The door to the high-security containment block slid shut with a resonant thud. Click. The reinforced steel and glass cell sealed behind Doctor Naehr, cutting him off from the world in shades of darkness and clinical light.
Inside, he sat on a narrow cot, expression calm. His black hair, damp from the storm's humidity that still seethed in the hallways, clung in sleek strands to his skull. Nad his lab coat draped over his thin frame — as if he wore his grandeur for the walls to see.
He hadn't flinched when they cuffed him. He hadn't screamed when they dragged him in. He only reached up and smoothed his hair, as if preparing for an audience.
The guards left, the door sealing with an electronic lock. On the wall across from him, a USB-sized biometric monitor blinked, recording vitals remotely. Naehr watched it blankly.
Then he smiled — slowly, deliberately — as though the darkness itself leaned in to listen.
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