Noah came back to himself in pieces.
Cold against his back. A hard edge pressing into his spine. The smell of metal that never left this place.
His eyes opened to familiar alloy.
It was scarred, pitted, and forged from the same industrial junk he spent his days dumping into the furnace. Actually, he had never seen anything apart from this metal, whether it was in the factory or in his cramped bunker room.
He stared at the rivets for a moment, wondering why his mind was fixating on the ceiling.
Then the memories rushed back. The shriek of the cable. The grotesque sound of bones knitting. And the numbers. The plummeting numbers.
"Shit."
Noah lurched upright, hands flying over his body. His shoulders were in place. No blood was leaking from his body.
He summoned the screen.
[LP: 9]
His face paled.
Nine. He was alive but barely, moments away from becoming a memory. It hadn't been long since he awakened and lost most of his life. Then, how was he going to live his remaining life with just nine?
He wouldn't.
He stared at the number, crestfallen. His mind raced toward a future that felt very short—if it existed at all. Unless...
He needed to consume the energy source, the crystal. But they were expensive. The only crystal he could reach was inside the heart of the furnace.
Noah swallowed. He'd better die after poking himself with a needle nine times than peel his skin off and then die.
He was contemplating his option of survival, and he forgot to check the bunker.
"Six died. Eleven injured."
Noah stiffened at the voice. He didn't turn his head, but his eyes darted to the side.
A man drowned in luxury leaned against the lockers. In this dented, ashen room, the man was an oddity. A loaf of white bread among slabs of synthetic protein.
"Hey. Matthew," Noah said, sitting up. He fought to mask the panic behind a curtain of exhaustion.
He was ignored. Without looking up from his wristband projection, Matthew continued. His voice was light. Amused.
"Every one of the injured has at least one broken limb," he chuckled, sparing a brief glance at Noah. "Might as well be dead. Healers don't touch garbage."
He stepped closer, his boots clicking sharply against the alloy floor. The flickering blue light of the hologram cast a ghostly glow across his chiseled face, making his smirk look grotesque in the dim light of the locker room.
"The dead ones? Same mess as always. Shoulders gone, ribs cracked all over, spine busted in many places."
Noah shifted as the man turned his attention to him. Deactivating his band, Matthew sat right in front of him. Suddenly, the air shifted inside the room as he became serious.
"So, Noah... my friend," Matthew said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous purr, ready to charge at him. "How are you still alive? Without a single scratch on your body, much less a bone."
Noah felt his heart hammer against his ribs. He forced himself to hold the man's gaze, leaning back slightly. Matthew was the kind of man who stood just high enough to look down on others and just low enough to be terrified of falling.
"You're one hell of a smart-ass, huh?" Noah rasped, his voice sounding thinner than he liked. "If you've got it all figured out, then why don't you just say it?"
Matthew's face contorted. A raw, naked hatred bubbled up, making his handsome features look ugly. He leaned in until Noah could smell the expensive, synthetic scent of his neck.
"You're awakened, aren't you?"
Noah's stomach dropped. He forced himself to let out a sharp, jagged laugh, looking at the supervisor as if he'd just claimed the sky was green.
"It's not funny, Matthew. What? Don't tell me you're serious?" Noah looked at the man's stony expression and let out a huff of disbelief. "Oh, for balls' sake, he is. Matthew, look at me. What the hell would I be doing here, rotting in this locker room, if I were awakened?"
Matthew didn't answer right away. His eyes remained fixed on Noah, his jealousy palpable.
"You know what happened to Mark? He used his ability in the open. The Enforcers took him away." Noah's breath stalled halfway in, and Matthew continued with a smirk. "You do know there is no prison here, right?"
That was news to him. And certainly not a good one. But first, he needed to feed Mathew's ego. It was the only thing bigger than his suspicion.
"I was slacking off, okay?" Noah interjected quickly, waving a hand as if he were annoyed. "I saw the cable fraying, and I dived. Geez, don't scare me like that."
Matthew stared at him for a long, suffocating minute.
Finally, he let out a long, theatrical sigh. The tension bled out of his frame, replaced by the bloated confidence of a man who had just confirmed he was still at the top of the pile.
"Yeah, that's what I thought," Matthew muttered, the condescension returning to his voice like a bad habit. "I mean, it's funny for you to even think about awakening. Only chosen ones do. Not... whatever you are."
Could Noah punch this bastard? He was going to die anyway.
But something stopped him. His fist loosened as his mind grew sharp. He needed to live. At all costs.
"Anyway, what'd you do to your face?"
Noah blinked, genuinely caught off guard. "What do you mean?"
"It looks clean," Matthew said, his eyes scanning the smooth skin that should have been covered in factory soot and scars. "You doing skincare now?"
He had just looked at his reflection in the morning. And definitely did not remember doing that preposterous thing in the meantime. There was one thing that happened to him, though.
Noah's blood ran cold. He slowly brought a hand to his face. It was smooth.
"Really? Must have been Eva."
The name slipped from his tongue. The only one who really cared about his face was his little sister, of course, but—
"Right, Eva." Matthew's entire demeanor shifted. The look that replaced it made Noah's skin crawl. "How much longer do I have to wait, my friend?"
Seeing his disgusting smirk, a surge of razor-edged contempt flared in Noah's chest. He wanted to reach out and strangle the man, to feel the luxury leave his throat, but he kept his hands flat against the metal bench.
Not now. He needed this fool.
"She's a kid," his voice trembled, not entirely masking rage. "What, you're doubting me now?" He forced the next word out of his mouth. "We both know she'll never get a husband like you."
Matthew chuckled, preening at the forced compliment. He looked at Noah with the smug pity of a man who believed he was being offered a prize he deserved.
"Yeah, yeah, of course," Matthew mocked, waving a hand as if the idea of joining Noah's lowly bloodline was a joke he was happy to indulge before leaving.
It was a twisted dance. Both were aware of the other's intentions, yet they played along. But Noah was determined to win. There was no way he was letting this man lay a hand on his sister.
As he watched the man's back, Noah swore that he would survive, even if it was the only thing he accomplished in this pathetic life.