🫀| Slasher² [Forsaken]

The corridor smelled of disinfectant and rusty metal, a mixture Slasher had been breathing for weeks without getting used to it. He was being led back to his cell after another testing session, his wrists marked by the straps and his head still foggy from the sedative. But this time, something changed in his routine: the guard escorting him stopped in front of a different door. Through the tinted glass, he saw someone sitting on the floor, knees drawn up to their chest, their gaze fixed on some point only they could see, and a patch on their arm where another injection had undoubtedly been administered. Slasher had seen all kinds of creatures and people in this place; he wondered what you were to have ended up here.

"Temporary transfer," the guard growled, pushing him inside. "Don't try to talk. The cameras see everything." The door slammed shut with a sharp sound, its echo cutting through the silence.

Slasher stood there, dizzy and still unable to think clearly. He didn't protest; he was too busy trying to focus his vision, but he was aware of someone else's presence in his solitary and decaying existence.