ghtmare of sterile white

tantly. It smelled lik

r man with thinning gray hair and a white lab coat. Bu

like she was a winning lottery ticket. His pupils were dilated,

their native tongue, his hands

replied in a low, clipped tone, ste

is shoulder, switching to his newly formed

nodded n

y down on the cold metal table. The ring hummed to life, passing o

s than thir

ated the screen, his breath caught. He let out a strang

started shouting at Jefferson, pointing a

ticked violently. He stepped toward the doctor,

e spiking. "What's wrong?" she asked, her vo

es locked on the doctor. "He says your biolo

an cold. "No. No ne

. He grabbed a device from a metal tray. It looked like a thick, s

, his face twisted in

ward on the table, pressing her spine

out, his hand aimi

ver m

ster than the huma

wrapping around Dr. Vance

t out a shar

English. He spoke his native tongue, but the l

e room, suffocating everyone in it. It was an instinctual, uncontrollable eruption-a biological failsafe triggered only when a Prime faced a d

ained of color. His

vice clattere

Vance dropped to his knees, whimpering, his ear

ree agonizing seconds. Then, he sho

e looked down at the needle device on the floor. He

shattering into doze

oppressive weight in the room vani

redator was gone. His eyes were soft

nd crouched down so he w

English slow and deliberate. "I pr

aving. She looked at the crushed needle o

iolently, decisively, w

e whispered, he

e. He stood up and o

. His grip was fi

ng, leaving the terrified doctor on

gers absentmindedly tracing her own pulse. What is wrong with my b

was real, but the seed of a new, terrifyi