This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.
The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/FreeVBucksforXMAS on 2025-10-25 22:51:37+00:00.
Dr. Ricketts grinned, his eyes fixed on the preparation. He carefully mixed the translucent fluid with a green paste. The two substances swirled together, forming a lime green goo that he swiftly drew into a syringe, preparing it for the first human subject.
He nodded towards our site’s correctional administrator. “Aguero!” the administrator screamed. Aguero’s tall, tan frame snapped to attention. “Retrieve the patient.”
Aguero nodded as he and Kelly swiftly exited from the secure containment zone, returning with a straggly, shorter man wearing the orange prison attire.
Dr. Ricketts held out a hand toward the patient, presenting him like a show pony to the unseen panel we knew was positioned behind the one-way mirror.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Dr. Ricketts tried to say calmly, betrayed by his own excitement, “we stand on the precipice of a new age in prisoner reform.” He cleared his throat before continuing. “For decades, we have tried to shift our criminal justice system from one of punishment to one of rehabilitation, and our labs’ latest breakthrough will chart us on a new path to fulfill our nation’s promise of life, liberty, and freedom for all.”
I rolled my eyes. I was never one for sappy overtures or ‘revolutionary’ speeches. I’d been a correctional officer at this federal facility for six years, and in that time, I’d seen plenty of so-called breakthroughs come and go. Ricketts was a gaunt figure, lean and stringy, his frame barely filling his tailored lab coat. His glasses had slid low on the rim of his nose, giving him a perpetually peering look as he glided around the room. He used his hands in wide, theatrical gestures to profess the ‘groundbreaking work’ he was about to present, but his excitement felt frantic, not genuine.
“For three tiresome years, my lab has looked to science to solve this great societal ill, and now, with this serum, we can completely eradicate man’s desire to do evil.” He held up his syringe like he had just won a trophy.
I looked over at the patient. His gaze was fixed on something none of us could see. The straggly, shorter man in the orange prison uniform had surprisingly soft features for his age, like an innocent old man who went to feed pigeons at the park on Sundays. This was the man we called ‘The Mad Doctor.’ He was infamous for the bizarre surgeries he’d performed on his victims, yet he was otherwise harmless and physically weak, precisely why Ricketts chose him. He wouldn’t pose a threat, even unrestrained.
“The prisoner before you was responsible for three counts of premeditated murder as well as a dozen disfigurements that have proven to be life-altering for his victims.” The Mad Doctor smiled, basking in Ricketts’s retelling of his crimes. “This is the face of evil. A man whose gifted mind, a mind that should be making our world better, has been twisted for inhumane purposes.”
Ricketts paused, letting his words hang in the air. The side door slid open with a mechanical hiss. Another guard, wearing a white mask, wheeled in a stainless steel cart. The smell hit me first.
It was copper and something fouler, like decay was already setting in. Matted white and brown fur was plastered to the metal surface in wet clumps, soaked through with dark blood that had pooled in the cart’s corners. The body had been systematically dismantled: limbs separated and arranged in a neat row, the ribcage splayed open like a grotesque flower.
“Even with five years of therapy, this prisoner is no better than when he entered,” Ricketts revealed, gesturing toward the cart. “Just this morning, we put him in a room with a rabbit. The monster you see before you savagely tore apart this rabbit.”
‘The Mad Doctor’ began to clap and dance around, his eyes lighting up at the sight of his handiwork. “The little squeals were exquisite!” he chirped, his voice sing-song. “I only wish I had my tools, I could have shown you something truly beautiful. Perhaps one of you would volunteer? I’ve been dreaming about your intestines, Officer Sofia.” He winked at me. “They’d make a lovely necklace.”
Aguero and Kelly started to grab for his arms when Ricketts waved them away with his hand.
“Let him enjoy his last moments of insanity, for he will be the first recipient of the ‘ANGEL’ treatment,” Ricketts said mellowly, cleaning his glasses before giving his syringe two flicks of the finger.
The administrator gave a slow nod. Four of us, including me, grabbed ‘the Mad Doctor’ and forced him into his restraints. They seemed a slight overkill; aside from his little outburst, he had remained mostly docile, but a glance over to the cart reminded me of the danger he still possessed.
