The interrogator led Milly down a long, dim hallway lined with steel doors and faintly glowing blue lights. Each door hissed softly as they passed, and strange shadows flickered behind the glass panes.
The air was cold far too cold for comfort.
Milly rubbed her arms nervously. "Uh… I don't suppose this is where you keep your visitors' lounge, huh?"
The woman didn't answer. She simply stopped in front of a massive double door and pressed her hand on the scanner.
Beep. Beep. Access granted.
The door slid open with a hiss, releasing a faint mist of sterilized air.
Inside was a lab filled with metal tables, humming machines, and rows of jars that contained
"Ew- what's that, floating eyeball thing?!" Milly whispered to herself.
A man stood near the center of the lab, wearing a white coat with red stains near the sleeve, goggles strapped across his forehead. His gray hair was slicked back, and his eyes gleamed with excitement the moment he saw her.
"Ahhh… so this is the specimen they spoke of," he said softly, almost reverently.
"Specimen? Hey, I'm not a frog!"
The man ignored her. He walked in circles around her like a child seeing their favorite toy for the first time. Then, without warning, he reached out and lifted the edge of her sleeve.
His pupils dilated.
"Black and red scaling… beautifully integrated. Organic crystallization… just like the data predicted."
Milly stepped back, uneasy. "Hey, personal space! And who said you could touch- "
Before she could finish, he jabbed a needle into her shoulder.
She gasped, eyes widening as a heavy drowsiness flooded through her veins.
The scientist's smile didn't fade it only grew.
"Fascinating. Let's see what secrets you hold, dragon girl."
The last thing Milly saw before her vision blurred was the cold gleam of metal tools under the white laboratory lights.
Moments or maybe hours later, Milly's eyes fluttered open.
Everything felt… wrong.
Her vision was tilted, hazy and she wasn't breathing. She tried to speak, but no sound came.
Her gaze drifted down.
Her body was standing upright, supported by mechanical arms and glowing restraints.
Cables ran through her arms and shoulders like roots feeding into a machine.
And she her consciousness was still there, trapped within.
Her lungs, her throat gone. Detached. Her chest cavity half open, yet she could feel it all, as if the pain had been muted by the anesthetic.
The scientist hummed softly to himself, adjusting dials and murmuring notes.
"Specimen demonstrates regenerative potential. Even in partial separation, neural responses persist. Remarkable."
He didn't know.
He didn't realize Milly was still conscious watching every movement, every touch, every word.
Milly's sight followed the reflection in a nearby glass panel.
Her body, her own body, moved slightly, reacting to his instruments.
Inside her mind, a spark of dread turned to silent rage.