the prison guard nearest the table. "We need to move him," he said quietly, but firmly. "Carefully. Place him in the containment cage I have prepared in the rear of the hospital wing. It's secure, monitored, and will allow Curie to study the samples safely without further contamination. Handle him gently, and keep everything controlled."
The guard, a burly man with years of experience in handling prisoners, nodded. "Understood. But… seeing someone go like this… it never gets easier."
Sico's gaze softened, acknowledging the unspoken weight of the moment. "No, it doesn't. That's why we do it as carefully as possible, with respect and attention. This isn't punishment. This is science. Controlled observation. Make sure he's secured and treated with dignity. That's all that matters now."
With a subtle gesture, the guard signaled his partner, and they approached the body. Sico stayed nearby, ensuring the process remained smooth, alert to the prisoner's fragility, and ready to intervene if anything went wrong. The body was lifted gently, supported at shoulders and legs, moved with care to avoid jolts that might disrupt the delicate blood sample Curie had collected.
Curie continued her work beside the portable lab station, her eyes never leaving the monitors. She cross-referenced the spikes from the prisoner's vitals against previous data she had simulated. "See this?" she murmured to Sico, pointing at a sudden, sharp divergence in the metabolic readout just moments before the seizure. "This enzyme surge… it wasn't predicted. Something… something in his physiology reacted against the prototype. But why? Was it stress? Pre-existing conditions? Genetic anomaly?"
Sico nodded, his voice calm but supportive. "That's what we're here to find out. Every anomaly is a clue. Every reaction, even a tragedy like this, is a step closer to understanding. Don't let grief cloud your judgment. Channel it into the data. That's what it's for."
Curie took a slow breath, letting the sadness settle into a thin layer beneath the surge of determination that pushed her hands to keep moving. She labeled the notes, attached the vital readings, and began compiling the metrics. "If we can isolate the variables," she said quietly, "we can refine the formula. Prevent future… accidents. Make the Rad-X prototype… stable."
Meanwhile, Sico stayed near the guards as they carried the body of the deceased prisoner toward the secure cage. He instructed them on placement, ensuring the floor padding minimized jostling and that the restraints were correctly secured to prevent accidental injury to themselves or any personnel passing nearby.
Once the body was safely in the cage, Sico checked the monitoring connections he had installed. Sensors could still track residual metabolic markers, and environmental conditions could be adjusted to ensure Curie could continue her analysis.
"Secure?" he asked, standing back.
"Secure," the lead guard replied, a slight tremor in his voice belying his professional tone.
Sico exhaled quietly and returned to Curie's side. "We're ready to continue," he said softly. "You have the sample, the data. The cage is prepared. The remaining prisoners are under control. We proceed carefully, step by step."
Curie nodded, her hands moving to prepare for the next phase. She reviewed the vital statistics of the other two prisoners, noting stress markers, metabolic rates, and the subtle cues that indicated their physiological baseline before any exposure. "We proceed slowly," she murmured. "Observe every change. Controlled. Measured. No surprises."
Sico's hand rested lightly on her shoulder again, a grounding presence. "I'll stay here, Curie. You focus on the data and the procedure. We'll manage the rest. You're not alone in this."
The younger prisoners watched the process with wide eyes, their fear palpable but tempered by the calm authority in the room. Sico kept them in line, speaking softly when necessary, reinforcing the controlled nature of what was happening. "Stay calm," he reminded them. "No one else is harmed. Observation only. Any movement beyond what's necessary will be managed carefully."
Curie returned to the lab station, preparing the next samples, recalibrating the monitors, and cross-referencing the previous anomaly with her simulations. Each movement was meticulous, precise, yet tinged with the subtle tremor of grief that had not fully dissipated. The hum of the lab seemed to carry both the sorrow of the lost prisoner and the hope of scientific understanding that could save countless lives.
"Step by step," Sico whispered beside her. "We honor him by learning. By making sure this doesn't happen again. Every measurement, every spike, every detail… that's how we save lives."
