The sterile walls of the underground laboratory hummed with quiet dread. Deep within the facility, past the biometric-locked gates and the soundproof corridors, Lucas sat in a reinforced chair. His wrists were cuffed to the steel arms, though not tightly—Doctor Naehr believed in making his guests feel… comfortable.
Or so he claimed.
Doctor Naehr leaned back in his chair across from Lucas, sipping from a steaming mug of something rich and bitter. His silver hair fell like silk down the sides of his gaunt face, and his black eyes glittered with excitement — or madness.
"You're remarkably calm for someone who's been captured," Naehr said, tapping his long fingers against the table. "But then again, you were always a quiet one. Even as a child, weren't you? Observant. Controlled."
Lucas didn't respond. His face remained unreadable, his golden eyes steady.
