COVELENT: XenoTrait

Abel looked at the starfish and said, "Can I cook it first?"

Felix replied, "No, you can’t... you have to taste the blood and all that.....trust the process."

Abel looked at the starfish, held his nose, and chucked the sample.

A violent surge shot through him, deep and visceral, unlike anything he had felt before. His muscles tensed violently, like iron cables winding tight beneath his skin. His bones rattled, not breaking, but straining against some invisible structure within him.

He fell to a knee, gasping as his body convulsed. His arms jerked involuntarily, claws to fingers digging into the reinforced floor.

Flesh seemed to warp and twist beneath his skin, veins pulsing unnaturally as if they had a mind of their own. For a second, his reflection in the dim chamber lights when he caught and it didn’t look human.

Pain flared, spreading from his core to every limb.

The sensation was both alien and intimate... he could feel his cells regenerating, rebuilding, reshaping, stretching tendons and muscle fibers in directions that were impossible, unnatural, yet somehow synchronized.

But something else an instinct, a resistance pulled against it.

"Ahh...!" he shouted, though it was half agony, half disbelief.

His vision blurred, shadows dancing along the walls.

Felix remained still across the chamber. He had predicted intensity, but the chaos in Abel’s body was even greater than he anticipated. His own pulse remained steady. Calm. Observant and calculating.

Abel’s body arched, trembled, then collapsed forward, slamming one hand against the floor to support himself. The flailing, twisting, and writhing subsided as suddenly as it had begun.

He lay there, gasping.

The shadows of transformation receded. He flexed his fingers cautiously. His limbs looked human again. Skin unbroken, intact. But he felt... hollow. As though part of the experience had been snatched back from him.

"...Di... did I do it?" he whispered hoarsely.

Felix stepped forward slowly, hands clasped behind his back. "Partially," he said. "Your body resisted full integration. The traits pushed... but your body pulled back."

Abel sat up, chest heaving. "...So all that... was for nothing?"

"Not nothing." Felix’s voice remained calm. "It confirmed your limits."

Abel’s gaze hardened. "Limits." The word tasted bitter. "...Meaning what?"

Felix crouched slightly, eyes level with him. "It means you can receive enhancements. You can respond to organisms. But you cannot evolve the same way I do. Not yet... not fully. Not in the way that reshapes your biology completely."

Abel flexed his hands again, staring at them. "So I’m... stuck?"

Felix didn’t answer immediately. He reached for a blade lying nearby. The metal glinted faintly under the chamber lights. "Not stuck," he said. "But restricted." He lifted Abel’s right hand gently. "Let’s see something else."

Abel stiffened. "...Wait, what?"

Slice.

A clean cut along the finger next to his pinky. Abel’s eyes went wide as immediate pain flared, but it lasted only a heartbeat.

The wound pulsed, blazed faintly for two seconds, then sealed perfectly. No scar. No drop of blood.

He froze, staring at Felix. "...How?"

Felix’s lips pressed into a thin line. "You don’t have the same genetic limitations I do. That’s why your body can stabilize traits partially, but not fully integrate them and use them anytime like me but you can do i too but it will wear off in time."

Abel exhaled, trying to process. His pulse still raced from the transformation earlier. "...So I can try again... with something else?"

"Yes." Felix picked up another container. "But we must proceed carefully. One variable at a time."

Abel nodded slowly and thought, "I don’t like it, but I understand.

The prototype serum isn’t forgiving. Every step forward has consequences. Every choice leaves marks, sometimes invisible."

A faint shuffle echoed outside the chamber.

Rose paused, one hand lingering against the metal frame of the door.

Her eyes scanned the room. Machines. Containment units. The faint gleam of fluids. And Felix standing motionless, reviewing data with his back to her.

She stepped in, careful not to startle him. "You’ve been busy," she said softly.

Felix didn’t turn immediately. He sensed her presence—calm, yet insistent. "I work," he said, voice flat but even.

She walked a step closer. "And... you always do it alone?"

Felix finally glanced at her, eyes narrowed slightly, "Efficiency doesn’t require company."

She raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Efficiency doesn’t sound very fun."

He didn’t reply.

She studied him, really looked, and noticed subtle shifts in his posture when he thought she wasn’t observing.

A flicker in the way he held himself, slight tension in his jaw. She thought, "He hides his humanity well under his mask of control."

"I didn’t expect to find anyone else here," she said, stepping closer. "Not in this sector."

Felix’s gaze lingered on her just a fraction longer than necessary. "...You shouldn’t be here," he said.

"And yet, I am," she replied, a faint note of challenge in her voice.

Her fingers flexed unconsciously, brushing against the railing near the containment tanks.

A small silence followed.

"...Your presence is... distracting," Felix said. His tone was calm, almost neutral, but she caught the edge of unspoken attention in his eyes.

Rose’s smile widened just slightly. "Is that so?" she asked, leaning just a little forward, testing the air. "I wouldn’t have thought you noticed."

Felix’s jaw tightened imperceptibly. "...I notice what I need to."

She tilted her head, studying him. "And what is it you notice?"

He didn’t answer immediately. He thought, "Maybe it’s the way she holds herself.

Observant, quick, and careful. She wasn’t like the others in this facility. She wasn’t a clone of efficiency, not yet. She was alive. And something about that... intrigues me."

"...You’re different," she said softly, almost hesitant.

Felix finally turned fully to face her, eyes locking with hers. "...Different how?"

"From... everyone else here," she replied, searching for words. "You seem... present. Not just focused on work. Not just a machine."

He studied her for a long moment, then looked away, glancing at one of the containment units. "This place doesn’t allow much presence."

Her gaze followed his, curious. "...Maybe that’s why it feels so heavy here. But you..." She hesitated. "...You feel different... lighter."

He said nothing, but her words lingered. She smiled faintly, sensing the subtle shift in his demeanor.

"You talk less than I expected," she noted, stepping closer. "...And yet, I feel like you’re saying more than you realize."

Felix’s eyes flicked toward her hand, which she kept close to her chest. "...Observant, I see," he said.

She let out a quiet laugh, soft and unpracticed. "...Or curious, are you?"

Another pause hung between them.

"I don’t usually do this," she said, voice low, almost confessional. "...But I like knowing who’s in the room with me."

Felix didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he studied her.

The way her expression shifted as she spoke, how her posture softened yet remained purposeful. There was a warmth there, a subtle vulnerability masked by curiosity.

"...You trust easily," he said finally, his tone flat, but not unkind.

She smiled faintly. "Maybe too easily. But... I trust you."

Felix’s jaw tightened for the briefest moment. "...That could be a mistake."

"Maybe," she replied. "...But it’s mine to make."

Her words held no arrogance, just certainty. He didn’t respond. He didn’t move away either. For once, he let the silence speak.

"...If you’re going to stay here," he said quietly, voice lowering just slightly, "...do not interfere with my work."

Rose tilted her head, a teasing note in her expression. "Wasn’t planning to."

The silence stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was charged, small sparks of understanding weaving between them.

Then she finally stepped back slightly. "...I’ll leave for now. But... don’t think this is the last time you’ll see me."

He said nothing, but the brief glance he gave her as she walked away lingered longer than it should have.

And for the first time that day, Felix allowed himself the tiniest fraction of acknowledgment.

A thought arose, "Perhaps this presence, this person, might not just be a complication that is in my control.....and I really don’t mind it that much."

A smile then arose from his once serious expression.

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