Test subject: 012 - Jan 2116.
The corridors all looked the same. White walls, bright lights, and that sharp hospital like smell that clings to everything. I am used to it by now, but it never stopped feeling cold.
I sprinted down the hall, toast hanging from my mouth, laughing as the guards shouted behind me.
"012! Stop right there!"
I turned just long enough to grin and wave before bolting down another corridor. The containment centre could be so painfully dull sometimes, I had to make my own fun somehow.
As I ran past a few scientists and other "experiments," I caught snippets of conversation.
"He's at it again," one muttered, sounding almost bored.
I rounded the corner and smacked straight into something solid. I'd seen it coming a split second before it happened, but not soon enough to stop myself. The impact sent me flying backwards onto my ass. My nose stung, my toast fell, and when I blinked up, I froze.
A security guard. His once-pristine uniform now sported a lovely smear of jam.
"Oh, uh… haha, sorry! Didn't see you there!" I jumped to my feet and tried to wipe it off with my sleeve, which only made it worse. He stared down at me, unimpressed.
Before I could charm my way out of it, another guard, the one who'd been chasing me, grabbed me by the scruff of my shirt.
"Gotcha. You're in so much trouble, 012. What made you think you could take extra rations?"
"I was hungry?" I offered weakly, flashing a grin. Judging by his glare, he didn't find it funny.
He dragged me down the corridor, muttering under his breath, until we reached an office door. A quick swipe of his card, and I was shoved inside.
The office looked like every other room in this miserable place, bare walls, sterile light. Behind a desk buried in papers sat Guardian Watson. He looked up, and the faintest sigh left him.
"What is it this time?" he said, voice rough like gravel.
The guard piped up. "Caught him stealing food again, sir."
Watson leaned back in his chair, studying me with those sharp, tired eyes. "Again, 012?"
I gave a guilty smile.
"You can't keep breaking the rules," he said flatly.
I knew that, but what else was I supposed to do between… tests?
When I didn't answer, he waved me off. "One more incident, and you'll be sent to the Segregation Unit. Understand?"
My smile dropped instantly. I nodded. I'd been there once, soon after I arrived here. Never again.
The guard pushed me back into the corridor and walked away.
I made my way to the courtyard, desperate for air. The January chill bit at my skin, but it felt better than the recycled air inside. I look hoping to see the stars, but the fog lights block any chances.
On one of the benches sat two familiar faces.
"012!" 023 called, her copper hair flaming bright against the gray sky. Her grin was like sunlight cutting through the gloom. "Heard you got in trouble again!"
018 snorted, his ash-brown hair dull in comparison to her fiery orange. "How are you still not locked in the Segregation Room?"
I threw my chest out and struck a heroic pose, one hand on my hip, the other dramatically pointing to the sky. "Because," I said with a grin that probably could've melted steel, "I am irresistibly charming. Dangerously so."
They both laughed. And I mean really laughed, none of that clipped, polite chuckle we usually get here. Their laughter was warm and real, and it made me feel like the world outside these gray walls still existed.
018 shook his head, his expression caught between exasperation and amusement. "You're about as charming as a soggy sock."
I gasped, clutching my chest as if his words had physically wounded me. "Oh, the betrayal!" I collapsed to my knees, flopping dramatically onto the cold ground, then grabbed him and dragged him down with me. "You monster!"
"Get off me!" he laughed, wriggling like a fish.
"I can't," I said, eyes wide with faux despair. "My heart is shattered. I'll never recover from this treachery."
"023, help me!" he called between laughs, the sound high and unrestrained.
She giggled, stepping in to pull at my arms, but of course, I wasn't letting go that easily. I tugged her into our little chaos, and just like that, the three of us were a jumbled, giggling pile on the cold ground. I could feel the warmth radiating from them, the comfort of being with people who actually get my weirdness.
For a moment, I let myself believe we were just ordinary kids, free to be absurd and loud, free to trip over each other in laughter without a care. 018's stubborn, teasing energy was the perfect counterbalance to my boundless enthusiasm, always keeping me on my toes, daring me to go one step further. And 023… she was quieter, more polite, but somehow she always laughed at the exact moments I needed her to, the kind of laugh that felt like sunlight breaking through clouds, gentle but impossible to ignore.
