Yazmina leaned back in her chair, eyes fixed on the scorpion as it settled into the temporary enclosure. The weight of her actions hadn't fully sunk in yet, but the reasoning behind them was crystal clear.

She knew exactly what would have happened if she had left the creature in that lab.

Dr. Crane wasn’t just studying the scorpion for his own curiosity. No—his research always had an end goal, one that led straight into the hands of someone far worse.

Harley Sawyer.

Yazmina’s fingers curled slightly. She had already seen it happen before.

The rabbit.

At first, it had just been another test subject. Just another experiment in Crane’s endless pursuit of “progress.” But then, its resilience had been noted—how it survived longer than it should have, how it reacted to Poppy gas differently than expected. And just like that, it was no longer Crane’s project.

It became Sawyer’s.

And Sawyer didn’t study things.

He used them.

Yazmina had no doubt that this scorpion would have followed the same path. Its resistance to Poppy gas would have caught Sawyer’s attention. And from there, a new plan would have taken shape—another grotesque innovation for his twisted ambitions.

Another creation, just like all the others.

Her jaw tightened.

She had seen enough of what happened to Sawyer’s projects.

The stitched-together horrors that roamed these halls. The things that had once been people, animals—living beings—twisted into something else.

If this scorpion had the potential to change the course of his work, then keeping it out of his hands was a necessity.

Her fingers tapped lightly against the desk.

Of course, she wasn’t just doing this to stop Sawyer.

She wanted to understand this creature for herself.

If it could withstand Poppy gas—then maybe, just maybe, it held a piece of the answer she had been searching for.

A connection.

To it. To her.

Yazmina smirked faintly, eyes gleaming in the dim light.

Let’s see what you can do.

She reached out, her fingertips brushing against the smooth surface of the glass. The scorpion twitched, its tail coiling slightly, sensing the presence looming over it.

Unlike the others, it didn’t react with hostility.

It simply watched her.

Yazmina narrowed her eyes.

“Smart, aren’t you?” she murmured.

The scorpion shifted, the movement almost calculated. It wasn’t aggressive, wasn’t frantic like the others that had been trapped in cages for testing.

No, this one had patience.

And something told Yazmina that it understood far more than it should.

She pulled back, exhaling slowly.

It was a good thing she had taken it when she did. Crane would be returning soon, and once he realized the swap had been made, there would be no going back.

A part of her wondered how long it would take before suspicion fell on her.

Not that it mattered.

She had spent years walking among monsters.

She knew how to play the part when needed.

And if Sawyer wanted this scorpion so badly?

He would have to look for it himself.

Because as long as it was in her hands—she would be the one to uncover its secrets.

And no one else.

---

Yazmina didn’t sleep that night.

She sat at her desk, eyes never leaving the scorpion as it moved within its enclosure, testing the edges, its tail flicking subtly. It wasn’t acting out of fear. No—there was something methodical about its movements, as if it was studying its new environment just as much as she was studying it.

Her fingers tapped against the desk in slow, rhythmic beats.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Her mind raced with possibilities.

The rabbit had been the first breakthrough. And now, this scorpion—the only specimen Crane had ever found that was completely resistant to Poppy gas—had almost fallen into Sawyer’s hands.

What would he have done with it?

What new thing would he have tried to create?

She leaned forward, resting her chin against her hand. It didn’t matter now. The scorpion was hers. And for the first time in a long while, a deep, familiar curiosity flickered in her chest.

She wanted to know why.

Why had it survived exposure when so many others failed? Was it a biological quirk? A mutation? Or something far more intricate?

Her other research projects had led her to dead ends. But this…

This might be different.

She took a slow breath, forcing herself to remain calm.

One step at a time.

First, she needed to test its reactions—to different stimuli, to different conditions. But carefully. If it was special, she couldn’t risk damaging it the way the others had been.

Sawyer and Crane only cared about results.

She had the luxury of understanding.

Her fingers traced the edge of the desk.

She had to move carefully now. Crane was smart, and while he had no reason to suspect her yet, that wouldn’t last. If she wanted to keep her new research hidden, she had to be meticulous.

And she had to be patient.

Yazmina finally leaned back, exhaling through her nose as she flicked off the desk lamp, casting the room into shadow. The scorpion’s silhouette remained visible in the dim moonlight.

It wasn’t afraid of the dark.

Neither was she.

Her lips curled slightly.

Let’s see what you’re really capable of.

---

The following days passed in a blur of careful observation and meticulous planning. Yazmina ensured that her routine remained unchanged, leaving no room for suspicion.

She attended her scheduled shifts, reviewed reports with practiced indifference, and even engaged in the occasional small talk with the other researchers. But the moment she returned to her dormitory, her true work began.

Each night, she documented the scorpion’s behavior in painstaking detail.

It was resilient, far more than any ordinary specimen. Exposure to varying doses of Poppy gas did nothing to it—no signs of distress, no physiological changes. The same gas that could twist and corrupt living beings into something unnatural had no effect on this creature.

But that wasn’t all.

Its movements were precise, almost deliberate. It didn’t lash out in mindless aggression like most of Crane’s test subjects. It observed, reacting only when necessary.

It was intelligent.

And Yazmina wasn’t sure if that should excite her—or unsettle her.

Because as the days passed, she couldn’t shake the growing sensation that she was the one being studied.

The scorpion would still when she entered the room, its body motionless save for the faintest twitch of its tail. It tracked her movements, its eyes gleaming in the dim light.

She should have been unnerved.

But instead—

She felt understood.