"I've… never seen something like this."
Crenan stood frozen in front of the glowing monitor, a nervous, twitching smile pulling at his lips. There was a strange mix in his expression—shock, disbelief, and an almost childlike glee that made my skin crawl. He was thrilled. Not in a good way. The kind of thrill a butcher gets when he finds a particularly rare animal to cut open.
When the scan finally powered down with a faint hum, the cylinder slid open with a hiss, and I stepped out, still sitting on the bed. Crenan turned toward me slowly, smiling like he'd just won the lottery.
"We'll need to run further investigations," he said. "We might need to remove your armor. Just a quick look—"
He reached for my chest plate with a gloved hand.
I caught his wrist mid-motion, my fingers curling around his forearm.
I knew that look in his eyes. It wasn't curiosity. It was vivisection-level obsession. He wasn't going to study me—he was going to tear me apart to see what made me tick.