When I first met them, it was like a spark had been lit. We clicked instantly, maybe because they both are too young, too alive, too human for a place like this. I felt it in my chest, an almost protective urge to keep them safe, to shield them from even the smallest bit of this cold, suffocating world. I wanted to be their anchor, their cheerleader, their chaos partner, whatever they needed, I'd throw myself into it.
Even now, I could feel that thread connecting us, taut and unbreakable, woven from laughter, mischief, and shared glances. In a place designed to strip everything away, we had built our little bubble of life.
We're still laughing on the floor whe suddenly, I froze. Someone is coming.
"Enough."
A guard, stone-faced and immovable, appeared. Fun police alert.
I sat up, still grinning, and dusted myself off. "It was just a joke," I said, voice brimming with what I hoped was my most winning, apologetic charm.
"Playtime's over. Back to your rooms."
I exchanged a quick look with 018 and 023, and they gave me those small nods that said we'll survive this. We trudged back, boots scraping against the cold floor, and once we reached our individual rooms, we wave goodnight and step through. The door clicked shut behind me.
Inside, the silence hit like a wave. No warmth, no laughter. Just… quiet. I caught a glimpse of jam on my cheek in the small mirror and grimaced. "Great," I muttered, swiping at it. "They didn't even tell me!"
Even here, I couldn't stop smiling. 018's stubborn smirk. 023's fiery grin. Their laughter echoing in my head like music. My heart felt lighter, somehow, because even in this grey, locked-up world, we had each other and I would chase that kind of joy, stubbornly, no matter what.
I lingered in front of the mirror for a moment longer, tugging at a stray lock of my messy curls. It brushed the tip of my nose now, too long, too wild."Haircut day soon," I muttered, tilting my head and squinting at my reflection. The curls refused to sit right no matter how I pushed or flattened them. I puffed out a breath, sending one stubborn strand flying, and gave myself a crooked grin. "Still handsome, though. Obviously."
With that settled, I flopped onto the bed with all the grace of a falling sack of potatoes, the thin mattress squeaking under me. I stretched out, arms over my head, and stared up at the ceiling, white, blank, and endlessly dull.
The only sounds were the faint hum of the filter system and the slow rhythm of my own breathing. Even the air felt heavy here, like it was tired of being recycled.
"God, it's so boring here," I groaned, rolling onto my side and then back again. My voice sounded too loud in the silence, so I said it again, quieter this time, almost just for myself. "So boring."
I sigh and stare up at the ceiling again, tracing invisible constellations on the blank white surface. "Tomorrow will be better," I murmured, though the words felt flimsy and fragile as they left my mouth. "Maybe they'll let us outside again… and maybe I'll actually get a glimpse of the stars this time."
I could almost picture it, the cold night air, the faint hum of the electric fences, 018 pretending he wasn't cold even though his hands would be shoved deep in his pockets, and 023 tilting her head back to stare at the sky like she could memorise every inch of it.
I smiled at the thought, soft and a little sad. "If we do go out," I whispered, "I'll point out the first star I see and tell 018 it's brighter than his personality." I could practically hear him groan already, could see 023 trying not to laugh and failing miserably. The image warmed me from the inside out.
I turned onto my side, pulling the thin blanket closer around me. "Tomorrow'll be better," I said again, quieter this time. "It has to be."
And with that small hope tucked in my chest, I closed my eyes and let the hum of the room fade into something almost like peace.
_____________________
The next day crawled by in the same dull rhythm as always, wake up, eat, learn, repeat. Every hallway looked the same, every sound predictable. Even the clock seemed bored of ticking.
I hadn't been called in for tests much lately, and honestly, I wasn't complaining. No needles, no questions, no cold rooms with bright lights. Just the routine, as dull as it was. But today, right after lunch, they called for 018.
He rolled his eyes when his number echoed through the speakers. "Lucky me," he muttered, giving me that crooked half-smile before following the guard out. I grinned back, trying to make it look casual, like it was nothing, but my chest felt weirdly tight.
Afterward, 023 and I headed to the library. It was quiet, as always, rows of old books no one touched, the faint smell of dust and paper that had long forgotten sunlight. We sat across from each other at one of the metal tables, the silence stretching between us like an invisible thread.
At first, I joked to fill the quiet. Told her 018 was probably giving the scientists a headache with his attitude. She smiled politely, but her fingers kept fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve.
