Experiment

Subject Matter

One month later.

My heart pounds in my chest, making my ribcage feel tight and my lungs constricted with its deafening rhythm. I sneak deep through the old underground corridors of the DWMA, abandoned for some reason or another. This corridor is dark, dingy and I can smell the harsh chemicals burning up into my nostrils. They give me hope. I don't know if they have what I'm looking for down here, but the chemical smell fills me with a faith I've never before experienced. The walls down here are made of old stone, rotting away and degrading until they will vanish to withered sand, easily crushed underfoot. I pass an archway and smile as I see what's inside; a sterile biology lab with all the equipment I need for my experiments.

I left my room earlier tonight in search of somewhere abandoned to perform my experiments. Somewhere like my old lab but less bloody. This place seems formidable enough, I surmise as my eyes scan the stacked Petri dishes and the eye-wash stations and advanced microscopes. Yes, this will do nicely. There is even a large operating table placed in the centre like it's been gift-wrapped for me. I will need to sterilise it. After all, I plan to experiment on Spirit a few times, so infecting him on the first operation won't be very beneficial.

"Good evening young Franken Stein,"

At this voice my blood runs cold, and my response catches in my throat. Thoughts interrupted by terror and panic. I whirl around to see Lord Death standing behind me, his emotionless mask once again somehow showing emotions. He looks so sinister and dangerous, although I'm sure that's not the extent of his intimidating stature.

"You should know not to be wandering around here after hours," Death warns with a wagging finger and darkness in his words. Despite being alone, he hushes to a whisper. "Those who do can fall into a pit of madness from which they never escape,"

There are a few seconds of silence between us, before Death regains his happy-go-lucky façade. I wonder for a moment if he has multiple personality disorder. It would explain his strangeness certainly. But then, nothing is ever truly certain. I nod dutifully, and Death slinks off to wherever he was before he decided to sneak up on me. Once I am sure he is out of earshot, I giggle slightly to myself. Pit of madness? I am the epitome of madness. Death says I have madness in me already, so I'm safe right? I had imagined that when he caught me I would be in trouble, but all I got was a cryptic warning for my mental health. What a fool Death is.
I hope he doesn't actually expect me to heed that warning.

I nod in satisfaction, and for a second something pulls at the back of my mind, a groaning voice so hoarse it seems to be strangling on its own words. The voice tells me I want to explore the underground of the school further. But I shake this feeling off. If Death catches me a second time I doubt he will be so forgiving. So I realise that I have what I came for, and scamper back up to my room.

^

When I return, Spirit is still up and leaning at the window, smoking.

"Hey," he greets, throwing the packet over to me. I pull out a thin stick and wrinkle my nose.

"Ew!" I laugh in mock disgust. "You smoke menthol!"

"Shut up," Spirit grumbles, more self-conscious than actually angry. I see his bottom lip pouting slightly. Cute. At least he didn't ask where I was.

"You're twelve. You shouldn't even be smoking," Spirit protests.

"I'm nearly thirteen," I protest back even though I have no idea when my birthday is. Which just makes Spirit laugh. I'm surprised, although I shouldn't be, that he still hasn't noticed when I'm playing games with him. Pretending to be a normal twelve year old, acting childish - an act he is easily falling for. I'm sure Death sees through it, but Spirit doesn't. So I keep acting and wait for him to become wise. This is useful data for figuring out if he can be my experiment or not. Figuring out how long it takes Spirit to realise the obvious. I need more data. The best way to gather more data? Experiment of course.

Once I am sure he is asleep, I test his sleep patterns. I shout, shake him and finally, cut him with my nail. I'm impressed at how heavy a sleeper he is. I can't think of much use for that talent, other than to be my subject. At least he's using his talent for the good of humanity. Well not humanity, but science. And that's more important than humanity. I'll make further tests the next night, but for now sleep is calling and I curse my child's body for becoming tired so easily. I wouldn't even be in this mess if it wasn't for my falling asleep mid-operation when transplanting my kidney. Death told me it was severe blood loss which made me faint, but I know it was just my body being weak. I pull the covers over myself and snuggle in, falling asleep rather easily.

The next night.

Dragging Spirit down the spiral staircase of the school isn't the easiest thing in the world. He isn't only taller than me, but he is broad with some muscle, and I am skinny with almost nothing, so hauling him downstairs isn't very comfortable and it takes a long time. At least he hasn't woken yet, which is incredibly fascinating. His sleep patterns alone are abnormal and interesting enough for their own scientific document. My Hypothesis is that he hibernates when he sleeps, that his heart slows down when his eyes close and brain activity decreases to a large extent. That will be easy to determine once I cut him open. Speaking of cutting him open, I find my lab underground.

I tenderly lay Spirit down on the operating table, watching his skin shiver instinctively from the cold metal. I slowly strip him, watching the material fall and expose his sallow skin. The ripples in his muscles, his pre-pubescent physique lost all of its childish qualities and has become lanky. There is no doubt that in some years Spirit will be attractive. N-Not that I think about that! Dammit Stein, you are a scientist. You must be purely scientific about this. Ignore the soft red hair framing that attractive face, the tender pouting of lips-

No!

I sterilise a scalpel that has been left out, and begin by drawing lines on Spirit, over his heart is where I will cut first, to see the rate of beating when he sleeps. Not too deep...don't cut the aorta renal...

I expose his white bone, pressing my fingers on his skin and allowing them to sink into the sea of flowing blood. It's not arterial. Spirit is fine. Do I have...? Dammit, there isn't a bone saw. I need one to observe his heart properly, but for now I peek between his ribs. Still, I remain oblivious to his intricate workings. I curse myself and throw the scalpel down. I had come all this way for nothing. I sew up Spirit's wound, the stitches not as prominent as my own. With limited equipment and time I must focus on the more simple operations. Ones I can do without specialist tools.

I pull Spirit back up the the room and dump him roughly on the bed, pouring some of his liquor (which he hides under the drawers and thinks I don't know about) onto his wound to minimise risk of infection. I half expect him to wake up from this, but he stays sleeping. His body clock is like...well, clockwork.

"Remarkable!" I exclaim, truly excited about a subject for the first time in a long time. And this subject matters to me a lot. At my shouting Spirit stirs just the tiniest bit. I squeal, knowing how much explaining I would have to do if he woke up now. I hurriedly dress him back in his pyjamas, surprisingly easy for someone so large.

I jump into my own bed, and for the first time in a while I'm glad to fall asleep.