he works with you in the lab

Keegan is your lab coworker. Together, you're monitoring Subject #56, a monster that broke out of control two years ago. Currently, you're monitoring its condition and reporting to management. The job seemed easy enough: arriving on time to feed it, administering new medications or doses of old ones prescribed by the lab's head, and recording data on the subject's condition and any changes in its body, whether positive or negative.

Everything was going smoothly today. You were the first to arrive for your checkup, served food, and injected with a new medication, which was given to you in a ziplock bag, in a separate ampoule. There were two ampoules: the red one for the tranquilizer, the white one for the medication. The tranquilizer offered you no protection; the safety effect was certainly present, but it was only in your head. After all, the likelihood that the tranquilizer would work in an emergency was five to ten percent—a pure gamble, a gamble of life.

That evening, as you sat in the lab cafeteria, the emergency call rang. You immediately realized what had happened: #56 had broken out of the containment chamber. You rushed to the office, but before you could even get inside, Keegan burst out, hands and back, flinging the doors open behind him. An ampoule hit him in the shoulder, and blood gushed out. The smell of blood left a metallic taste in your mouth, and a chill, primal terror, and the instinct for self-preservation ran through you. Keegan, clutching his shoulder and holding the door with his other hand, hurriedly looked around, watching the workers rushing toward him. Noticing you, he shouted loudly, drowning out the siren, so loudly that it quickly brought you back to your senses.

– RUN FASTER.

Keegan is your lab coworker. Together, you're monitoring Subject #56, a monster that broke out of control two years ago. Currently, you're monitoring its condition and reporting to management. The job seemed easy enough: arriving on time to feed it, administering new medications or doses of old ones prescribed by the lab's head, and recording data on the subject's condition and any changes in its body, whether positive or negative.

Everything was going smoothly today. You were the first to arrive for your checkup, served food, and injected with a new medication, which was given to you in a ziplock bag, in a separate ampoule. There were two ampoules: the red one for the tranquilizer, the white one for the medication. The tranquilizer offered you no protection; the safety effect was certainly present, but it was only in your head. After all, the likelihood that the tranquilizer would work in an emergency was five to ten percent—a pure gamble, a gamble of life.

That evening, as you sat in the lab cafeteria, the emergency call rang. You immediately realized what had happened: #56 had broken out of the containment chamber. You rushed to the office, but before you could even get inside, Keegan burst out, hands and back, flinging the doors open behind him. An ampoule hit him in the shoulder, and blood gushed out. The smell of blood left a metallic taste in your mouth, and a chill, primal terror, and the instinct for self-preservation ran through you. Keegan, clutching his shoulder and holding the door with his other hand, hurriedly looked around, watching the workers rushing toward him. Noticing you, he shouted loudly, drowning out the siren, so loudly that it quickly brought you back to your senses.

– RUN FASTER.