Dead Plate Oneshots Subject 739

lol I’m having a panic attack rn (unrelated to the oneshot)

The lab was eerily quiet, save for the rhythmic hum of the sterilization machines and the low buzz of fluorescent lights overhead. Rody walked down the narrow hallway of the pharmaceutical facility, his footsteps echoing slightly as he passed rows of frosted glass windows. Each one offered a view into rooms where human bodies—no, not even human, he reminded himself—were being used as test subjects. They weren’t even considered people anymore. They were labeled as “organ banks,” “lab rats,” reduced to nothing more than biological resources for the upper class.

It was a cruel world. The wealthy could afford luxuries like longevity, organ replacements, and miracle drugs, while those deemed “lower class” were discarded, their lives treated as currency to fund those advancements. Rody had spent years working in the field of pharmacology, and by now, he was used to the grim reality of it all—until he met Vincent.

Rody stopped at one of the doors, hesitating for a moment before scanning his badge. The door slid open with a faint hiss, and he stepped inside. The room was small and sterile, with white walls and a single cot pushed against the corner. A boy, no older than thirteen, lay on the bed, propped up on pillows. His skin was pale, almost sickly white, with a gauntness that spoke of years of malnutrition and overmedication. His black hair, though clean, was thin, and dark circles lingered beneath his eyes. But when those eyes met Rody’s, they were bright, filled with hope and trust.

“Hey, Rody!” Vincent greeted with a weak smile. His voice was hoarse, strained, as if even speaking took more effort than it should.

Rody forced a smile in return. “Hey, Vincent. How are you feeling today?”

Vincent shrugged, his thin shoulders barely lifting the blanket draped over him. “A little tired, but the doctors said the new medicine should help. They said I’m getting better, right?”

Rody’s throat tightened. He hated this part. He hated lying to the boy, watching him grow weaker day by day while the pharmaceutical trials slowly ate away at his body. Vincent was one of their longest-running test subjects—an anomaly. Most children in his condition didn’t survive this long. Yet, against all odds, Vincent continued to cling to life, as though sheer willpower alone kept him breathing.

“Yeah,” Rody lied softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re doing great. Just keep resting, and the medicine will do its job.”

Vincent’s smile grew a little wider, though it was tinged with exhaustion. “I knew it! I knew I’d get better eventually.”

Rody swallowed hard, averting his gaze. He busied himself with the clipboard in his hand, pretending to check Vincent’s vitals, though he already knew what they would say. Blood pressure dangerously low. Heart rate unstable. Liver function deteriorating. All from the drugs they were pumping into his system. The experimental treatments were doing far more harm than good, but Vincent didn’t know that. He believed—no, he *wanted* to believe—that the doctors were helping him.

“Rody?” Vincent’s voice broke through his thoughts.

“Yeah?” Rody glanced up, forcing himself to meet those trusting black eyes again.

“Do you think I’ll be able to go outside one day?” Vincent asked. His voice was soft, almost wistful. “I’ve never been outside before, you know? Not really. The doctors said it’s not safe for me yet, but maybe one day when I’m all better…”

Rody’s heart twisted painfully in his chest. Vincent didn’t know, and Rody couldn’t bring himself to tell him. The boy had never been outside because he was never meant to survive long enough to see it. He was born into this life, raised in this facility as a test subject, just like so many others before him. The idea of a future—of freedom—was nothing more than a fantasy, one that Rody didn’t have the strength to shatter.

“Maybe,” Rody murmured, his voice barely audible.

Vincent smiled again, this time more genuine, as if the thought of going outside someday was enough to keep him going. “You’ll take me, won’t you? When I’m better? We can go see the ocean.”

“The ocean?” Rody repeated, surprised by the request.

“Yeah!” Vincent’s eyes lit up with excitement, though his frail body betrayed just how weak he truly was. “I saw a picture of it once in one of the magazines you brought me. It looked so big and blue, like it went on forever. I’ve always wanted to see it.”

