The flesh that fed and the heart that bled...

Chapter One: The flesh that fed..

For the rest of the world, it was just a normal day. However, for Tom (Actual name Timothy) was just recently transferred to a new facility of the World United Research Facility (WURF)– a "promotion", that was what his supervisor said, but Tom knew what it was to be moved in the middle of nowhere when he saw one.

It was apparent that the new facility was a bigger branch of the organization and that meant more work for him. Before the promotion, all he was doing was some basic stuff, he thought it was a great job because he was getting paid well for what he was doing i.e.lifting some boxes, patrolling some empty hallway and pretending that the security camera actually recorded anything useful. Now he had more work to do, it was not as simple as "move that one box to the other room." or "Please do that for me.", of course Tom was excited about his new promotion, I mean who wouldn't be? To him, it just meant more salary to him in exchange for some more work. "I can handle that easily!" he thought to himself when he was getting told that he was getting promoted and transferred to a bigger facility if only he knew...

Chapter: 1.1: And the heart that fed

Deep down somewhere in the facility, there lies a secret room hidden well which only qualified staff could only enter. Dr. Morrison and his assistant Charlotte were conducting some studies regarding a new-found pathogen from the depth of sea.

Dr. Morrison as usual stayed in the room late, studying the pathogen with an electric microscope, he was fascinated on how the pathogen was still alive even after it was proved to be as old as the earth! Testing shows that the pathogen somehow were able to alter dead cells albeit more disgustingly. It was like the pathogen was trying to make a copy of the cell it came in contact with albeit an imperfect copy... Morrison described it as a grotesque imitation of the cell it was trying to copy. He dare'nt tried to do some crazy experiment with the virus as he didn't know what IT was really capable of. He called it 'Benthic Pathogen X7' ("Benthic" \= ocean floor dwelling.)

Charlotte was the first to notice something was wrong.

At first, it was nothing more than a lapse. A tremor in her fingers as she adjusted the containment field. She laughed it off, blaming the hour, the recycled air, the endless hum of machines that made time feel unreal underground. Morrison barely looked up from the microscope. The pathogen had entered another dormant cell sample and begun its work again, reshaping what should not have moved.

Then Charlotte dropped the vial.

The glass did not shatter. It flexed, warped, as if something inside had pressed back.

The containment alarms did not trigger. That was the first real failure. The second was human reflex. Charlotte reached for it.

Later, Morrison would replay that moment until the memory wore thin. A bare fingertip against the vial’s seal. A pause. A sharp inhale, like cold water in the lungs.

She said it burns..

Morrison told her to wash her hands immediately. Full decontamination. No arguments. Charlotte nodded, a little dazed, already backing toward the exit chamber. Her steps were uneven, like she’d misjudged the distance between the floor and her feet.

After "decontamination", Morrison decided to go back home. He told Charlotte to properly organize his research before leaving and that's how she was left alone in the room...

At first, she felt nothing.. She was deep into organizing the research that all she ever thought of was how she was going to get herself a nice dinner at home in the warmth of his loving husband..

Then something changed.. Her thoughts became more irrational, more.. Chaotic, she blamed it on her being tired.

Then her breath changed, It caught halfway in, shallow and uneven, like her lungs had forgotten the rhythm they had followed her entire life. She paused, hands resting on the desk, waiting for it to pass. It didn’t. A faint pressure spread through her chest, not pain, just wrongness. Her thoughts scattered, memories overlapping without order. Numbers refused to stay still. Words lost meaning mid-sentence. She stood to steady herself and nearly fell, legs responding a moment too late. Her reflection in the glass looked delayed, unfamiliar. Somewhere beneath her skin, something adjusted itself, patient, curious, and already certain she wasn’t alone anymore. Then.. THEN..

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