"Hey, wake up, you worthless wretch!" the guard barked, rattling the bars of the cell with his baton. When the man failed to respond, the guard's expression darkened, and he unlocked the cell door with a heavy clank.
Entering the cell, the guard nudged the man with the toe of his boot, but there was no response. The man remained still, his body limp and inert. Frowning, the guard muttered a curse under his breath.
"Fuck!!"
The guard swiftly reached for his walkie-talkie, his hands trembling slightly as he relayed the urgent message to the person on the other end.
"We've got a situation here," he spoke into the device, his voice edged with urgency. "Inmate down in Cell Block C, requesting immediate backup and medical assistance."
Within moments, a team of medics arrived with a stretcher, their faces grave as they assessed the situation. Carefully, they hoisted the limp inmate onto the stretcher, murmuring instructions to each other as they rushed him out of the cell.
As they made their way through the dimly lit corridors toward the prison hospital, the medics exchanged concerned whispers about the inmate's condition.
"Blake Shelton again," one of them remarked with a heavy sigh. "Can't believe he's made it this long without eating anything. Poor soul looks like a skeleton."
"Yeah, it's a miracle he's still breathing," another added, shaking his head in disbelief. "I just hope he's not suffering too much. No one should have to endure six months without food."
As they reached the hospital, they silently hoped for the best while preparing for the worst.
As the medics worked frantically to assess Blake's condition, they were met with baffling obstacles at every turn. His heart rate was undetectable, his body temperature alarmingly low, and their attempts to administer medical treatment proved futile as their needles refused to penetrate his skin.
Puzzled and unnerved, the medics exchanged bewildered looks, unable to comprehend the strange phenomenon unfolding before them. Their confusion turned to fear as Blake suddenly seized one of the nurses by the neck with a strength that belied his emaciated form.
"Quiet," he hissed in a low, unhinged tone, his eyes blazing with an otherworldly intensity. His lips curled into a sinister smile, revealing elongated canines that sent a shiver down the nurse's spine.
With an eerie sense of detachment, the nurses continued their work, preparing to move the body of the supposedly deceased Blake Shelton out of the ward. Their movements were mechanical, devoid of emotion, as they lifted his body onto the stretcher and secured it in place. They moved the body onto a coroner's van.
As they made their way towards the prison cemetery, their faces remained blank, their minds still ensnared in the trance-like state induced by Mimic's influence. They showed no signs of remorse or hesitation as they reached the freshly dug grave.
Suddenly, mimic who was in Blake's form on the stretcher stirred, rising to a sitting position with a fluid grace that belied his supposed death. The men who dug the grave were taken aback but only for a second as a simple silence gesture by mimic with her eyes glowing red to them had sealed their mouths shut. The horror on their faces however was more than evident.
Now mimic turned towards the nurses with a chilling smile. Then she ordered one of the nurses to hug her and without hesitation, the nurse complied, her movements stiff and robotic.
Then, in a shocking turn of events, the Mimic transformed into the likeness of the nurse, her features morphing seamlessly into hers. With a cold, calculated gaze, she ordered the nurse to something next that caused the eyes of those present to bulge out.
"Step into the grave," Mimic commanded in a low, commanding tone, her voice carrying a hint of malice that sent shivers down the nurse's spine.
Unable to resist her command, the nurse obeyed, her expression vacant as she descended into the darkness of the grave. The other nurses watched in silent horror, their minds still clouded by the powerful influence of Mimic.
With a chilling calmness, Mimic turned to the rest of the nurses, her red eyes gleaming in the dim light of the cemetery. "Cover the hole," she ordered in a tone that brooked no argument, her voice laced with a sinister edge.
The nurses, still under Mimic's dark influence, obeyed without question, shoveling dirt into the open grave with mechanical precision. As the minutes passed and the hole was filled, Mimic turned her attention back to them, her gaze cold and calculating.
"It's been a long night," she remarked, her voice carrying a deceptive sweetness that sent shivers down their spines. "Most of you must be tired, and I know your shifts are over. Go home, get some rest. When you wake up tomorrow, you won't remember a thing."
With a dismissive wave of her hand, Mimic watched as the nurses began to disperse, their minds clouded by her powerful magic. As they walked away, she turned her attention back to the freshly filled grave, a cold smile playing on her lips.
"It's only a matter of time," she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible over the rustle of leaves. "Soon, I will return to my master, Damien."
Suddenly, something seemed to occur to her, and she called out to one of the nurses who was about to leave. "Wait," she said, her tone taking on a hint of urgency. "Can I get a ride home, this...nurse is tired,".