The images flashed back rapidly, a montage from hell.
Scene after scene of "death": Lethal injection, organ harvesting, exposure to extreme environments, genetic collapse... Each time, Dr. 062 and his team concluded, based on rigorous data and physiological metrics, that C-136 had absolutely no chance of survival.
But every single time, just as the "Terminated" stamp was about to be pressed onto the record, C-136 would "come back" in some inconceivable way.
Sometimes a stopped heart would inexplicably restart; sometimes failing organs would miraculously recover function; sometimes consciousness would recoalesce after seemingly irreversible brain death.
No pattern, no warning, inexplicable by any known biology, medicine, or even supernatural theory.
It was like a brute, unreasonable "error" forcibly correcting the inevitable outcome of "death."
In the lab records, the "death" entries for C-136 were always forced to be followed by a huge question mark and the note: "Survived."
This "accident" happened over a hundred times. From initial shock to eventual numbness.
Until the 176th test—we cycled C-136 between absolute zero and super-high temperatures ten times. The recorders confirmed his atomic structure had thoroughly disintegrated.
Three hours later, he smiled at us from inside the nutrient tank.
In that moment, numbness turned into a deep, unspeakable terror.
We were not facing a life form; we were facing an "error."
The scene switched to the night of C-136's escape.
In Dr. 062's memory, that day started normally.
Suddenly, all surveillance feeds for C-136's (Vic's) cell and C-137's (Venom's) container turned to static simultaneously—the system log showed "Unknown Instantaneous Fault," duration: exactly one minute.
Within this one minute, a series of "coincidences" occurred: The alloy cell door lock for C-136, requiring triple dynamic passwords and physical keys, "coincidentally" failed due to "metal fatigue" and was opened by C-136's clumsy methods.
The reinforced glass container holding C-137, capable of withstanding heavy weapons fire, "coincidentally" developed "stress fractures" invisible to the naked eye and was easily shattered by C-136.
And the guard squad, scheduled to cross-patrol every five minutes, "coincidentally" left the area entirely for a hastily called, irrelevant briefing.
When surveillance returned a minute later, C-136 and C-137 had merged and begun their slaughter.
Previous compatibility tests clearly showed C-136 and C-137 had zero compatibility—fusion was theoretically impossible—yet they succeeded.
It was as if invisible hands had paved every road for them during that one-minute "blind spot."
The final memory fragment was Dr. 062 personally blasting a hole through Victor Black's heart with an energy weapon.
Watching the boy fall, life draining away rapidly, Dr. 062 felt a complex emotion of "finally ending this error."
However, when he later tracked Victor to his hiding spot and saw that crude "heart"—cobbled together by Venom from industrial waste and symbiotic tissue—beating clumsily but persistently in Victor's chest, Dr. 062's conviction collapsed completely.
On the light screen, Dr. 062's holographic face twisted, not with anger, but with a horror akin to epiphany.
His inner thoughts rang out like a voiceover, filled with the emptiness that follows shock:
"I understand... I finally understand. This isn't a superpower, not a mutation, not even any form of power we comprehend."
"If we must give it a name... I fear we can only call it a 'Miracle.' A power that brutally, illogically turns the 'impossible' into the 'possible'."
"My first thought was ecstasy—my path to evolution needs this power! Turning impossible evolution into reality—this is the ultimate key!"
"But I quickly overturned that damn thought... No, wrong. Can something achieved by a 'miracle' be considered 'evolution'? Evolution should be rigorous, replicable, based on rules and accumulation!"
"What is a 'miracle'? God's pity? Fate's charity? It is cheating devoid of reason! It negates effort, negates laws, negates... everything we strive for!"
Dr. 062's face showed an expression of extreme rejection and disgust.
"I must hide this! Evolution should be an arduous climb, an epic of survival of the fittest! Not... not this cheap 'divine grace' falling from the sky!"
"If the Council finds out, they will only pounce on this power like dogs chasing a bone. Then our lifelong pursuit—the path of evolution built on blood and fire—will become a joke! A joke waiting for God to roll the dice!"
"At that point, the organization's philosophy will completely fracture. Our pursuit of scientific evolution will turn into a laughable farce chasing divine signs! The entire organization will disintegrate because of it!"
The memory fragment ended abruptly there.
The room fell into dead silence. Dr. 077 slowly closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and when he opened them again, they held an icy clarity and... a deeper hunger.
"So that's it... 'Miracle'..."
He whispered the word, chewing on it. The corner of his mouth hooked into an indescribable arc—neither joy nor anger, but the excitement of discovering the ultimate prey.
"Dr. 062, you were right. Evolution doesn't need God's pity. But at the same time, you were wrong. We need to... understand and 'use' this power. If 'miracles' truly exist, then making them serve 'evolution'... isn't that the ultimate application?"
He turned to Number 32, his voice returning to its usual calm authority.
"Clean this up. Dr. 062 was right about one thing: the rest of the organization cannot know about this power, especially those old fossils in the Council."
Number 32 nodded, his eyes shining with a fanatical light bordering on martyrdom.
"By your command, Dr. 077."
His finger pressed the final button on the precise instrument flashing with ominous red light without hesitation.
Zzt—Poof!
