[Secret-7 Facility — Two Days Later]
The massive steel door was thrown open with sudden, jarring violence. Twenty Spetsnaz operatives, heavily armed and clad in full black tactical gear, stormed the chamber.
Dr. Volkov had maximized the sedative dosage in Heracles' system to ensure complete compliance. The technicians on the ground disconnected him from the anchors and tubes, their hands shaking. "He's yours now," one technician muttered to a guard. "He won't be able to move for a while, but as soon as he's on the transport, reattach the sedative leads. We cannot afford a catastrophe."
The soldiers approached with extreme caution, moving him like a ticking time bomb into a reinforced metallic crate. They reconnected the tubes to his flesh. Heracles' consciousness was a flickering candle, nearly extinguished by the chemical fog coursing through his veins.
In this state of artificial slumber, the "God-King" was spirited away toward America.
[The Specimen Chamber — Secret-7]
Experimental Subject No. 3—David—remained suspended in the green fluid. His eyes were closed, his body deceptively still. But inside the tube, he was dying.
The previous experimental compounds were eating him alive from the inside. Black veins branched out like cracked porcelain; protrusions grew like tumors; his heart was slowing to a final halt.
But Dr. Volkov was not ready to concede.
He opened the access port and drew a small sample of David's blood—it was black, viscous, and poisoned. Then, he added a single drop of Heracles' golden-hued blood.
What followed was a medical miracle.
Under the microscope, the black, tainted blood began to transform. Dead cells regenerated instantly. Deformed structures repaired themselves. The black sludge turned into a vibrant, healthy crimson. In just ten minutes, every flaw had vanished.
"My God..." the doctor whispered, his eyes wide with fanatical awe. "It fixes everything. Everything."
With hands trembling with excitement, he injected 5ml of Heracles' pure blood directly into David's tube. He watched the monitors, his breath held tight.
The heart rate began to climb. Temperature stabilized. The black veins on David's skin dissolved into the pale flesh. The protrusions shrank and vanished. Two hours later...
David snapped his eyes open. His eyes were no longer human—they were a glowing, predatory red.
[Colonel Petrovich's Office — 5 Hours After Heracles' Departure]
The door slammed open. Dr. Volkov burst in, his hair disheveled and his coat stained, but his eyes were burning with a manic light.
"Colonel! We've done it!"
Petrovich looked up from a dossier. "What?"
"The compound! We've finally succeeded!"
The Colonel stood up slowly. "Explain."
The doctor slammed a file onto the desk, spreading out photos and data charts. "Subject No. 3—David—was on the brink of death. But after injecting the blood from the man we gave to the Americans... he recovered fully. One hundred percent. No defects. No cellular collapse. No rejection of the serum."
He leaned in, a mad smile stretching his face. "His blood... it fixes every flaw we've ever encountered. The immune rejection, the loss of control—it's all gone. Because of that man, we have created the perfect serum."
Petrovich stared at the file. The perfect serum. An army of super-soldiers. Flawless.
"How much of his blood do we have left?"
"The sample we took is enough to produce... fifty doses. Perhaps sixty if we dilute it carefully."
"Sixty gods," Petrovich whispered. He thought for a moment, then reached for the phone. "Gather the commanders. Emergency meeting in two hours. We are going to show them exactly what we've forged."
[Secret-7 — The Interrogation Wing]
Natasha woke up in a room of cold concrete and steel. She was bound in chains. Across from her sat Alex, the Colonel's right-hand man.
"Where am I?!" she screamed. "Where are my parents?!"
He didn't answer. He opened a file and began to read. "Natasha Kozlova. Twenty years old. You found the target in the woods. You brought him into your home."
"We did nothing wrong!" she sobbed. "We only saved his life!"
"I know," Alex said coldly. "But that made you witnesses. And witnesses like you... are valuable."
For hours, they grilled her. The same questions, over and over: What did he say? What did he do? Did you see anything strange? She told them everything. Every minute detail. Her parents were being subjected to the same grueling process in separate rooms.
Finally, Alex was satisfied. They had told him everything they knew. They were no longer useful as witnesses. But he had a different purpose in mind for them.
"They were the first to have direct contact with him," Alex told his subordinate later. "Perhaps their bodies developed a resistance, or reacted to his energy. They will make excellent 'volunteers' for Dr. Volkov's next phase. He does need new subjects, after all."
[The Testing Hall — 24 Hours After Heracles' Departure]
The hall was vast—a fifteen-meter ceiling and reinforced metal walls. In the center, a massive ten-centimeter-thick pane of bulletproof glass divided the room.
Behind the glass sat five high-ranking commanders: generals, ministers, and intelligence chiefs. They watched the other side with visible tension.
In the center of the testing area stood David. Naked. Lean. His long white hair hung down to his knees. His body was a map of scars from previous failures, but his eyes glowed with a vacant, terrifying red. Ten armed guards surrounded him in a wide circle.
Colonel Petrovich and Dr. Volkov stood at the observation microphone.
"Gentlemen," Petrovich began firmly. "What you witness today will change the course of history."
"What is this, Petrovich?" one general asked. "Why the rush?"
"Because our latest discovery has shifted the balance of world power." He signaled to Volkov, who brought up a presentation on the screen: Project Secret-7. Objective: Super-Soldier Production.
"Previous results: 99% failure rate. But now..." Volkov pressed a button, activating the speakers in the test chamber.
"David," the Colonel said softly.
David slowly raised his head.
"Can you hear me?"
"...Yes." His voice was a dry, raspy growl.
"Good. Gentlemen, David was a former Naval operative. He volunteered for these trials for the sake of Russia. Now, let us see the results. Sergeant! Test his durability."
A massive, veteran sergeant stepped forward. He stood before David, offering a brief, "Sorry," before delivering a devastating punch to David's face.
BAFF!
David's head snapped to the side, but he didn't fall. The sergeant struck again—a gut-wrenching blow to the stomach. David doubled over slightly. Then, the sergeant began a full-throttle assault. Punches rained down with clinical precision.
BAFF! BAFF! BAFF!
David began to bleed. His nose, his lips, his forehead—crimson fluid coated his lean frame. He fell to his knees.
Behind the glass, the officials grew restless. "This is it?" the Defense Minister sneered. "A weakling who bleeds? Have you wasted our time for this?"
Petrovich merely raised a hand. "Wait."
On the floor, David knelt in a pool of his own blood. The sergeant stood over him, panting. "Is it done?"
Then, Petrovich's voice boomed over the speakers: "David. Did you know that your sister... Elena... is currently being held in America? In a federal prison. Alone. Terrified."
David froze.
"If you fail here, she dies there. Alone."
The atmosphere in the hall shifted. The air became heavy, charged with a dark static. David slowly raised his head. His red eyes burned with an blinding intensity.
The blood on his face... it began to move. It wasn't dripping. It was crawling across his skin like a living serpent.
"What the...?" the sergeant whispered, taking a step back.
David stood up. The blood—his own blood—began to float in the air around him. Small crimson spheres orbited him like miniature moons. Then... he let out a raw, guttural scream of rage.
The sergeant froze, unable to move a muscle. It was as if something had seized him from the inside. He looked down. The veins in his hands, his neck, and his face began to bulge. They swelled. They distended.
"AAAAAAAAAGH!" the sergeant shrieked in agony.
Then... he exploded.
Literally. He detonated from the inside out. Every drop of blood in his body erupted at once, leaving nothing behind but a heap of tattered flesh and bone.
To be continued...