The heavy leather restraints were gone. I believe it's been a full week had passed since I woke up in the facility. Some days were hazy. The new freedom was completely fake. Two soldiers stood by the steel door with their rifles raised. They never blinked. They watched me like I might snap their necks at any second.
The door hissed open.
Zack walked in first. His boots hit the floor in a perfect measured rhythm. Every movement he made was calculated and controlled. Maxim Collins walked in right behind him. Max was a complete contrast to the rigid military environment. His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his worn leather jacket. A silver flask peeked out of his pocket.
Zack was all precision and ice. Max was all slouch and chaotic energy.
"Vitals are stable," the medic reported quickly. "He is lucid for now."
The words hung in the cold air. For now.
Zack looked at me with total professional detachment. Then he turned to Max. A flicker of deep annoyance crossed his face. "You do not belong in this ward."
Max grinned. "Funny. The doors keep letting me in."
"Not for long," Zack said.
"Relax soldier boy. I am not here to break your precious protocols. I just want to see how our golden boy is holding up." Max stepped much closer to the bed. He completely ignored the armed guards. "Morning Ashen. How is the head?"
My mouth was dry. "Which one?" I asked.
Max barked a loud laugh. "Good answer."
The soldiers gripped their weapons tighter as Max crouched down near my bed. He rested his arms on his knees. He looked directly into my eyes. He did not look at me like a broken toy. He did not look at me like a monster.
"You had them completely terrified," Max said quietly. "The way you tore those steel cuffs right out of the concrete wall? Beautiful. I wish I had a camera."
The memory flashed hot in my mind. There was no voice. There was no presence. There was only a sudden and absolute blinding rage. I remembered the heavy metal groaning and snapping under my bare hands. I remembered the shrill scream of the facility alarms. I shuddered violently.
Max saw the tremor. His smile stayed in place. "Do not worry kid. You pulled it back. That is what counts. Most people let the beast win."
"And you do not?" I asked. My voice was hoarse.
His grin thinned out. The humor vanished from his eyes. "I made peace with my beast a long time ago."
"That is enough," Zack ordered.
Max did not look back. "I am not giving him state secrets Zack."
"You are giving him poison," Zack snapped.
Max turned his head and raised one eyebrow. "The funny thing about poison is that it can be medicine in the exact right dose."
The tension between them was suffocating. Zack rested his hand near his sidearm. Max just smirked at the threat.
"Five minutes," Zack said. "Then you are out." Zack walked to the corner of the room and crossed his arms.
Max turned back to me. He lowered his voice. "Here is a survival tip Ashen. Do not mistake silence for loyalty. Half the people in this building would put a bullet in your head if the order came down. Some would not even wait for the order."
Fear coiled tight in my stomach. "And you?"
His grin softened into something genuine. "I do not use bullets unless I absolutely have to. It is a waste of good lead." He stood up and brushed dust off his jacket. "Here is another tip. Trust is exactly like glass. It is pretty and useful but it is incredibly fragile. Once it cracks it will never be the same again. Think very hard before you start handing it out."
The steel door hissed open again. Max had run out of time. He strolled out of the room without looking back. He whistled a slow old tune as he walked down the hall.
The soldiers relaxed slightly. I could not relax at all. His words echoed loudly in my head. Trust is like glass.
I sat upright in the bed. My muscles were sore but they were healing entirely too fast. It was another dark reminder of the changes inside my body. My skin hummed constantly with the foreign energy.
Zack stood by the door and watched me.
The door hissed open a third time. Two officers in dark pristine uniforms walked in. Their brass insignia shined brightly. The older woman had deep lines carved into her face. Her eyes were completely dead and cold. The younger man had a sharp ambitious face.
I felt like an object on a table again.
"Subject is stable," the medic recited. "Recovery is progressing. No organ failure. But we lost an entire bottle of the EquiV compound."
The older woman stared at me. Her cold expression made my rapid healing feel like a massive crime.
Zack stepped forward. "With respect ma'am I recommend we double the containment protocols. He is volatile. If he loses control again we will have casualties."
"That is exactly why he is valuable," the younger officer interrupted. His voice was like sharp wire. "The energy output recorded during his violent break could level an entire battalion. We would be absolute idiots not to harness it."
They debated my life right in front of me. They spoke over me. I was a weapon to them. I was a tool to be aimed and fired. I clenched my fists under the white sheets.
Max strolled back into the room like he owned the building. His timing was a deliberate insult. "Am I late? It is very hard to tell time in a place with no windows."
The younger officer flushed red with anger. "Collins. This is not your briefing."
"Briefing?" Max asked. "I thought this was show and tell. You have your miracle project awake. Let him enjoy the spotlight."
The older woman narrowed her eyes. "Why is he here?"
"I have been asking the same question," Zack stated.
Max ignored them completely. He looked right at me. "You look much better. Less like a corpse and more like a kid. I will take all the credit."