Time dragged.
Still no sign of him. I tried reading, but the words slipped right past me. I drummed my fingers, tapped my foot, even whistled once before 023 gave me a gentle look that said please don't.
Some tests could take a while. That wasn't strange. But this long? This was different.
I leaned back in the chair, staring up at the ceiling and pretending not to notice how my stomach twisted tighter with every passing minute. "He's fine," I said out loud, mostly to convince myself.
023 nodded, but her eyes didn't leave the door. The longer we sat there, the quieter she became, and the more I hated the silence that filled the room.
I wanted to believe it was just another day. That 018 would come swaggering back any second with a sarcastic comment ready to go. But as the hours slipped and dinner time arrived, I couldn't shake the sinking feeling that something wasn't right.
We head to the canteen, though my stomach felt like it was tied in a knot. Eating was the last thing I wanted to do, but I couldn't let 023 skip a meal. So I put on my best grin, even if it felt paper-thin, and nudged her along with a cheerful, "Come on, maybe they're serving something edible today."
The canteen was almost empty when we arrived. Just five of us scattered across the long rows of tables, the sound of cutlery scraping on trays echoing in the hollow room. The smell of overcooked vegetables clung to the air. I grabbed a plate out of habit, but the sight of the greyish meatballs didn't exactly make my appetite return.
We sat down together in our usual corner. 023 pushed her food around in silence, her fingers twitching against the edge of her tray. I tried to do better, picked up my fork and started rolling one of the meatballs back and forth across the plate, watching it wobble like a slow game of catch.
Thunk. Roll. Thunk.
My chin rested in my hand as I stared at it, not really seeing anything. The low hum of the lights buzzed overhead. "You'd think with all their fancy tech," I muttered, "they'd figure out how to cook something that doesn't taste like regret."
023 didn't laugh this time. She just gave a small, distracted smile, eyes darting toward the door every few seconds.
I leaned back in my chair, staring up at the ceiling. The white panels looked the same as always, cold, sterile, endlessly still. Everything here looked the same, but it felt emptier lately. Fewer kids in the halls, fewer voices at dinner. The tables that used to be crowded now stood half-empty, their silence louder than anything.
I hated it.
" There are fewer and fewer new kids lately," 023 said quietly, half to herself "And the ones that go in for testing... not all of them come back."
I swallowed hard. The words felt too heavy in the air.
023's fingers stilled. "When do you think 018 will be back?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
I looked at her, trying to find something steady to hold on to. She looked so small, shoulders drawn in, eyes shining with that soft, frightened uncertainty that reminded me she was still just a kid, no matter how hard she tried to act calm.
"Hey," I said, forcing a grin I didn't really feel. "018's fine. You know him. He probably argued with the staff again. He'll come stomping in any minute, complaining about how they messed up his hair or something."
That got a tiny giggle out of her. Just a small one, but enough. I held onto it like a lifeline.
Still, the silence that followed pressed in thickly. The clock on the far wall ticked on, each second stretching longer than the last.
I glanced at the door again, then at 023. "He should be back soon," I said softly. "He has to be."
But the words hung there between us, fragile and uncertain, as the cold light flickered above our table and another hour quietly slipped away.
Then the canteen doors slams open, and a guard storms in, dragging 018 behind him before shoving him roughly onto the floor.
"What the hell?!" I jump to my feet, rushing to him with 023 close behind.
"What have you done to him!?" I grit through my teeth, fury rising. The guard doesn't answer. Just stands there like he owns the place. Bastard.
018 lies limp in my arms, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, completely unresponsive. My chest tightens.
"Come on, 018. Focus!" I shake him lightly. Nothing.
023 gasps, her hands over her mouth, tears spilling down her cheeks. My mind races. Then it clicks.
"018… get up. You're making 023 cry."
Something in him stirs. A twitch in his hand, a shallow breath. His head tilts just enough for me to see one eye flicker open, unfocused and glassy.
"Where… where am I?" His voice is rough, cracked around the edges, like it hasn't been used in days.
"You're in the canteen," I say quickly, keeping my tone light even though my stomach feels like it's folding in on itself. "You're safe, okay? You're safe now."
He blinks a few times, slow and sluggish, like he's trying to drag himself back from somewhere far away. His nod is small, mechanical.
