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A soft murmur reverberates down the hallways of a top-secret facility tucked away deep beneath the surface of the planet. The building is a silent monolith, with pristine, smooth walls and cold, antiseptic air. The flickering lights of computer consoles and the sporadic flicker of a holographic display are the only indications of life here.
The facility is a center for scientific investigation devoted to solving the yomigaeri's enigmas. This location is a tomb with few inhabitants, a great cry from the busy bustle of a normal laboratory.
A sizable, poorly lighted room in the middle of the complex is filled with the buzz of equipment and the smell of chemicals. Here, both humans and yomigaeri are imprisoned within enormous, cylindrical tubes, their bodies floating in an enigmatic substance that emits an ethereal blue light.
A small group of scientists and technicians work quietly and methodically around the room's boundaries, keeping an eye on the tubes and conducting tests on their zombie victims.
One scientist in particular stands out. She moves with icy efficiency, her expression carefully blank.
The scientist pauses before one of the tubes, its occupant a young woman, her face placid and her eyes closed. The scientist studies the yomigaeri intently, her gaze flicking over the strange markings that cover the woman's skin.
"Subject #187," the scientist murmurs to herself, her voice low and detached. "H.M. female, 20 years of age, cause of death unknown. Apparent rank 3 yomigaeri."
The scientist reaches for a syringe, her movements slow and methodical.
The scientist freezes, the syringe hovering above the tube, her eyes widening as she hears the voice behind her.
"Stop," the voice commands, its tone icy and firm.
The scientist's breath catches in her throat, her heart thudding against her ribs as she slowly turns to face the source of the voice.
Before her stands a woman, her features hidden by the shadows of her hooded cloak. But the scientist recognizes her all the same.
"Mistress," the scientist whispers, her voice trembling with fear.
"I-I can explain," the scientist stammers, her voice high and shrill as she struggles to compose herself. "This subject was just—just—"
The figure lifts a gloved hand, cutting her off with a single gesture. "Spare me the details," she says, her voice a low, deadly hiss. "This subject is no longer your concern.
"I will be taking this body to my lab," She continues, her eyes narrowing beneath the shadows of her hood.
The scientist, her hands shaking, places the syringe back on the tray, her eyes fixed on the figure as she speaks. "Y-yes, of course," she stutters, her words barely audible over the hum of the machinery.
The figure nods, her gaze never wavering as she turns and strides toward the exit, her cloak billowing behind her.
The scientist, her heart still racing, signals to the yomigaeri standing guard at the door, her voice a barely audible whisper.
The yomigaeri, its body perfectly still, turns its head to face the scientist, its eyes glowing with a faint, unearthly light.
"Take the subject to my lab," the scientist whispers, her voice quivering with fear. "Subject #187. Do it now."
The yomigaeri, its movements eerily fluid, glides forward, its feet silent on the cold metal floor. It reaches the tube and, with a single motion, unlocks the mechanism that holds the young woman in place.
The young woman's body floats upward, her limbs limp and lifeless. The yomigaeri, its movements efficient and precise, wraps its arms around her torso, holding her upright as it begins to carry her toward the door.
The scientist, her eyes fixed on the floor, does not watch as the yomigaeri and its cargo disappear into the darkness of the hallway. Instead, she stands motionless, her mind racing as she tries to process the encounter with the mistress.
"Take the body to the streets," the figure commands, her voice low and authoritative. "Give it to the low-ranking yomigaeri as a snack."
The yomigaeri, its expression unchanging, nods and begins to carry the young woman's body out of the laboratory, its footsteps echoing in the silent hallway.
"That's what you get for looking down on me, roomie," the figure mutters, her voice laden with bitter resentment. "Thinking you were better than me, smarter than me. Making you a part of my work would have given you a far too important purpose. You're better off feeding the low-ranking dogs."
She turns away from the window, the young woman's body now a distant memory. "It's for the best," she whispers, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. "You were always a thorn in my side."
The figure strides through the dark, empty hallways of the secret facility, her thoughts swirling with a dangerous mix of anger and ambition.
"I'll show them all," she murmurs, her eyes flashing with a cold determination. "They think they can dismiss me, overlook me, ignore me. But they'll see. I'll make them see."
As she approaches her private laboratory, the figures resolve hardens into a sharp, deadly edge.
"I'll be the one to that ends up ontop of the food chain after all of this," she whispers, her voice a barely audible hiss.
Kira enters her laboratory, the door sliding open with a soft hiss. The room is a mess of papers and charts, the tables cluttered with tools and equipment.
Against one wall, a collection of organs hangs in silent testament to Kira's work. hearts, brains, spleens, livers—all part of her relentless pursuit to further her research.
But the centerpiece of the room is the table in the center, upon which lies a body—a yomigaeri—held still by thick, metal restraints.
Kira's eyes sweep across the room, alighting upon a backpack in the corner, nearly hidden by the clutter.
"There you are," she murmurs, her lips curling into a smile. "I almost forgot about you."
Kira turns and makes her way back to the door, the backpack bouncing against her side with every step. "I won't let them stop me," she murmurs. "I'm too close."