The lab was cold. God, it was cold.

A small whimper sounded from the center of the room. A metal table sat alone, squeaking and groaning as the figure lying on it writhed.

"Look at the thing, the magnificent thing... Don't you see it's potential, Cassie?"

The shadows were pleased.

Cass sat on an office chair, spinning around until her stomach ached and the room tilted on its axis. "If I were you, I'd stop squirming. If you're still it makes the process hurt less..." She murmured, though she didn't care much for the guy's discomfort. Not really. Lucy was the one who threw him in here, muttering something about new people. Wasn't her fault.

"Look, I know this old manhole can bring you down, gets under your skin like you're already six feet under, but it isn't that bad... Cabin fever's a bitch, huh?"

In her hand sat a rusted bolt. Slightly amused, feeling stranger than usual today, Cass tossed it to the figure. He flinched, but he didn't move to get up.

He couldn't, really. His arm had been welded to the table.

"Stupid boy. Couldn't stay still for two seconds. Not like Daddy at all..."

"You're stir-crazy? Or maybe you're just nervous? Scared?"

Cass shifted her weight, rolling the chair to the table, peering over the body with a keen, unsettling interest. The man squirmed uncomfortably.

"Now, are we gonna do this or not? I got tons of Shadows waiting for their chance to taste your blood. Just one could give you enough strength to tear your arm from the table. All you gotta do is—" The door to the lab squeaked open.

The guy called for help.