The lab was silent with the faint echoing of my fingers clattering across the keyboard as I typed. I thought about what Graves said, his disbelief. Something was happening here that was different. I rolled back in my seat pulling out the blank notes and started to write about my encounter with him. I detailed it as best as I could, the way Pray held me, his insistence, his gaze, everything. 

  My eyes flickered upward and I saw him, his red intense eyes looking at me as usual from across the lab. Even after a few days I was still unsettled by his constant  stares. I wasn’t used to this, who would be? Still there had to be a way around this or to drop his interest. The more I thought about it, the more impossible it seemed. 

Then after what happened yesterday…I wasn’t certain I could escape his interest. This job wasn’t for me, I knew that much. Even if I felt that way, part of me wanted to see if Pray could be reasoned with. There had to be someone else I could go to. Quickly I started flipping through one of the binders of staff in my sector. I came to Subject 001, the researcher in charge of it was Dr. Nathan Zelman. And another under it, Subject 002’s lead researcher was Dr. Terrance Caldwell. I tilted my head a bit when I saw in brackets (subject 002 deceased). The rest of the documents staff was in more restricted areas, so it seemed I was stuck talking to Dr. Zelman and Dr. Caldwell. One of them had to understand these creatures better than I did. 

I took my notebook with the current notes about Pray and walked out the lab. I could feel Pray’s eyes watching my back as I did. He would be fine without me for the time being.  Down the metallic hall I soon came across a hallway painted with the numbers 002. Dr. Caldwell must have been here. I peered inside and no one. Lights on however the lab was empty and so was the unit. It was much different than Pray’s no symbols on it. I then moved on until I was at the end of the hall. 001 came into view and here, I heard voices chattering. Sure enough when I got there it had a team of scientists. A stark contrast to my own lab where it was just me. 

I swiped my keycard unlocking the door going in. A few heads turned to me. The others seem to be concentrating on their work. I was soon approached by a man, older, ash brown hair and dark eyes. He seemed approachable enough as he nodded walking over to me. 

“I’m Dr. Zelman.” He gave a faint smile with his hand stretching out for a hand shake. “What brings you here…Miss?”

“Dr. Collins, I'm the head researcher over Subject 003.” I said with a smile back shaking his hand. Finally someone who didn’t send my stress levels soaring. 

“Ah, Pray, unfortunate you’ve been tied to that…specimen,” Zelman said with displeasure in his tone, he turned away walking towards the glass unit that contained Subject 001. I followed close behind and noticed the unit was in complete lockdown, nothing could be seen but the metal walls keeping it closed.

“I take it you understand his nature?”

“Yes. Unfortunately, I had the displeasure of working with one of the previous lead researchers for Subject 003. Before he was killed…”

“Wait… killed?” My eyes widened, a frown forming on my face.

“Yes, Pray either drives them away or… kills whoever studies him,” he said with a bitterness that hinted at terrible memories. “It’s why—and I’m sure you’ve noticed—you work alone.”

“Oh…” I murmured, glancing around the lab at the confident faces and dedicated workers. That was what I’d hoped for, yet it seemed I’d drawn the solo project. “I imagine it’s to reduce casualties.”

“Precisely.” Zelman nodded with a tight-lipped smile. “It also keeps him calm. He doesn’t like too many eyes on him at once—it makes him irritable and prone to outbursts.”

“Yet, he has a staring problem with me,” I said, a hint of irony in my tone.

“Hmm?” Zelman chuckled. “He stares at you?”

“Yes, every night I come in, he’s always watching.”

“An anomalous behavior,” Zelman’s concern was evident as he moved to his metal desk, pulling out a stack of old records on Pray. “Take a look at these.” He pointed to a note, his expression grim. “Indifference, through and through. The creature never cared to engage with anyone or anything.” He glanced up at me. “I assume Graves briefed you on that?

“He did, actually. He said "Pray doesn’t show interest in anyone.”

“Not just anyone—anything,” Zelman clarified. “I helped him learn English, and he picked it up, but he showed little interest in the written language.” He shook his head, fingers brushing over the notes. “But if he’s showing any interest in you, perhaps there’s something you could teach him.”

“You think that’s possible?” Hope laced my voice, the thought that perhaps some trace of humanity could be found within the monster. “That’s actually why I’m here. I wanted to see if there’s any chance of… domesticating Pray.”

Zelman paused, rubbing his mouth and chin thoughtfully. “I’ve thought the same thing myself, and I longed to see some progress.” He sighed. “But he resisted every attempt. However, since he seems focused on you… it might be possible.” His gaze met mine, hopeful but cautious. “But be very careful about what you teach him. He’s never going to see the light of day outside this facility, so there’s no need to expose him to anything that might provoke him.”

“Right…” I said, nodding thoughtfully.

“And beware of his mimicry,” Zelman added, his tone grave.

“Mimicry?” I repeated, uncertain.

“Pray is much more than just… a creature that can emulate appearances,” Zelman muttered, flipping through his notes with a furrowed brow. I watched him, the sterile lights of the lab casting cold shadows over his features. He looked absorbed, almost fascinated, as if he’d uncovered some revelation about the creature we thought we understood.

“What do you mean?” I asked, feeling a knot tighten in my stomach. We were already dealing with enough unknowns when it came to Pray—this didn’t sound like good news.

Zelman didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stopped on a particular page, his finger trailing over a section of notes. “Here,” he said quietly, pointing to his observations. I moved closer, glancing down at the scribbled words that now seemed more like warnings than research.

Subject 003 exhibits more than mere mimicry of language and physical traits. In a controlled setting, after teaching him the basics of English, he began displaying a level of emotional intelligence. The subject demonstrated the ability to pick up subtle emotional cues—particularly vulnerability and uncertainty—in human body language and speech patterns.

I felt a chill creeping up my spine as I read the next part.

Once these cues were detected, Subject 003 mirrored the emotional state to manipulate one of the lab technicians.

“He manipulated someone?” I asked, disbelief thick in my voice. I glanced up at Zelman, but the look on his face confirmed what I feared.

“Yes,” he said, flipping to another page. “He knew exactly what he was doing. During a feeding session, Pray intentionally mimicked the technician’s tone, softening his voice, adjusting his posture—making himself seem… compliant. Almost docile.”

I swallowed, trying to process what I was hearing. The image of Pray, monstrous and deadly, flickered in my mind, but now it was overlaid with something far more terrifying: cunning. Intent.

Zelman tapped the next section of his notes, and I leaned in closer to read:

Pray’s change in behavior caused the technician to interpret him as less threatening, leading to an additional meal being offered outside of protocol.

“It’s something to look out for when teaching him,” Zelman said, his voice tense. “Don’t get me wrong,” he said, softening his voice, “‘I’m not trying to discourage you. No, I would like to see Pray civil and compliant. Just, don’t ever let your guard down with him, he is..a hollow thing wearing a human mask.” 

I nodded. There was strength in Zelman’s words, strange as it felt. I knew I had to try, but I also had to be careful not to let Pray take advantage of me. It felt like stepping onto a battlefield I had no chance of winning, yet, for some reason, I didn’t want to give up. If there was any hope of finding something human within Pray, any trace of light in the darkness and bloodshed, maybe I was the one who could uncover it. His fixation might be the key. And now I had a purpose beyond my role at this facility: to guide Pray toward understanding what it means to be human.

With renewed determination, I headed back to my lab. As I reached the door, I noticed it was already unlocked. Odd. I stepped inside and spotted a man hunched over my lab desk, white hair tied back in a low ponytail, glasses perched on his nose, his focus entirely on my notes. Wait—who even was this guy?