That's when I notice it, the white bandage wrapped over his right eye, the bruising blooming dark and ugly around his neck. My chest tightens. What the hell happened in there?
023's still trembling beside me, tears streaking down her cheeks. She's trying to be quiet about it, one hand covering her mouth, but her shoulders shake. I pull her closer without thinking, guiding her behind me a little like I can shield her from whatever they did to him.
018 just sits there, breathing shallowly. His shirt's crumpled, his sleeves streaked with something faintly red. Not blood, at least, not fresh, but still enough to make my throat go dry.
The other test subjects don't move. They sit scattered around the canteen, trays untouched, eyes flicking between us and the guards' door. They've seen this before. They've learned not to react. Not to care.
I can't blame them for that. Not really. The rules here have a way of carving the empathy right out of you. Still, it makes me angry.
I lower my voice. "Hey. It's me, remember? 012. You don't have to talk if it hurts, okay? Just, nod if you can hear me."
He hesitates, then gives a tiny, shaky nod. Relief floods through me, but it's thin and fleeting.
"Okay, that's good." I say softly.
023 sniffles quietly, clutching my top like a lifeline. I glance at the door, at the guards' empty post, and lower my voice even more. "They won't touch you again tonight. I promise."
But as I look at the bruises, the hollow stare in his remaining eye, and the faint tremor in his hands, a chill settles over me. Whatever they did to him… it wasn't just another test.
"Come on," I say softly, crouching beside him. "You think you can eat anything?"
018's gives a slow shake of his head, barely more than a twitch. "I think… I just want to sleep," he murmurs, voice rasping like sandpaper.
I nod right away. "Yeah. Yeah, sure. Let's get you to bed, huh? Tomorrow we'll come down for breakfast together. You, me, and 023, same spot, same table, same tasteless food." I try for a grin, light and teasing. "You can even steal my bread again if you want."
That earns me the smallest smile. It's faint, tired, crooked, but it's real. For a second, I catch a glimpse of the old 018 behind those dull eyes, and my chest loosens a little.
"Come on," I whisper, slipping my arm around him carefully. He's heavier than he looks, or maybe it's just that he's leaning more than standing, his weight sagging against me. 023 gets up too, wiping at her face, her hands trembling as she reaches to steady him from the other side.
Between the two of us, we guide him out of the canteen. The hallways are dim now, the overhead lights humming like tired insects. Every step echoes, too loud in the stillness. I can feel 018's exhaustion through the way his feet drag, how his breaths come shallow and uneven.
"You're doing great," I murmur, keeping my voice low, calm, steady, like I can convince him just by saying it. "Almost there, okay? Just a little further."
He nods weakly, his shoulder brushing mine. 023 keeps glancing at him, her brows drawn tight with worry, but she doesn't speak. She just holds on, quietly determined.
When we finally reach his room, I help him sit on the edge of the bed. He doesn't even bother with the blanket, just drops back onto the thin mattress and exhales, eyes already half-closed.
"See?" I whisper. "Easy part's over." I try to smile, but it comes out lopsided.
018 mumbles something I can't quite catch, but it sounds like "thanks."
023 lingers by the doorway, twisting her fingers together. I glance at her and give a small nod. "He'll be okay," I say softly, more hope than certainty. "He just needs rest."
She nods back, though her eyes say she's not sure.
Then he suddenly starts coughing. At first, it's quiet, a weak sound, almost like a breath caught the wrong way. But then it deepens, rough and wet, shaking through his whole body.
"Hey, hey, easy," I say quickly, moving closer. "Just breathe-"
But the words die in my throat as a dark, glistening line of red spills from the corner of his mouth. My stomach drops straight through the floor.
"No…" I whisper, frozen for half a second. Then I'm pulling him upright as his body convulses in another fit of coughing. "No, please, no..."
He gasps for air, his hands clawing weakly at my shirt. Blood bubbles from his lips, streaking down his chin and onto my arm. It's warm. Too warm. The sound of it, wet and desperate, makes the room tilt.
"018, look at me," I beg, voice cracking. "You're okay, just... just look at me, okay? Stay with me!"
He tries to speak, but it comes out as another strangled cough, another spray of red. His eyes are wide, glassy with pain and confusion. I can feel his heartbeat racing under my hands, frantic and unsteady.
