Division had a name for every kind of mutant. Pyros. Phasers. Pushers. The names were clean, clinical, almost polite — as if language could tame what they really were.
Division didn't call them prisoners. They called them subjects. The word was neat, bloodless, stripped of humanity.
Kira Hudson had stopped keeping track of how many days she'd been here. Days bled into nights under the sterile white lights of the underground facility. Time was measured only in injections, interrogations, and restraints.
Her name wasn't spoken anymore. To Division she was Subject 47, one entry in an endless catalog of superpowered individuals stripped of identity. The tag on her cell door bore only that number, stamped in black over gray steel.
When the guards strapped her into the testing chair that morning, she did not resist. The metal cuffs bit into her wrists, her ankles locked down. She sat straight, chest strapped tight against the cold steel. She did not speak to them,They never answered anyway.
The mirrored glass in front of her reflected a pale, hollow-eyed young woman. Her hair hung limp, her face gaunt. Yet in her gaze there was no pleading, no terror. Only a steady coldness that had unsettled more than one guard.
Behind the glass, the technicians and scientists gathered. Clipboards scratched, machines hummed, pens clicked. They didn't look at her like a person. To them, she was a living instrument waiting to be broken open.
The door hissed. Dr. Harrow entered, His very presence chilled the air. He carried a metal case in his gloved hands, setting it down with care. The latch snapped, and he revealed the syringe within a long needle filled with faintly glowing blue liquid.
"Compound Eighty-Six," Harrow said. His voice was calm, but beneath it was an anticipation he could not hide. "Every subject before you has perished. Hemorrhaging, seizures, neural collapse. But you are… different. A Pusher. If anyone can survive, it will be you."
Kira tilted her head slightly, her voice flat, devoid of curiosity. "And if I don't?"
"Then you will provide useful data."
That was the only answer Division ever gave. Failure or death, it made no difference.
No tremor of fear passed through her. Just silence.
Harrow slid the needle into her vein and Walked out the room. The serum hit her bloodstream like fire and ice colliding, racing through every vessel. Her back arched against the restraints, muscles seizing, breath caught in her throat. A thousand knives dug into her all at once.
And then came the voices.
Not sound — thoughts.
At first, they crashed against her skull like tidal waves: hundreds of jagged whispers clawing, overlapping, screaming to be heard.
Another failure, mark the time.
She's going to flatline in seconds.
I can't do this again, I can't watch—
If she survives, the applications… limitless…
Her eyes widened, but she did not break. She steadied her breathing, letting the chaos wash over her. The serum wasn't destroying her. It was sharpening her. Making her feel stronger and better in every way.
Her gaze lifted. The guard restraining her twitched as her mind rammed into his like a truck. She could feel his confusion, his fear, his obedience It was like she understood everything going on with him.
Kill them. All of them.
His arm moved before his mind understood. The rifle lifted. The scientists behind the glass barely had time to scream before the bullets tore through the observation deck. Glass shattered, blood sprayed across the control boards, bodies slumped over consoles.
Kira's restraints released with a clang. She rose slowly, flexing her hands as if testing new muscles. The serum still burned in her veins, but now it was fuel, pure and inexhaustible.
The guard followed her his Face completely blank and robotic.
The door burst open. Three soldiers stormed in, rifles raised.
Turn on each other she said to them.
Without hesitation, they obeyed. Guns shooting like crazy, rounds tore through armor, and within seconds all three lay dead in a Massive Pile of Blood.
Kira stepped through without slowing down even once. The guard under her command still following her reloaded his gun, but she no longer cared whether he lived. She didn't need him.
Kill yourself She Said and the Guard behind her shot himself in the head.
The hallway erupted with soldiers. Footsteps echoing down the hall, orders barked, weapons clicking into place. Dozens raised their rifles in unison.
Kira inhaled.
Kill yourselves.
The command hit them Instantly they had no way to refuse. The soldiers froze, then as one, they lifted their weapons to their own skulls. deafening gun shots rang out all at once. The hallway was gilled with the smell of blood and smoke.
Those who survived trembled, trying to resist the pull. She met their eyes, her voice Echoing through their minds.
Finish each other.
Gunfire thundered again. Screams echoed, then silence.
She walked through the corridor of corpses, her bare feet slick with blood. The facility was in ruins blood and death was everywhere. Every room that opened, every face that appeared, she extinguished without hesitation. Scientists hurled themselves against walls, guards ripped out their own throats, one officer fell to his knees and begged until she whispered end it and his body slumped to the floor.
Her mind was a Weapon , and she wielded it without mercy.
By the time she reached the outer gate, not a single living soul remained behind her.
The final unit waited outside with armored vehicles, floodlights blazing, heavy weapons locked on her. She could feel the tension in their thoughts a storm of fear, duty, desperation.
She pressed harder than ever before, stretching her will into every mind on the field.
Die for me.
The battlefield consumed itself in seconds. Machine guns turned inward, rockets fired into vehicles, grenades detonated at soldiers' feet. Men ripped each other apart with knives and fists until nothing remained but burning wreckage.
Kira walked through the flames untouched, her expression empty. Blood dotted her face, She didn't wipe it away.
The night air greeted her beyond the compound gates, cold and sharp. She lifted her gaze to the stars, silent. Free at last but freedom felt too small a word for what she had endured all that time.
Behind her, Division's facility smoldered, gutted to the foundations.
Miles away, in Division's central command hub, the feed from the destroyed compound collapsed into static. Sirens blared, reports poured in, agents scrambled in chaos.
"She's wiped them all out!"
"Total loss of Facility K-9!"
"Subject 47 breached containment—"
Dr. Harrow stood motionless, hands clasped behind his back, watching the static dance on the screen. he turned, his voice calm, slicing through the noise.
"This was one facility. One among hundreds."
The room stilled. His words were heavy, absolute.
"Do not waste grief on a destroyed lab. We will rebuild. We always do. What matters is that Subject 47 survived. She proved Compound Eighty-Six works."
He allowed himself the faintest smile.
"She is not a failure. She is the first true success. And soon, there will be more."