I descended the stairs.
The dim staircase stretched deep into the dark, the bottom lost from sight. A greasy film coated the handrail, and the lighting was kept to a bare minimum. The only things illuminating our path were the guide lights embedded low in the walls.
Looking back, I saw the Bouncer standing by the door. He gave a sharp nod, a silent assurance that he would handle things upstairs. The Doctor gave a brief wave, and I followed him down with a shrug.
Once we reached the bottom, it was like stepping into another world.
The space was narrow but meticulously organized. In the center sat a medical bed, surrounded by walls lined with monitors and medical equipment, all of it pristine and well-maintained. It was a high-tech lab that made the ruinous atmosphere outside feel like a lie.
"Well then—shall we?"
The Doctor rolled up the sleeves of his white coat. There wasn't a hint of tension in his voice; he sounded as casual as if he were about to prep a light lunch.
The "Believer" lay on the bed. His clothes had been removed, and his body was secured firmly with restraints. Steel bands bit into the skin of his neck, wrists, and ankles. On the monitor, his heart rate pulsed in a steady, rhythmic line.
"...He's still alive," I muttered.
The Doctor flashed a grin. "Naturally. You can't observe a corpse, can you?"
I answered his quip with nothing more than a look.
The Doctor moved quickly, preparing his instruments and laying out a sterile cloth. Using the tip of a pair of laser tweezers, he made a small incision on the Believer’s arm.
Blood should have seeped out. But it didn't.
Instead, the skin closed on its own. The cut sealed itself shut as if time were being rewound.
"Ho... now this is incredible."
The Doctor’s eyes sparkled. He placed the small tissue sample under a microscope and projected the magnified image onto a monitor. The cellular activity was off the charts. It was repeating a cycle of self-destruction and regeneration at a frantic, impossible speed.
"This isn't just self-repair. It’s more like... self-overwriting."
The tiny sample twitched. Then, in the next heartbeat, it simply crumbled into a pile of ash.
"It dies the moment it's separated from the host. Is the control mechanism internal?"
Muttering with excitement, the Doctor moved to draw blood. He had to force the needle in, the skin resisting the puncture as if it were a sentient barrier. He managed to collect a few drops, but the moment the blood entered the tube, it began to foam.
"...His blood is boiling."
The liquid in the test tube bubbled and churned, turning a deep, sickly black. It was thick and viscous, like oil that had been left to rot for years.
"The degradation is too rapid. It’s as if years of time are passing for this blood in a matter of seconds."
The Doctor spoke to himself as he watched the monitor. I stood beside him with my arms crossed, watching the process in silence. The basement was quiet, filled only with the hum of machinery and the sound of our breathing.
"Next, we look inside."
The Doctor swapped tools. This time, however, his scalpel wouldn't bite. Beneath the skin, the muscle layer was as hard as steel.
"Hey, Doctor. That might be a lost cause."
"No problem."
He smirked and pulled out a laser cutter. A red line traced the flesh, accompanied by a sharp sizzle and the smell of something burning.
It wasn't the smell of burnt meat. It was the scent of scorched resin—exactly like the smell of a prosthetic being dismantled.
"...He's supposed to be biological, but he smells like a machine."
"Yeah. The structure of the muscle tissue must be entirely different."
The Doctor used a weak, continuous laser to suppress the regeneration as he slowly opened the abdomen. When the cavity finally fell open, I reflexively held my breath.
The interior was a nightmare.
There were no digestive organs. Instead, two sets of hearts and lungs were crammed unnaturally into the space. Bundles of nerves were tangled together like tree roots, snaking through the other organs.
"It’s a miracle this thing is even functioning..."
"Yeah. Biologically, this shouldn't be possible. It’s like the body is being forced to move like a machine."
The Doctor paused his work, his eyes narrowing as he spotted something.
"...What's this? Hey, look."
Tucked between the organs was something that had been sewn into place. It was a pink, soft-looking mass. Its shape... resembled a miniature brain.
"A brain...? No, the scale is all wrong."
The Doctor carefully applied the scalpel to the sutures. The threads snapped one by one. A metallic scent wafted through the air, and the atmosphere in the room grew heavy.
At that exact moment, the Believer on the bed bucked violently.
"Doctor, wait—"
Before I could finish, the Believer’s eyes snapped open. The whites were stained a dark color, and a network of black, vein-like lines spread across his pupils. The restraints groaned under the strain. With a violent crack, the legs of the bed buckled, sending metal sliding across the floor.
"Whoops, you're awake? Talk about a quick recovery!"
The Doctor laughed, reaching for an emergency anesthetic. A flailing arm grazed my shoulder; the muscles were bulging as if they were about to explode, and I could see something squirming beneath the skin.
"Doctor, hurry up!"
"I'm trying! ...Damn, it's not taking!"
He fired the anesthetic gun, but the Believer didn't even flinch. His jaw hung open, the sound of teeth grinding against teeth echoing in the small room. A distorted, nonsensical prayer leaked from his throat.
《O God, return to us—》
With a thunderous snap, the restraints shattered. I reflexively drew my gun and shot him through the knee. Blood splattered, but the wound sealed almost instantly.
Just as the Believer was about to pounce on me, the Doctor used a pickup tool to yank the "mini-brain" out of the chest cavity.
The Believer froze instantly. He collapsed back onto the bed, his body going limp. In the blink of an eye, the stench of rot filled the room. His skin bubbled, his flesh turned black, and smoke began to rise from his open abdomen.
"...Is he dead?"
The Doctor exhaled. On the silver tray, the severed "brain" continued to twitch. Nerve-like fibers squirmed, reaching out as if searching for something in the air.
"...It’s still alive."
"It's just a reflex, probably. The real question is: what the hell is it?"
The Doctor grabbed a transparent container, picked up the brain with tweezers, and dropped it inside. Submerged in the liquid, the object began to glow with a pale blue light, pulsing rhythmically.
"...It's a neural signal. This thing is transmitting data."
"To where?"
"Who knows? Maybe straight to 'God'."
The Doctor laughed, though I couldn't tell if he was joking. I stared at the pulsing light in silence. It flared for a brief second, and a bubble burst on the surface of the liquid. It looked exactly like a final breath.
It was then that a small sound came from the pod behind us.
Glub...
An air bubble floated to the surface of the preservation fluid and popped.
I turned around to see the "boy" in the pod slowly opening his eyes. His gaze, devoid of any light, stared straight at us.
Under the cold, clinical lights of the lab, no one dared to speak. The only sound was the heavy echo of our own held breath.