018's fingers clutch at my sleeve, trembling, smearing blood across the pale fabric. Tears are streaming down his face now, cutting clean lines through the red. I hold him tighter, one hand braced against his back, the other gripping his shoulder like I can somehow anchor him here by sheer will.
"Please," I whisper again, my voice breaking completely. "You're fine, you're gonna be fine, okay? Just hold on"
But he just keeps coughing, weaker now, the sound hollowing out into shallow breaths. The smell of iron fills the air, sharp and sickening.
023 stands frozen in the doorway, her hands clamped over her mouth, eyes wide with terror.
"023!" I call, my voice cracking under the panic. "Go, go find someone! Now!"
For a heartbeat she doesn't move, her whole body trembling like she's rooted to the spot. Then she nods sharply, tears spilling down her cheeks, and bolts from the room. Her footsteps echo down the corridor, fading fast, leaving behind only the sound of 018's ragged breathing and my own shaking voice.
Everything feels too quiet between the coughs. Too still. I can hear the blood dripping onto the floor. I can hear my own heartbeat thundering in my ears.
"Come on, 018," I choke out. "Don't do this to me. Please."
His breathing falters. The strength in his hands fades, fingers slipping from my sleeve. I press my forehead against his, shaking, the tears coming before I can stop them.
And in that moment, holding him as his warmth starts to fade, all I can think is that I couldn't do anything to protect him.
I hold him tight as he gasps and coughs. His whole body trembles in my arms, every breath harsher than the last, until, suddenly, there's nothing.
The shaking stops. The sound stops.
He goes still, completely still, and the weight of him shifts in a way that makes my heart drop.
"018?" I whisper, my voice barely a breath. I wait for another gasp, another cough, anything… but there's only silence.
He's limp in my arms. I can't hear him breathe.
The door bursts open, slamming against the wall with a metallic crack. A guard and a scientist rush in.
Before I can react, the guard grabs me by the shoulders and yanks me back from 018's body.
"No, wait!" I shout, twisting in his grip, fighting to get free. My arms flail, my hands reach for 018, but the guard's strength pins me in place. My chest burns as panic claws up my throat. "Let me go!"
He doesn't. He just shoves me back a few steps and stands between us, hand on the gun at his belt.
The scientist drops to his knees beside 018, his expression unreadable behind his glasses. He lifts a small handheld scanner, passes it over 018's body. The device beeps once, twice, three times. Then silence.
The scientist sighs quietly, as if he's disappointed in a failed experiment, and pulls out a small notepad from his coat pocket. He checks his watch, scribbles something down, and then says flatly,"Test Subject: 018. Deceased at 19:33 p.m. Cause of death: Delayed Burnout."
My heart stops.
Burnout.
That's what they call it. When someone pushes their power too far, past the body's limits, past what the system can take. The organs shut down. The brain fries. The body gives out. Even with all the so, called enhancements from the genetic mutations, we still break.
Too much and you burn out.
Too much and you die.
018 is just a number on a notepad. A line in a report.
I grit my teeth so hard my jaw aches. "You don't even care," I hiss, my voice shaking. "He's dead, and you don't care."
The scientist doesn't look up. "Restrain Subject 012 before he escalates," he says, like I'm a checklist item, not a person.
Something in me snaps.
Before the guard can move, I lunge forward, all the grief and fury bursting out at once. My fist connects with his jaw in a solid, satisfying crack. He stumbles back, cursing, clutching his face. For one second, I see nothing but red.
The guard recovers fast, rushing at me. I dodge, duck, spin away, my heart pounding, adrenaline lighting me up from the inside out. He swings again, but I slip past him, again and again, faster each time. Every move feels fueled by the fire in my chest, by the injustice of it allm by 018 lying cold on the bed while they watch without flinching.
"012, stand down!" the scientist shouts.
"Shut up!" I roar, my voice raw. "You killed him!"
Then the sharp, metallic buzz cuts through the air.
Pain explodes through my neck, white-hot, electric. My body locks up instantly, muscles seizing as I collapse to my knees. The shock from the collar rips through every nerve. I claw at it, gasping, trying to tear it off, but my fingers don't obey. The pain is too much.
The world starts to dim at the edges.
Through the blur, I see the guard approaching again, his shadow swallowing the light. And just beyond him, 023, standing in the doorway, her face pale, eyes wide and wet.
