â—‡Assistant Halesâ—‡
â—‡Reporting for duty, as always.â—‡
—◇—
[It's been a few years since the incident, and even now, it's still only whispered in the places hidden away from the cameras.]
[Hales, the assistant to Dr. Silver, a childhood friend who had only gotten the position through recommendation.]
[It was a pity, really. Hales would have never been accepted, chronic illness and a weak immune system don't exactly belong in the Blacksite. But they refused to be separated.]
[An awful choice, sickness hit like the plague, Hales was stuck bedridden for weeks. And everyone felt bad for the poor bastards who had to work under Dr. Silver at that time.]
[And then, one day, Hales emerged. Shorter, paler, skittish.]
[Some kind of fucking doll.]
[Porcelain skin was fragile, but deflected sickness easily. We could hear the faint whirring of mechanical parts inside him.]
[And every Sunday, without fail, maintenance day, all the cracks over the week, once filled with shimmering silver or gold, maybe even a glittery blue, were fixed without trace.]
[I can't tell if I'm jealous, or if I feel bad for him.]
—◇—