Curie's eyes, red-rimmed but focused, traced the data on the monitor. "Yes… step by step. Each variable… controlled. Each response… understood. We can do this. We must."
The hum of the lab seemed to thicken, as though the space itself absorbed the sorrow and tension left by the first prisoner's death. Curie's gloved hands hovered over the keyboard and the control panel of the prototype, her mind replaying the last moments over and over in search of answers. Each spike, each anomaly, each tiny data point held the key to understanding why the prototype had failed. She allowed herself only the briefest pause to acknowledge the loss, then forced her focus back to the task at hand.
Sico remained by her side, his presence steady, silent, a grounding hand on her shoulder whenever her movements grew tense or her mind threatened to spiral. He didn't speak unnecessarily. Words, he knew, could not erase grief, nor could they prevent tragedy, but they could anchor someone in the moment.
"Every reaction, every anomaly, is a clue," he reminded her softly, his voice low, almost a whisper. "We can't change what happened, but we can understand it. That's what will save lives next time."
Curie nodded, drawing a slow, measured breath. She returned to the monitors, cross-referencing the biometric data with the prototype's internal readings. Lines of numbers scrolled across the screen, a language of life and chemical reaction, each spike and dip telling a story more eloquent than words ever could. The enzyme cascade, the neural response, the metabolic spikes as they all whispered secrets she had to decipher.
She adjusted the prototype's delivery parameters, recalibrating the dosage, the infusion rate, and the stabilization sequence. Each adjustment was minute, a fraction of a milliliter, a fraction of a second, a degree of pressure, but the implications were enormous. One miscalculation, one overlooked variable, could mean the difference between observation and catastrophe.
"Focus on the data," Sico said again, his hand still lightly on her back. "Don't let the moment paralyze you. You're the one who can fix this, Curie. You've already proven that."
Her fingers danced over the controls, entering new values and recalibrating the prototype's systems. She ran simulations again, integrating the data from the deceased prisoner. The display lit up with predicted reactions, showing a more stable response curve. Small, but measurable improvements. Her eyes traced the simulated spikes carefully, noting where the enzyme reaction had overextended, where the metabolic response had surged. Each correction was precise, calculated, and grounded in the evidence she had painstakingly collected.
"Better," she whispered, almost in awe, as if the machine itself were breathing with relief. "More controlled… less volatile." She ran the simulation again, slower this time, tracing the flow of the prototype through the bloodstream, watching how it interacted with cellular structures, watching for triggers that had caused the violent convulsions before.
Sico watched over her shoulder, seeing the tension in her shoulders slowly relax, replaced by the focused intensity that always appeared when she was in her element. "You're doing it," he said quietly. "Step by step, you're making it safer."
Meanwhile, Sarah, who had been lingering near the doorway, glanced back toward the observation area where the remaining two prisoners were still restrained, eyes wide, fear evident but contained. She knew Curie needed space to work, to analyze, to recalibrate. The moral weight of what they were doing hung in the air like a thick fog. Sarah gave a curt nod to the prison guard nearest the two remaining prisoners.
"You stay here," she said firmly but softly, "keep an eye on them. No one moves beyond this point. They follow orders, they remain seated. Do not let them panic, do not let them fight. This is for everyone's safety, including theirs."
The guard nodded, muscles taut, scanning the prisoners like a hawk. One slight movement, one misstep, and he would intervene immediately but his restraint was as precise as the guard's training demanded.
"I need to finish recalibration," Curie murmured to Sico, still absorbed in the interface. Her eyes moved with careful deliberation between screens, instruments, and the delicate vial of the Rad-X prototype. "If the formula is stable… if we can stabilize it fully… then perhaps… perhaps the next subject can be observed safely. Controlled… monitored… nothing unanticipated."
Sico gave a subtle nod. "That's our only way forward. Observation, data, understanding. The first failure was a step, not the end. This… this is why we're here. You're the one who can make it right."