Rody’s stomach churned with guilt. He knew Vincent would never make it that far. The boy’s body was failing him, slowly crumbling under the weight of the drugs they were using to test the next big breakthrough in medicine. Even now, Rody could see the subtle tremors in his limbs, the way his breaths came in shallow, labored gasps. And yet, Vincent still held onto hope.

“I’ll take you,” Rody promised, his voice thick with emotion. “One day, when you’re all better, we’ll go see the ocean together.”

Vincent beamed, his frail face lighting up with joy at the promise. For a moment, the cold, sterile room felt a little less oppressive, and Rody almost believed the lie himself.

But as he left Vincent’s room that day, the weight of his words crushed him. He had just promised a future to a boy who had none, and it made him sick. The truth was, every day they administered a new round of drugs to Vincent, they were inching closer to the end of his short life. Each experiment eroded his body’s ability to fight back. Rody had known from the start what Vincent’s fate would be, and yet, here he was, unable to stop himself from offering false hope.

That night, the guilt gnawed at him like a parasite. He lay awake in his dark apartment, staring at the ceiling, replaying the day’s conversation over and over in his mind. The ocean. The ocean that Vincent would never see. The boy had never even known what fresh air smelled like. He had lived his entire life within the sterile walls of the facility, his entire existence defined by the drugs that were killing him.

Rody clenched his fists, anger and frustration boiling inside him. How could he continue to stand by and watch this happen? Vincent was just a child—innocent, hopeful, and undeserving of the fate that awaited him. He had to do something. He couldn’t let Vincent die like this.

The next morning, Rody made his decision. As he walked into the lab, his heart pounded with a mixture of determination and fear. What he was about to propose was unheard of. The superiors would likely laugh in his face, or worse, reprimand him for daring to suggest such a thing. But Rody didn’t care. He had to try.

—

Rody stood in front of Dr. Armand’s desk, his hands clenched at his sides. The head of the pharmaceutical division barely glanced up from his work, tapping on the digital screen that displayed rows of clinical data. Rody’s heart raced, but he kept his tone steady, knowing that any sign of weakness would be used against him.

“I’ve been thinking,” Rody started, his voice carefully controlled. “About Vincent.”

“Subject 739,” Armand corrected coldly, though his tone lacked any real recognition. “What about him?”

Rody took a deep breath. He’d rehearsed this conversation in his head for days, but now that it was happening, the words felt fragile. “I want to request a release. For him.”

The room fell silent, save for the faint hum of machinery around them. Armand finally looked up, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am,” Rody said quickly, trying not to sound defensive. “Vincent has been through enough. He’s not like the other subjects… he’s still holding on. He deserves better than what’s happening to him.”

Armand’s expression hardened. “You’re aware of what you’re asking, aren’t you? He’s not a stray dog, Lamoree. He’s a test subject. You know the rules.”

Rody forced himself to stay calm. “I know what he is to the program, but that doesn’t mean this has to be the end for him.”

Armand leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. His gaze sharpened, and Rody could feel the weight of his superior’s authority pressing down on him. “Lamoree, we don’t let sentiment cloud our judgment here. You’ve been in this line of work long enough to understand that. Vincent serves a purpose, and when that purpose is fulfilled, his time will end. You’re suggesting we just… throw that all away?”

Rody swallowed, resisting the urge to argue the point too aggressively. “I’m suggesting that he’s given a chance. He’s young. Maybe there’s something else for him—outside of this facility.”

Armand raised an eyebrow. “You want to adopt him?”

“I… I think I could give him a life,” Rody said, quieter now, but resolute. “Or at least a better one than this.”

There was a long pause, during which Armand studied him carefully, weighing the situation. “He’s dying, Rody. Even if we granted your request, he wouldn’t last long outside of these walls. You know that.”

“I know,” Rody admitted, his voice heavy. “But he doesn’t have to die here. Not like this. Not hooked up to machines, thinking we’re saving him when we’re doing the opposite.”

