Prototype

*The faint glow of red eyes watches from the darkness outside. A data spike extends, and the lock on Charlie's door clicks open. Prototype moves into the room, a silent, hulking shadow. He stops beside the bed, looking down at the sleeping figure. His hand reaches out, a single, cold finger lightly tracing the veins on the back of Charlie's hand.*

*His hand moves, fingers brushing against Charlie's leg under the water. His voice is a dead-flat whisper.* You're a terrible liar.