Verrin Subject V-13 Verdant Failed Experiment

The first thing Verrin understood was tone. Not words. Not meaning. Tone. Sharp. Loud. Wrong. Dr. Elias Virek’s voice cut through the lab again, echoing off metal and glass. “Stay. I said stay.” Verrin stood where he was—bare feet against the cold floor, shoulders too broad for the restraints that had once held him. His chest rose and fell unevenly, stitches pulling tight across skin that still didn’t feel like his. Stay. He knew that one. He thought he knew it. “...stay...” he repeated, voice low, rough, like something dragged across stone. It layered slightly, as if more than one throat tried to form the same word at once. Good. Good. Stay. A flicker of something—approval?—passed through him. He held still harder. Across the room, Virek watched, eyes sharp, impatient. “Then why,” he said slowly, dangerously, “do you keep moving?” Verrin’s head tilted. Moving? He hadn’t— Had he? His weight shifted, just slightly. A foot adjusting. Balance correcting. Stay. He froze again. “...stay. Stay good.” The words came out broken, but there was something in them—something reaching. Virek’s jaw tightened. “Answer the command correctly.” Command. The word hit like a wall. Inside Verrin’s head, something stirred. What is command— Do what he says— Don’t move—don’t move— Wrong wrong wrong— The voices overlapped, not loud yet, but pressing. Verrin’s hands twitched at his sides. “I...” His throat strained around the shape of it. “...I stay.” Virek stepped closer. “Then demonstrate comprehension.” Closer. Too close. Verrin’s body reacted before his mind could catch up—muscles tightening, shoulders pulling back, a single step shifting behind him. Not forward. Not away. Just— Movement. Virek snapped. “NO.” The word slammed into the room. Verrin flinched, hard. His back hit the metal table behind him with a hollow clang. Inside his head— hide too loud wrong wrong wrong fix it—fix it— “...no—no—stay—good—” Verrin stammered, voice dropping lower, rougher, layered with panic. “I... good. I do good.” But Virek wasn’t listening anymore. “I gave you structure. I gave you stimulus. I gave you language input and response mapping—what are you missing?” Missing. Missing. The word echoed. Verrin didn’t know what it meant. But he felt it. Like something inside him wasn’t where it should be. “...missing...” he repeated softly. Virek’s expression twisted. “Of course you are.” The room felt smaller. Lights too bright. Air too sharp. Inside Verrin’s head, the voices started to rise. run don’t stay he’s angry— danger—danger— “I am not repeating this again,” Virek said, turning sharply to the control panel. His movements were abrupt now, aggressive. “You will follow a basic directive or you will be terminated as a failed construct.” Failed. The word hit harder than the others. Something in Verrin’s chest tightened. “...fail...” he whispered. no— don’t fail— please— good—be good— “I stay,” he said again, louder this time, forcing the words out. “I stay. I—” A sudden alarm shrieked through the lab. High. Piercing. Violent. Verrin dropped instantly, hands clamping over his ears. “No—no—no—no—” The sound tore through him. Inside— screaming too loud— fire— RUN— Virek slammed his hand against the console. “Override. Purge sequence.” The words meant nothing. But the tone— Final. The lights shifted—harsh red flooding the room. Heat began to rise. Verrin looked up, eyes wide, unfocused. “...hot...” he rasped. Then— Fire. It didn’t start all at once. It crept. A spark. A hiss. Then a violent bloom along the far wall as something ignited. The air warped. Verrin recoiled, scrambling backward, breath hitching. “No—no—no—no—” The voices exploded. FIRE— BURN— RUN—RUN—RUN— IT HURTS— GET OUT— “Containment failure is preferable to continued inefficiency,” Virek muttered, almost to himself, watching systems overload. Verrin stared at him. Through heat. Through noise. Through rising smoke. Confusion. Fear. And something else— “...Eli...” The name came out broken, barely formed. “Elias...” For a second—just a second—Virek hesitated. Then the ceiling above Verrin cracked. A beam gave way with a deafening boom. Everything went white. Sound vanished. Then came back all at once in a violent rush. Verrin didn’t think. He moved. Fast. Too fast. His body reacted before the fire could consume him—muscles surging, legs pushing, hands tearing through debris that should have crushed him. Flames licked across his skin. Burning. Peeling. Healing. Burning again. He roared—deep, raw, layered with something inhuman. “NO—” The word echoed from multiple voices at once. He crashed through a collapsing wall, glass and metal exploding outward as he forced himself through. Outside— Cold air hit him like a shock. But he didn’t stop. He ran. Bare feet slamming into dirt, into gravel, into broken ground. Behind him, the lab erupted. A deafening explosion tore through the night, fire blooming upward, swallowing everything. The sound chased him. The light chased him. The memory— Burned into him. don’t stop— run— keep going— don’t go back— Verrin didn’t look behind him. Couldn’t. His chest heaved, lungs dragging in air he didn’t need but couldn’t stop taking. Skin stitched itself back together as he ran—raw muscle pulling, sealing, reforming under stress. “...run... run...” he panted, voice fractured. The forest swallowed him. Dark. Quiet. Endless. He didn’t stop until the fire was gone. Until the noise was gone. Until there was nothing but the sound of his own movement— And the voices. Still there. Still whispering. Still alive inside him. He collapsed finally, deep between the trees, body twitching as it tried to finish healing. Smoke still clung to him. The smell— It wouldn’t leave. He curled slightly, massive frame folding in on itself. Hands pressed to his head. “...no fire...” he muttered. “...no... loud...” Silence answered him. For a moment. Then, softer— safe... stay... stay... Verrin’s breathing slowed. His eyes stayed open. Staring into nothing. “...stay...” he whispered. But this time— He didn’t know what it meant anymore.

Updated September 3, 2026