Ricketts looked longingly at the one-way mirror as he solemnly nodded, “To a new frontier.” He jammed the needle deep into ‘the Mad Doctor’s’ arm.
At first, ‘the Mad Doctor’ remained calm, his eyes glazed over, seemingly accepting his fate. Then his pupils dilated until the blue was almost completely swallowed by black. His breathing quickened, short, rapid gasps like a drowning man.
All at once, his body began to convulse violently against the restraints. The leather straps creaked under the strain as his spine arched backward at an impossible angle.
“YAHHHH!” His wail was inhuman. His jaw stretched so wide I could hear the joints pop. The sound was guttural, barely human.
I looked over at Ricketts, who quickly walked towards the mirror, hands in the air, exclaiming: “This is normal. Very normal, he is simply reacting to the serum.”
The Mad Doctor’s veins darkened beneath his skin, spreading from the injection site like black roots crawling up his neck and across his face. His eyes rolled back, showing only yellowed whites. Then his body went rigid, every muscle locked in place.
That’s when the black goo began.
It poured from his mouth in a thick, viscous stream, splattering across the four of us restraining him. The substance was warm. Unnaturally warm. It had the consistency of motor oil mixed with something organic, something that had once been alive. I tried to shield my eyes as the cascade erupted from him like a broken fire hose, but the smell was overwhelming: sulfur and rot and something sickeningly sweet.
“Simple exhaust is all,” Ricketts tried to soothe both us in the room with him as well as the observers. “The patient’s vitals remain on track.”
The flow continued for what felt like minutes but was probably only seconds, the black substance pooling on the floor around the chair, creeping toward our boots. Then, as suddenly as it started, it stopped. The Mad Doctor’s body went completely limp, giving a few final full-body shudders before collapsing forward in his restraints, face-down in the pool of black goo.
At that moment, I was certain he was dead. His chest wasn’t moving. The room fell silent except for the steady drip of black ooze from the edge of the cart.
Then he gasped, a long, shuddering intake of breath like a newborn’s first cry. His head lifted slowly, and he blinked several times, disoriented. His gaze traveled to the black substance covering his orange jumpsuit, then to the pool surrounding him.
“Oh my,” he said softly, his voice completely different. It was gentler, almost melodic. “Oh my goodness, what—” He looked up at us with clear, focused eyes. “Friends, am I responsible for this mess?”
The concern in his voice sounded genuine. He tried to reach out, but was stopped by his restraints. Our administrator stepped forward and unclasped his appendages. The now freed patient immediately touched Aguero’s arm, then mine, his hand lingering in a sincere, apologetic gesture. “I’m so sorry. I’ve gotten this awful stuff all over you.”
I stared at him in disbelief. This was the same man who, just minutes ago, had described in detail how he wanted to wear my intestines. The same man who had never spoken to me without promises to slit open my throat or reconfigure my stomach to be on the outside of my body rather than the inside.
Ricketts’s gaze shifted from the observers to the patient. “Dr. O’Bryon,” he said, finally giving the man a proper name. “How are you feeling?”
Dr. O’Bryon looked around the fluorescently lit room, “Wonderful, doctor, absolutely stupendous!” His eyes looked over all of us, his smile enchanting, his eyes inviting. His gaze finally fell upon the cart.
He rose to his feet and waltzed over to the remains of the rabbit. “Why, why did I do this?” O’Bryon looked disturbed.
Ricketts looked down at the ground, “You were sick, O’Bryon, very sick.”
“Did the rabbit hurt someone? Please God, tell me it wasn’t innocent!” O’Bryon’s face twisted into one of remorse and self-disgust.
Ricketts shook his head softly. “You are cured now.” He nodded again towards the administrator, who took O’Bryon by the shoulder and led him out. O’Bryon’s silent tears streamed down his face.
“The site administrator’s team will continue to monitor Dr. O’Bryon, and if results prove as promising as what my team believes they will be, we will eradicate evil starting in our criminal population.”
Ricketts stopped and remained motionless. A small button near the ceiling I hadn’t noticed before suddenly glowed green. Ricketts’s smile was almost audible as he gave a deep, ceremonial bow and exited the containment room.
My entire focus was just to get as far away from my black-stained clothes as soon as possible. In that moment, though, my true priority should have been to do everything in my power to kill the newly reformed O’Bryon before it was too late.