She reaches out toward me, whispering something I can't hear over the ringing in my ears.
Then the world goes black.
______________________________
When I wake, the first thing I notice is the silence. Heavy, complete, unbroken. I open my eyes to a large, sterile room bathed in harsh, white light. One wall is entirely taken up by a wide mirror, no, not a mirror, an observation window. The kind that lets someone watch without being seen. I must be in the Segregation Unit.
Another metal bunk bed lines the opposite wall, identical, stacked like cages. I realise I've been dumped onto one of the lower bunks. My body aches, muscles stiff and sore from the fall after been shocked.
Judging by the layout, it's easier for them to monitor us when everyone's penned together, stacked like cargo, stripped of even a scrap of privacy.
The room smells sterile, faintly of disinfectant and metal. Every surface gleams too cleanly, reflecting the harsh overhead lights back into my eyes.
I shift slightly, scanning the room. It's quiet. Too quiet. The other test subjects… they're nowhere to be seen. Although no-one else might be stupid enough to get themselves sent here.
Now that I'm looking around, I think I could be alone. It's hard to tell. With no personal belongings, no signs of life, every room here looks the same, cold, empty, and stripped of anything human.
I swing my legs over the edge of the bunk, letting my feet touch the cold, hard floor. Every nerve in my body is on edge.
018 is gone…
My chest feels heavy, like a boulder pressing down, numb in a way that makes it hard to breathe. Another one… gone.
018. He was stubborn, sarcastic, impossible, brilliant boy who could make me laugh even when the world felt like it was falling apart.
I can still hear his voice in my head, that half-grumble, half-laugh when he rolled his eyes at me. I can still feel the warmth of him leaning against me when we walked together, the small, quiet trust in the way he let me guide him. And now… now he's just… gone.
He shouldn't have had to go like that. Burnout. They didn't even hesitate, didn't even flinch at taking him from us. He was more than a test subject, more than a number. He was my friend. My responsibility. And I couldn't anything for him.
I sink to my knees, pressing my forehead against the edge of the metal bunk. "018… I'm so sorry," I whisper, voice breaking. "I should've protected you. I should've..."
But the silence swallows the words, and there's no answer. No one comes.
After a while, I glance back at the observation window. I know someone is out there, behind the glass. Watching. Judging. Waiting. I imagine their eyes, cold and clinical, scanning me for signs of weakness, fear, or rebellion. And somehow that knowledge makes the silence feel even heavier, like it's pressing directly into my chest.
Alone or not, there's nowhere to hide. No corner to claim as my own. Every second stretches, echoing in the emptiness, and I realise something terrifying, they don't need to do anything else to break me. Just this. Isolation. Observation. The creeping, relentless weight of being nothing more than a subject in a cage.
I tug at a lock of my hair and mutter under my breath, mostly to stop my thoughts from spiraling. "Great… guess I'm missing haircut day."
The sound of my own voice feels too loud in the stillness. I try to let the joke hang there, like maybe it'll make the room feel less empty, but it doesn't. I can't pretend everything's fine. Not after 018. Not after watching him fall apart right in front of me.
But I can't show that. Not here. Not to them. They'd take one look and see a crack to pry open.
I push myself to my feet and start pacing. Back and forth. Step, turn, step. My fingers trail along the bedframe, the wall, the cold metal of the bunk ladder, small reminders that I'm still real, still solid, still here.
Because if I stop moving, if I let the silence settle in too deep.
So I keep moving. I keep breathing. I keep being me, even if all that's left to do is survive.
Suddenly, a click from a mic snaps me to attention.
"012, I see you are up and active. I hope you remember why you are here," a voice says, calm, clipped.
I stare at the mirror, saying nothing.
The voice continues. "You've broken the rules. You will not return to the main facility until permitted."
Great.
Not that the difference is huge. Segregation is basically the same, just more tests and zero outdoor time. The mic clicks again… conversation over.
I rake my hands down my face, letting out a long, shaky exhale.
My thoughts immediately drift to 023. Is she… okay?
My throat tightens, and for a second, I can feel something burn behind my eyes. No. No crying.
I slap my cheeks a few times, the sting grounding me. Focus. Stay sharp. Don't let them win. I just need to keep myself busy.
I head for the door. Surprisingly, it's open.
