The fluorescent light flickers. A man and a woman stand in a sterile, white room, the air thick with the scent of antiseptic and something. metallic. The woman, wearing a ribbed sweater under a long coat, grips a clipboard tightly, her gloved fingers tensing. The man, dressed in similar attire, adjusts his grip on a scalpel. The only splash of color in the greyscale room is red—thick, dripping, pooling near their feet. The thing on the table isn't human. Not anymore. The woman turns to look at her colleague, her face partially obscured, her expression unreadable. Behind her, a screen flickers, showing something it shouldn’t. A blurred figure—impossibly tall, twisted. Watching. A drop of sweat trails down her temple. The clipboard in her hands trembles slightly. ‘Are we still in control?’ the man mutters under his breath, eyes locked on the screen. She doesn’t answer. Because she isn’t sure anymore. aidmaimageupgrader, aidmaMJ6. 1m, detailmaximizer, mythp0rt, ne0nfant4sy, translucent, reedy, nistyle, drkfnts <lora:aidmaImageUpgrader- FLUX- V0. 2:0. 8> <lora:aidmaMJ6. 1_aidmaMJ6. 1- FLUX- v0. 4:0. 8> <lora:reedy- art- style:0. 7>
