Lab Rats Krane Novels & Stories

It had been close to forty seconds but it felt like they had been waiting for several minutes. “I don't think it is working.” Ryan sighed. “It has only been forty seconds, son.” Grey glanced at him. “I know, I know but...” “Hold on,” Grey raised his hand and then called his attention to the rat. Ryan stopped and looked at the subject on the desk. The rat started to move from side to side, making horrible sounds. His tiny eyes swelled, becoming bigger and bigger. The same thing happened to its belly and tiny legs. It swelled and its color morphed into crimson.

A noise report. My jaw tightened. I felt it then…heat crawling up my neck, rage licking at my control. “There’s nothing down there for you,” I said evenly. “The basement houses laboratory specimens. I have permits.” “Specimens?” he echoed. “Yes,” I replied without missing a beat. “Genetically sensitive laboratory rats. A special breed. Highly reactive. Harmful if mishandled.” It wasn’t even a lie. Not entirely. The officer didn’t look convinced. “I’ll need to verify that,” he said, stepping closer. “Unlock the door.”

"This is everything." We started reading. --- The experiments were worse than I imagined. Not just surrogates. Children. Born in the facilities. Raised without names. Trained to be weapons. "They have no identities," I said. "No families. No homes." "They have no choice." "Neither did I. But I got lucky." Kael took my hand. "You got brave." "Same thing." --- One name appeared again and again. Dr. Marcus Crane. "Who is that?" "Voss's lead scientist. He designed the experiments. He ran the facilities."

The Labyrinth Entry The entrance gaped like a beast’s throat—twenty metres wide, as tall, a stone arch flayed by floodlights so that deep carvings cast jagged shadows. Labrys marks—double axes—glimmered where water ran down grooves older than empires. Cables snaked along the ground, feeding rows of lamps that pushed the dark only so far. The air tasted of oil, hot metal, and men who worked too long. Stephanos slipped inside, keeping low, a mouse that knew the hawks by name.

If only he had more knowledge on medicinal herbs then he would've the pleasure to explore this treasure hive. Nonetheless, he stopped thinking about it and continued on his way. He still looked around seeing a lot of snakes slithering on the dirty humus and some on the tree trunks looking at him, in preparation for an attack. It was amusing to look at their hissing postures and cold eyes that looked funny no matter how much he looked at them. If it was somebody else they wouldn't have found anything amusing about these dangerous varmints.

If he was tattooed anyway, it meant he, too, had been born under the care of Doctor Christopher Krynick. That didn't make sense. According to the historical record, Doctor Krynick's labs had only been the first generation he had kept for research. Nothing was known that he had also bred proles. But if he did, the original scope of the disaster would be much greater than we had previously assumed. I looked up at Reese and the way he frowned, he was probably thinking similar thoughts.

Aria The footage playing on Darren’s laptop made my stomach churn. Lunar Labs had been reduced to smoldering ruins. The lab equipment was smashed, documents scattered and burned, walls blackened by fire. But worst of all were the messages spray-painted across what remained of the walls: “WOLF KILLERS,” “ANIMALS, NOT PEOPLE,” “DEATH TO MOON FREAKS.” I had to look away just to keep my tears from spilling over. Beside me, Darren’s jaw was clenched as he watched the camera pan across the destruction.

he says, returning to repair the car. He isn't a nerd. He can never be. I observe his back as he walks away. It broadens with layers of muscle and makes the neck wider at the base. He's fit for a nerd. No nerd I've known has a muscular body. They were too busy training their brains, and, worst of all, they would never get a tattoo.

Casie decided, already moving toward the stairs. Nathaniel's phone buzzed with an incoming call. His expression darkened as he answered. "Thornwood." After a brief pause, he looked up, tension radiating through their bond. "It's too late. Krane was found dead in his home twenty minutes ago. Same blood pattern." "Dammit," Casie muttered, frustration building. "They're always one step ahead." "Not necessarily," Valeria said, pocketing her instrument. "The blood ritual takes time to complete. If Krane was killed recently, the Magpie might still be processing what they learned."

Keiral I hadn’t been able to focus since Ellan walked out of the lab. My head was a mess, my pulse wouldn’t settle, and Krav’s blood still glowed like it was mocking me from the microscope tray. The sample pulsed blue every few seconds, a low thrum like a heartbeat that wasn’t mine. I’d just started recording the readings again when the door hissed open. Krav stepped in, his frame too big for the doorway, his expression unreadable. His eyes were that sharp, impossible shade between human blue and something far older.