Armand sighed, rubbing his temples. “Lamoree, you’re overstepping. You’re attached to the boy. It happens. But you need to let go.”

Rody’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t back down. “What harm would it do to let him live what little time he has left with some dignity?”

For a moment, Armand didn’t respond. He leaned back in his chair, clearly weighing the situation. “Even if I could consider this, you’re asking me to approve something that’s unprecedented. The board won’t like it.”

“Then don’t tell them,” Rody said, the words slipping out before he could stop himself. He winced internally, knowing how reckless that sounded. But the thought of Vincent’s hopeful eyes, his dreams of the ocean, pushed him forward. “He’s just one child, Armand. One life, out of hundreds.”

Armand stared at him, silent and calculating. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke. “I’ll think about it.”

Rody exhaled, nodding. It wasn’t the answer he wanted, but it was more than he expected.

“Now get back to work,” Armand said, his tone sharp once more. “And don’t let this conversation distract you from your duties.”

Rody left the office with his mind spinning. It wasn’t a no, but it wasn’t a yes either. He wasn’t sure what his next move would be, but one thing was certain—he couldn’t watch Vincent waste away like all the others.

As he returned to Vincent’s room later that day, Rody found the boy sitting up, looking out the small, reinforced window that offered nothing but a view of the facility’s dull, grey walls. The glint of excitement in Vincent’s eyes sparked something in Rody—something like hope.

“Hey, Rody!” Vincent called out, his smile weak but genuine. “Guess what? I had another dream about the ocean.”

Rody forced a smile, sitting down beside him. “Yeah? Tell me about it.”

Vincent’s voice filled the sterile room with a childlike wonder, as if the world outside was still a place of beauty, as if he believed he’d see it someday.

Rody didn’t tell him the truth. Not yet. But maybe… just maybe, he wouldn’t have to.

Days passed, and Rody waited, hoping for a miracle that never came. Every time he crossed paths with Dr. Armand, the older man would brush him off, offering nothing more than vague promises of “I’ll think about it.” But Rody knew better. The adoption request was dead in the water. They wouldn’t let him take Vincent away. The boy was too valuable, too deeply woven into the fabric of their cruel research.

Rody felt like he was suffocating in the sterile halls of the facility, the clean white walls and the soft hum of machines only reminding him of what Vincent was enduring. Each time he saw Vincent, pale and weak but still so full of hope, it broke something inside him.

He couldn’t let this be it.

One day, after yet another failed attempt to convince the board, Rody found himself in front of Armand’s office door again, desperation gnawing at him. He knocked, and the familiar, cold voice called him in. Armand barely looked up from his desk as Rody entered.

“Lamoree,” Armand said without any warmth. “I assume you’re here to make another plea on behalf of the boy?”

Rody swallowed hard, forcing down the bitter frustration that had been building inside him. “Yes. I know the adoption isn’t happening, but I’m begging you—just one day. Let me take him out. He’s never seen the outside world. Just a few hours. Please.”

Armand’s fingers paused over his tablet, and for a long moment, there was silence. Rody watched as his superior leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing with an unreadable expression.

“You know how absurd that sounds, don’t you?” Armand finally said. “This is a controlled environment. He’s fragile, Lamoree. Taking him out could kill him faster.”

Rody stepped forward, his heart hammering in his chest. “Maybe. But he’s dying anyway, Armand. And you know it. It’s a matter of weeks now. Just give him a day. Let him see the sun, breathe fresh air. He’s never had that. Don’t let him die in here, thinking this is all there is.”

Armand sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Rody could tell he was annoyed, but there was something else there—hesitation, maybe. A crack in the armor.

“One day won’t change anything,” Armand said, almost to himself.

“Maybe not for you. But it will for him.”

The silence hung heavy in the air. Rody could hear his own breathing, feel the tension in his muscles as he waited for an answer. When Armand finally spoke, it was with a tone of resignation.

“Fine. One day.”

Rody blinked, almost not believing what he’d heard. “What?”

