Chicago, Vought Temporary Registration Center.
This place used to be a bankrupt bank, but now it had been freshly painted.
The pure white walls were almost blinding under the sunlight.
A banner hung at the entrance, featuring Lynn Morris's approachable smiling face and that inspiring slogan: "We do not create shackles, we only provide ladders."
Kyle stood before this ladder, his heart filled with struggle and a faint glimmer of hope.
On television, that man had promised amnesty, promised aid, and promised a bright future he had only dared to imagine in his dreams.
He remembered the melted lockers in the locker room, the terrified eyes of the firefighters, and his mother's sobbing throughout the night.
In the end, the confusion about the future overwhelmed his fear of the unknown.
After taking a deep breath, he walked through the revolving glass door.
What greeted him was not the smiling receptionist from the promotional video, but a blinding, lifeless expanse of pure white.
A woman smiled and handed him a wristband.
The metal clicked shut on his wrist with a "clack."
The screen on the wristband lit up, displaying a string of numbers.
"Cadet 001."
The name Kyle was left outside the moment he stepped through that door.
He was led into a similarly pure white metal corridor.
It was so quiet here that he could hear his own racing heartbeat.
The so-called "physical examination" began.
He was strapped into a metal chair.
A mechanical arm extended, a needle pierced his skin, and his bright red blood was drawn, flowing into a test tube labeled "001."
No one explained to him what this was for.
The people around him, wearing white lab coats, had no curiosity or concern in their eyes; there was only a sense of scrutiny and appraisal, as if they were looking at a rare mineral.
Dr.Phineas Horton personally held a data pad, watching the genetic sequence map pulsing on the screen, muttering to himself.
"A perfect dominant expression... the anger threshold is exponentially correlated with energy output... the more agitated the emotions, the greater the destructive power... extremely high commercial development potential."
Kyle didn't understand, but he felt like livestock that had been skinned and placed on a chopping block, waiting to be appraised.
The limit capability test was even more brutal.
He was locked in a sealed space made of a special alloy.
The projection played images of him being bullied, and the mocking laughter was amplified, surging from all directions and drilling into his brain.
"Nerd!"
"Loser!"
"Does your mom know you're a loser?"
Even his mother's tear-stained face appeared on the wall, distorted, desperately questioning him: "Why did you become like this..."
His final psychological defense collapsed, and an unprecedented rage erupted from deep within his chest like a volcano!
"Enough!"
He roared, and out-of-control flames gushed from his body, turning the entire room into a furnace.
When he collapsed to the ground, exhausted, the door opened.
He did not see the punishment he had expected; instead, a man in a tailored suit with an elegant demeanor stood at the doorway, wearing an appreciative smile.
Hannibal Lecter.
"A very good energy response, child. Anger is like a top-tier truffle; it requires a keen sense of smell to discover its value."
Dr. Hannibal Lecter's psychological "counseling" began immediately.
Kyle was taken to a comfortable room and sat on a soft sofa.
On the screen, carefully edited footage began to play.
On one side were images of super-powered individuals causing massive destruction.
The voiceover narrated in a low tone: "Uncontrolled power only brings destruction and fear. Even if it defeats the enemy, it is no different from a monster."
On the other side, the Guardian used its body to block a collapsing building, delivering a frightened, crying child into its mother's arms.
Starlight used a soft glow to dispel the panic.
The voiceover became high-spirited and full of hope: "Power that obeys order can be transformed into glory; it can become a true Guardian deity."
Destruction and glory.
Monsters and heroes.
Two completely different fates were laid bare before Kyle.
"Which one do you want to become?" Dr. Hannibal Lecter's voice was gentle and persuasive.
Kyle's lips trembled, and he couldn't speak.
During a simulated city rescue test, Kyle once again had an outburst of anger due to an "accident" set by the program.
The flames spiraled out of control, burning down half of the virtual training ground.
He thought he was done for, that he would be labeled a "hazardous material" and imprisoned here forever.
The punishment did not come.
Dr. Hannibal Lecter instead took him away from the training area and into a luxurious penthouse suite he had only ever seen in movies.
Outside the window was the dazzling night view of Chicago.
"Anger is a precious fuel, child." Dr. Hannibal Lecter poured him a glass of iced juice, his tone filled with approval.
"Those mediocrities only think about how to extinguish it, but we know how to utilize it."
"You need the right engine to harness this power."
"Vought is your engine."
From that day on, Kyle's "elite training" began.
He moved into this suite, with a dedicated nutritionist preparing top-tier food for him.
The closet was filled with designer clothing.
A dedicated "psychological mentor" spoke with him every day.
That person was gentle, patient, and a good listener.
He guided Kyle to voice all his pain and resentment, then cleverly converted these negative emotions into a desire for power.
He was no longer asked to suppress his anger.
On the contrary, he was taught how to "savor" his anger and how to control the flow of his rage like the most precise surgeon.
On the training ground, he no longer sprayed flames uncontrollably.
He could condense fire into a sharp, long whip to cut through distant steel cables.
He could create a high-heat flame shield, melting all the bullets fired at him.
His anger had transformed from a destructive wildfire into a turbo engine that could be engaged or disengaged at will.
The PR and Brand Management team also moved in.
They tailored a brand-new "persona" for him.
"A tragic youth who remained silent during school bullying, but awakened to protect others during the S.O.M.S crisis."
"He was once abandoned by the World, but now he chooses to embrace the World with fire."
This story was written to be tear-jerking, full of dramatic twists.
Kyle looked at that backstory, and in a daze, he thought it was his own true life.
His codename was set as "Vulcan."
The design blueprints for his battle suit were placed before him.
Interwoven with dark red and gold, it possessed a mythological sense of power and holiness.
Putting it on felt as if he could transform into a deity descended to the mortal World.
When everything was ready, the giant screen in the suite lit up.
Lynn Morris's handsome and calm face appeared on the screen.
He didn't talk about training, nor did he talk about business.
He just gazed at Kyle gently with those eyes that could see through everything.
"The World needs your power."
"In the past, it was buried in the dust, trampled by the ignorant. But now, it will shine with the radiance it deserves."
"And I will give you a stage worthy of this power."
Kyle looked at that man on the screen.
He looked at himself in the mirror, wearing a luxurious bathrobe, his eyes gradually becoming confident, even unfamiliar.
The cowardice and inferiority of the past were being replaced by an unprecedented sense of worth.
For the first time, he felt that he was "needed."
For the first time, he felt that his existence had meaning.
He was not aware.
Every heartbeat of his, every peak of his anger, every data point of his energy output, his brainwave response to the word "glory"...
Everything was recorded, analyzed, and archived by Motoko Kusanagi's central system.
They flowed into a massive database called the "Hero Assembly Line," becoming valuable parameters for correcting models and optimizing processes.
A perfect product was about to complete its final packaging.
Just waiting to be tagged with a price and placed on the shelf.
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