Curie's fingers hovered over the delivery mechanism of the prototype, recalibrating once more. She adjusted infusion rates, integrating safety buffers, and increasing monitoring sensitivity. Every millisecond counted; every microgram of the prototype had to be perfectly measured. She double-checked the syringe preparation, ensuring that the flow rate would remain within safe parameters.
Meanwhile, the remaining prisoners shifted slightly, glancing at one another, anxiety evident in the tightness of their fists and the tension in their shoulders. The younger of the two muttered under his breath, a question perhaps about the first prisoner, perhaps a fear unspoken. The guard's hand rested lightly on his shoulder, a silent warning. No words were exchanged beyond necessity.
Curie's eyes scanned the monitors again. Heart rate, blood pressure, skin conductivity, enzyme activity as everything was now ready for a controlled observation. She allowed herself a brief glance at Sico, seeing his steady gaze and the quiet reassurance in his stance. His presence reminded her that she wasn't alone, that the responsibility wasn't hers to bear alone.
"Mon ami," she murmured softly, turning toward him. "I believe… we are ready. The prototype is recalibrated. The parameters are safer. We can proceed cautiously."
Sico's expression remained calm, but the faint tension around his jaw betrayed the weight of the moment. "Careful. Slow. Observation only. You guide them through it. I'll support."
He motioned to the guards, who subtly adjusted their positions to allow the next prisoner to be prepared. The prisoner, wiry and scarred, shifted uneasily in the restraints, eyes darting between Curie, Sico, and the instruments. Every movement was careful, every blink measured. He had witnessed the aftermath of the first procedure; fear was etched into his expression, a raw, human response to the unknown.
Curie approached with measured steps, keeping her voice low, calm, and soothing. "Bonjour… please. We will proceed slowly. Step by step. Nothing… will happen without my full attention. You understand?"
The prisoner's eyes widened, a flash of panic, but he didn't resist. He had no choice but to comply, and perhaps, deep down, he understood the precision and care in her tone.
Sico stayed close, a reassuring presence, silently signaling to the guard to keep the prisoner steady without harsh force. "Just sit," he said quietly, voice soft but firm. "This is controlled. Observe, follow directions, stay calm. That's all."
Curie adjusted the biometric scanner once more, preparing the monitoring system to track every vital, every subtle neurological change. She checked the syringe, confirmed the dosage, and aligned the infusion mechanism to the vein she intended to use a small, precise, minimal impact. Her fingers lingered on the controls, running through one final mental checklist.
"All ready," she whispered. Her voice was barely audible, yet every word carried weight. "We proceed now. Carefully… cautiously… step by step."
Sico's hand rested lightly on the prisoner's shoulder, a grounding presence, not a restraint but a reassurance that he was not alone. The guards maintained their positions, eyes alert, muscles tensed but controlled. Every element in the room existed in a delicate balance between fear, necessity, and observation.
________________________________________________
• Name: Sico
• Stats :
S: 8,44
P: 7,44
E: 8,44
C: 8,44
I: 9,44
A: 7,45
L: 7
• Skills: advance Mechanic, Science, and Shooting skills, intermediate Medical, Hand to Hand Combat, Lockpicking, Hacking, Persuasion, and Drawing Skills
• Inventory: 53.280 caps, 10mm Pistol, 1500 10mm rounds, 22 mole rats meat, 17 mole rats teeth, 1 fragmentation grenade, 6 stimpak, 1 rad x, 6 fusion core, computer blueprint, modern TV blueprint, camera recorder blueprint, 1 set of combat armor, Automatic Assault Rifle, 1.500 5.56mm rounds, power armor T51 blueprint, Electric Motorcycle blueprint, T-45 power armor, Minigun, 1.000 5mm rounds, Cryolator, 200 cryo cell, Machine Gun Turret Mk1 blueprint, electric car blueprint, Kellogg gun, Righteous Authority, Ashmaker, Furious Power Fist, Full set combat armor blueprint, M240 7.62mm machine guns blueprint, Automatic Assault Rifle blueprint, and Humvee blueprint.
• Active Quest:-