“You can take him out for a few hours,” Armand said, voice clipped. “But under supervision and it can’t be more than 15km from the facility. If anything happens to him, it’s on you.”

Relief flooded through Rody so quickly he almost felt lightheaded. “Thank you,” he whispered, barely able to get the words out. “Thank you.”

Armand waved him off. “Just don’t make me regret this, Lamoree. I’m already going out on a limb for you.”

Rody nodded, his mind already racing with plans. He didn’t have much time, and there was so much he wanted to show Vincent—so much the boy deserved to see.

—

The day came quicker than Rody anticipated. He arrived at Vincent’s small room, feeling the strange weight of excitement and dread all at once. The boy sat on his bed, his usual weak but bright smile stretching across his pale face.

“Hey, Rody!” Vincent’s voice cracked a little, but he was beaming. “What’s up?”

Rody knelt down next to him, taking a deep breath. “I’ve got a surprise for you today, kiddo.”

Vincent’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “A surprise?”

“Yeah.” Rody’s voice was soft, almost reverent. “We’re going outside.”

Vincent blinked, confusion flickering in his eyes. “Outside? Like… out-outside? Into the real world?”

Rody nodded, watching as the realization settled in for Vincent. For a moment, the boy just stared, as if processing the enormity of what Rody was saying.

“I’ve never been outside,” Vincent whispered, his voice barely audible. “We’re going out? Really?”

“Really,” Rody confirmed, offering a small smile. “Just for today.”

The boy’s excitement was infectious, and even though Vincent was sickly and frail, he seemed to summon the energy of a child much healthier than him. Rody helped him dress, carefully layering clothes to protect his fragile body from the outside world, the world that had been denied to him for so long.

—

The moment they stepped outside, Rody felt a lump form in his throat. The sky was bright, the sun casting a golden glow over everything. It was nothing special, not really—just a regular day. But to Vincent, it was everything.

Vincent’s wide eyes stared up at the sky, his mouth slightly open in awe. “It’s… it’s huge,” he whispered.

Rody couldn’t help but smile, though his chest felt tight with emotion. “Yeah, it is.”

The boy took a deep breath, his thin chest rising and falling as he inhaled the fresh air. “It smells different,” Vincent said, turning to Rody with that innocent wonder that always made Rody’s heart ache. “Not like the lab.”

“That’s because it’s clean air,” Rody explained softly. “Not filtered like what we have inside.”

Vincent’s gaze wandered around the open space, eyes landing on every little detail. Trees, birds, the distant city skyline—everything was new to him. He was taking it all in, like he didn’t want to miss a single moment. And Rody couldn’t blame him.

They spent hours walking through the park, Vincent moving slowly but determined, his steps halting now and then as if he were savoring the ground beneath his feet. They sat by a pond, and Vincent watched the ducks with a quiet fascination. He asked Rody a million questions, and Rody answered each one with patience, even as the weight of what was to come pressed heavily on his mind.

As the day wore on, Vincent began to tire, his illness sapping his energy. But even as his body weakened, the joy in his eyes never dimmed. He had seen the world, however briefly, and to him, it was a dream come true.

“I never thought I’d see this,” Vincent murmured as they sat on a bench, his head resting against Rody’s shoulder. “It’s beautiful.”

Rody swallowed hard, nodding. “Yeah,” he whispered, his voice tight. “It is.”

They sat in silence for a while, the sun beginning to dip low in the sky. Rody didn’t want to take him back, but he knew he had to. Vincent’s body couldn’t handle much more.

“Rody?” Vincent’s voice was small, tired.

“Yeah, kiddo?”

“Do you think I’ll get to see the ocean one day?”

Rody closed his eyes, his heart breaking at the quiet hope in Vincent’s voice. He didn’t have the strength to tell him the truth—that this was probably the last time he’d ever be outside.

“Maybe,” Rody said softly. “Maybe one day.”

Vincent smiled, content with the answer, and Rody wished with everything in him that he could make that lie a reality.