Inside the nutrient tank, blinding white light accompanied by a high-frequency energy flow instantly engulfed Dr. 062's remaining brain.
Complex wires and tubes burst with a series of tiny sparks. The pale yellow nutrient fluid rapidly turned murky and charred.
The brain tissue, which had pulsated for unknown years, withered and carbonized at a visible rate, finally turning into a small clump of suspended, meaningless residue.
Dr. 062's consciousness, filled with fear, anger, and unwillingness, along with his deep secret, was thoroughly erased from the world in this moment.
No last words, no room for struggle, like a line of errant code being deleted.
Mission complete.
Number 32 slowly withdrew his hand. His face showed no discomfort after completing the bloody task, only the solemnity of a mission accomplished.
He turned his head to look at Dr. 077's back as he walked toward the door.
The order was absolute: this information could not be known by anyone else in the organization. Naturally, that included Number 32 himself.
For the evolution of all mankind.
This thought burned in his heart like the most steadfast faith. Without hesitation, he pulled out his sidearm. The cold metal muzzle pressed precisely against his right temple.
The movement was fluid, without a single tremor, as if this weren't suicide, but the final step of a sacred ritual.
"For the evolution of all mankind!"
He chanted in a low voice, not loud, but with unquestionable resolve.
Dr. 077, having reached the door, didn't pause his steps, nor did he look back.
He simply responded faintly, as if confirming the most ordinary fact:
"Correct. For the evolution of all mankind."
BANG!
A suppressed, unusually dull gunshot rang out in the room.
Number 32's body swayed, then crashed heavily to the floor.
There was a small charred hole in his temple, blood slowly seeping out. Yet the expression on his face was frozen in a strange state mixing fanaticism and peace, as if he truly saw the path of evolution unfolding before his eyes.
Dr. 077 expressionlessly pulled open the heavy isolation door. In the corridor outside, a young man in the same uniform happened to pass by. The designation on his chest was blurred—perhaps Number 73, perhaps Number 105—it made no difference to Dr. 077.
He casually stopped the man, his tone as flat as if asking for a glass of water:
"You. Go clean up the trash inside."
The young member paused, his gaze subconsciously shifting inside the door. Seeing Number 32 on the ground and the smoking nutrient tank, there was no fear, only the same fanaticism as Number 32:
"Yes! Dr. 077! Executing immediately!"
Dr. 077 said nothing more, striding away, leaving the death and cleanup behind him.
Sacrifice was necessary. Whether it was 062's brain or 32's loyalty, they were merely stepping stones on the path to ultimate evolution.
And Victor Black, the walking "Miracle" himself, was the key he now had to truly face and "use."
Cleaning up the trash was to keep the road clean. His journey was toward the stars and the sea, the other shore of evolution, the... domain of God where "miracles" are held in the palm of one's hand.
---
The Last Day at Nevermore Academy.
Summer sunlight filtered through the stained glass, casting dappled shadows on the ancient corridors of Nevermore.
The air was filled with the restlessness of parting and the anticipation of vacation.
"Vic! You have to come to my house this summer! My mom said she prepared a whole cabinet of chocolate for you! Also, we can go camping in the forest; I know a place where you can see swarms of fireflies at night!"
Enid chirped around Vic like a happy little bird, her azure eyes sparkling, hands busy stuffing folded clothes into a slightly messy suitcase.
Vic responded with absentminded "Uh-huhs," wearing his usual slightly goofy grin, but his gaze was locked firmly on the laptop screen in front of him.
Beside them, Wednesday Addams' packing was a silent ritual.
Every black garment was folded with sharp edges, placed precisely into her antique suitcase like a specimen waiting for burial. Her movements were elegant and efficient; the only sound was the crisp click of the suitcase latches closing.
Finally, only a copy of the Book of Shadows remained in her hands.
After finishing everything, she raised her deep, pool-like eyes to look at Vic, her voice calm and ripple-free: "What are you looking at?"
The images on the screen switched rapidly—vaguely recognizable as some sort of surveillance system interface, bearing obvious traces of illegal hacking.
"Oh, this," Vic didn't lift his head, fingers flying across the keyboard, blurring with speed. "I wanted to find some entertainment, try hacking into that newly built US military base nearby to see if there are any new toys. But..."
He hit the final enter key. The screen froze on a feed of an area that looked exceptionally heavily guarded, with a style distinct from other military facilities. The interface flashed with the words: "Section 13 - Top Secret Clearance."
"Unexpectedly, while trying to steal a sheep, I found a much more interesting place." Vic grinned, revealing that signature smile mixing madness and excitement. "Have you guys heard of 'Section 13'? Or... talismans?"
Wednesday and Enid both wore blank expressions. Enid tilted her head; Wednesday only raised an eyebrow imperceptibly.
Seeing his two girlfriends' reactions, the smile on Vic's face became even brighter, blindingly so. He snapped the laptop shut with a clap, stretching his back until his bones cracked crisp.
"Looks like this summer won't be boring," he announced, eyes flashing with the light of discovering a new toy. "The fun delivered itself to my doorstep."
(End of Volume One. Volume Two begins the Hotel Transylvania 3 storyline: Crazy Vacation, Trip to Atlantis, taking the two little girlfriends to play on a luxury cruise ship!)
??ヽ(°▽°)ノ?)