The younger officer slammed a heavy folder onto the metal desk. "This is a military asset Collins. This is not a toy for your amusement."
Max lost his smile. His eyes glinted with sudden danger. "Funny. He looks exactly like a person to me." Max spread his arms wide. "Then again what do I know? I am just the guy you keep around when things get extremely messy. And trust me things are going to get messy."
Absolute silence filled the room. The older officer turned to Zack.
"Containment is your total responsibility," she ordered. "Keep him alive. Keep him usable. And if that fails you know exactly what to do."
The two officers walked out. Their heavy boots echoed down the long hallway.
Max stretched his arms. "Friendly bunch. You must feel warm and fuzzy knowing they will gut you the very second you stop being useful."
I stayed completely silent.
Max stepped closer. "Remember what I told you. Everything in this place is already cracked." He patted my shoulder once and walked out the door.
Zack lingered for a long moment. He gave me one last unreadable stare and then he left. The heavy door sealed shut behind him.
I was entirely alone with the hum of the machines.
I closed my eyes. The exhaustion finally dragged me under.
I woke up. The harsh sterile light of the medical bay was gone. Golden sunlight poured across the back of my neck. I smelled chalk dust and old paper.
I was sitting at a wooden desk in a bright classroom. George leaned over from the next row. He wore his usual crooked grin.
"You are zoning out again Ashen," George whispered. "You are lucky she has not called on you yet."
Across the aisle Mia tilted her head. Her hair caught the bright sunlight perfectly. "Do not listen to him," she said softly. "At least you look awake today."
It was perfect. It was comfortable. It was entirely fake.
I knew it was a lie. Max had shattered the illusion completely. The school did not exist. My friends did not exist. But the warmth felt so incredibly real. I did not move. I just sat there and soaked in the golden light. I wanted to pretend I was just a normal student for one last minute.
Then my hand started to shake.
The plastic pen between my fingers trembled violently against the notebook paper. My pulse hammered in my ears. I squeezed the pen tight to stop the shaking.
The pen snapped in half. Black ink spilled all over my palm. It looked exactly like dark blood.
George kept smiling. Mia kept looking at the chalkboard. They did not notice the ink. They did not hear the loud crack. Their mouths moved but no sound came out.
The plaster walls began to split open. The wooden desks twisted violently into cold steel frames. The bright sunlight fractured into a blinding white glare. George and Mia dissolved into dead static and vanished entirely.
I stood up. My chair crashed to the floor.
The room was completely empty except for one other person.
He stood at the very back of the shattered classroom. He wore the same exact clothes as me. He had the same ink stained hands. He had my face. But his eyes were completely different. They burned with a cold silver light. He stood in a loose perfect combat stance. He radiated absolute lethal confidence.
He did not say a single word. He did not smile. He did not mock me.
He just moved.
He crossed the room in a blur of motion. He threw a straight brutal punch directly at my chest. I recognized the strike instantly. It was pure instinct. I raised my arms and blocked the hit. The massive force of the blow rattled my teeth and sent me sliding backward across the floor.
He did not pause. He unleashed a terrifying flurry of precise strikes. Every movement he made was absolutely flawless. He was me stripped of all hesitation. He was me without fear or guilt. He was a perfect machine.
I fought back wildly. I blocked his knee strike and threw a heavy right hook at his jaw. He caught my fist in his open palm. His grip was like solid iron. He twisted my wrist hard and threw me completely across the room.
I hit the floor hard. Wood and steel splintered around me.
He walked toward me slowly. His silver eyes analyzed my broken posture. He calculated the fastest way to end my life.
I tasted warm blood in my mouth. I pushed myself up from the debris. My legs shook badly but I refused to stay down.
He lunged again.
I ducked under his heavy swing. I spun around and drove my heel directly into the side of his knee. His leg buckled slightly. I used the opening instantly. I grabbed his shoulders and drove my knee straight up into his face.
"This is my life," I roared.
The entire world shattered into sharp glass.
I gasped for air. The blinding lights of the Alpha Division medical bay seared my eyes. My chest heaved violently. Every single muscle in my body burned with total exhaustion.
I was not strapped to the bed. I was standing in the center of the room.
The medical bay was completely destroyed. Heavy monitors were smashed to pieces. The steel table was dented and overturned. Masked handlers lay scattered across the floor in unnatural broken angles. None of them were moving.
My hands were covered in thick warm blood.
I stared at my red palms. A wave of horrible nausea hit my stomach. Did I do this?
The deafening silence was broken by a slow steady sound.
Somebody was clapping.
I spun around. Max stood in the ruined doorway. His leather jacket was completely clean. He looked at the bodies on the floor and then he looked directly at me. His sharp predator grin stretched wide across his face.
He clapped his hands one more time.
"Bravo Ashen," Max said. "It looks like you are finally waking up."