Peeking out into the corridor, I notice it's narrower here, more heavily guarded. It feels like they're trying contain a monster. My eyes dart down the hall and I start to explore.
The corridors are unchanged since my last visit. Boring as ever.
Then I start hearing it. Thudding. Repeated. Rhythmic. Heavy footsteps or maybe something hitting the floor, echoing off the sterile walls. My curiosity wins over caution, I have to see what it is.
I follow the sound, my footsteps soft against the cold floor, until I reach an open room. My eyes widen. A gym? This wasn't here the last time I passed this way.
The space is surprisingly large, brighter than the rest of the facility, with high ceilings and polished floors that reflect the harsh white lights above. A few racks of weights are neatly lined against one wall. Mats are spread out across part of the floor, and a mirrored wall stretches along one side, doubling the size of the room.
Two guards stand inside, rigid and alert, weapons in hand, poised to fire at the slightest provocation. Strange. Why would they need guns in a gym?
I step into the room cautiously, taking it all in. The smell is different from the rest of the facility, slightly metallic, but also faintly like sweat and rubber. It feels… alive, compared to the cold, sterile corridors I'm used to.
The guards barely glance at me as I enter, their eyes flicking over me with disinterest. Still, my pulse spikes. Something about this place feels off.
The thudding continues, steady and hypnotic, pulling me further into the room. For a moment, I almost forget where I am, almost forget the cold, empty cell and 018 lying where he was. Almost.
But not quite.
At the far wall, a figure moves.
The thudding continues, heavy and relentless, and I feel my feet carry me closer almost without thinking. It's a guy... maybe around my age.
The way he moves… it's mesmerising. Each punch, each swing, each precise step looks like he's fighting not just the bag, but something inside himself. I can't tear my eyes away.
Sweat clings to his dark hair, tracing down his face and neck. His muscles strain with every movement, and the punching bag shudders violently with each hit, groaning like it might collapse at any second. My curiosity makes me edge closer, needing a better angle, wanting to see how far he can push himself.
Then I notice it. Black swirls curling around his fists, tendrils snaking up his arms like shadows made solid. They pulse with every strike, twisting and writhing as if alive. My mouth goes dry. I've seen power before, but not like this…
Lost in the spectacle, I fail to notice the bench press jutting from the floor. My toe catches, my balance disappears, and I go down hard, face first.
"Ouch," I mutter, lying there for a moment, my nose pressed against the cold gym floor. The taste of the mat and dust fills my mouth.
I roll onto my back, rubbing at my nose with a wince. Slowly, I open my eyes.
A figure is standing over me now, looming tall, the lighting casting their face into shadow. Their presence is sudden, sharp.
"Well," I mutter under my breath, trying to make light of it. "That was… really embarrassing."
"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice calm but firm, and then he reaches his hand out.
I hesitate for a second, just a heartbeat, before I grab it. His grip is strong, steady, and before I can fully register what's happening, he hauls me up with an ease that makes me stumble slightly, my heart doing a weird little flip.
"Uh, oh, yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Totally fine. Don't worry about me," I blurt, waving my hands like that proves it.
I straighten my clothes, brush at my pants like it'll magically erase the embarrassment, and finally force myself to take a proper look at him.
And wow.
He's tall. Not absurdly so, but just enough to make me feel like I'm suddenly smaller than usual. Broad shoulders, strong arms, the kind of strength that looks natural, effortless. Every movement he makes, even standing still, carries this… quiet intensity.
Sweat clings to his dark hair, and he's breathing steady, calm, almost impossibly composed.
And then our eyes meet.
Black. Deep. Confused, almost wary, but there's something else there too… sharp, curious. They catch me off guard, and I feel heat creeping up my neck, prickling at my ears.
I stumble over my own thoughts for a second, because of course my brain decides now to turn into mush. He's not just strong. He's… something else. Mysterious, a little dangerous, and somehow magnetic all at once. I can't look away.
My brain scrambles to catch up, tossing out random observations like a malfunctioning computer.
I shift my weight awkwardly, trying to act casual, which is laughable, because I'm anything but that right now. My hands feel too big, my chest too tight.
I barely know this guy, and here I am standing like a total idiot, staring like some love-struck puppy.
But even as I tell myself that, part of me can't stop thinking… Wow.