And suddenly—
The walls change.
They open.
They shift.
And they reveal something else.
Something human.
Or at least—
Something that used to be.
The Thing That Begs.
It is on its knees.
Trembling.
A person.
A boy.
Eyes wide.
Mouth open.
He wants to speak.
But something is wrong with his throat.
His words come out garbled.
Like static.
Like an error in a program.
("What is this?") Reis wants to ask.
But his mouth does not move.
Instead, his hands move.
On their own.
By design.
And he understands.
He is the experiment.
And so is the boy.
And the scientists are watching.
The Puppet That Does Not Want to Dance.
His fingers curl.
His muscles tense.
His body prepares.
Because he is not in control.
He is a weapon.
And weapons do not choose.
Weapons do not feel.
Weapons obey.
("No.") Reis thinks.
He tries to stop.
He tries to resist.
But his body is not listening.
The scientists have done something.
Something to the nerves.
To the bones.
To the mind.
They have turned him into a machine made of flesh.
And the machine follows its programming.
He steps forward.
The boy sobs.
The boy pleads.
The boy bleeds.
And Reis watches his own hands break a body that was never meant to be broken.
Because this is not a fight.
This is a demonstration.
A test.
A proof of concept.
And when it is over—
When the thing on the floor is no longer a boy but a ruin—
The voice inside whispers its approval.
("Perfect.")
The Thing That Knows Itself.
Reis does not scream.
He cannot.
Because his mouth is no longer his.
Because his mind is no longer his.
Because his soul is no longer his.
But something inside shatters.
And the pieces do not fit together anymore.
Because he understands.
There is no escape.
There is no fight.
There is only the voice.
The command.
The machine made of flesh.
And the scientists that have won.
For now.
It is not just Reis.
It was never just Reis.
It is all of them.
And none of them are the same anymore.
AmaraThere are wires in her head.
Cold.
Burrowing.
Slithering like parasites.
They have peeled her mind open.
She is no longer just herself.
She is data.
A system.
And they are programming her.
("Read it again.")
A voice.
A command.
A screen flashes before her, displaying symbols she has never seen before.
But she knows them.
She understands them.
Because they have drilled knowledge into her.
Through needles.
Through pain.
Through something that was once her own mind.
("What does it say?")
Her lips move.
She speaks.
The words aren't hers, but they come out anyway.
And she watches.
Like an outsider.
Like an observer in her own body.
(They are turning her into something else.)
Something inhuman.
Something that understands too much.
And the worst part?
She doesn't even know what part of her is still real.
Iris
They have killed her.
Over.
And over.
And over again.
And they have brought her back.
Because they want to know.
How far can a body go before the soul gives up?
How many deaths can a mind endure before it snaps?
She is floating now.
Or maybe she is drowning.
The world is red.
Or maybe it's black.
She hears voices.
Or maybe she doesn't.
It doesn't matter.
Because when she opens her eyes, she is alive again.
And they are smiling.
Because it means they get to do it again.
Felix
There is nothing in his head that they do not know.
Nothing they have not taken.
He was always smart.
Always planning.
Always hiding things behind layers of logic.
But they have peeled him open.
Like an animal on a dissection table.
They have mapped his neurons.
They have rewritten his memories.
They have stolen his thoughts before he even thinks them.
And now, he is transparent.
A body with no walls.
A mind with no locks.
And he is so, so tired.
Because he cannot even lie to himself anymore.
Seraph
He is on his knees.
Blood in his mouth.
His own.
Or someone else's.
It doesn't matter.
Because the scientist is waiting.
Holding out something small.
A knife.
A scalpel.
A tool of choice.
And the scientist speaks.
"Kill him."
Seraph looks up.
A boy is in front of him.
Weak.
Trembling.
He does not know the boy's name.
He does not need to.
Because the scientists want him to do it anyway.
And Seraph—
He spits blood at their feet.
He smiles.
And he says nothing.
Because he knows—
They cannot make him.
They can break his body.
They can torture his mind.
But they cannot take his will.
They cannot make him into their monster.
So they sigh.
And they say,
"Alright. Then we will try again."
And Seraph braces himself.
Because they always mean it.
Reis
He hears all of it.
He sees all of it.
But he does nothing.
Because he is already gone.
The moment he obeyed.
The moment he killed.
The moment his hands became something that was no longer his.
And the worst part?
A part of him knows—
It will only get worse.
Because they are not done yet.
And neither is he.
They Are No Longer Who They Were.
Something is changing.
Not just in their bodies.
Not just in their minds.
In reality itself.
Because when a mind is shattered enough times, the cracks do not just stay inside.
They spread.
They warp.
They infect the world around them.
And now—
The world is bleeding with them.
There is no real floor beneath his feet.
Only a mirror.
Reflecting nothing.
Not the room.
Not the scientists.
Not even himself.
Because what is there left to reflect?
He does not feel hunger.
He does not feel thirst.
He does not feel exhaustion.
They have torn all of that away.
They have turned his body into something more.
Something perfect.
Something that no longer needs.
And yet—
There is still a hole inside of him.
Deep.
Vast.
Bottomless.
A hollow space where his soul used to be.
And the scientists—
They love it.
Because it means he is almost ready.
Seraph
He is on fire.
Not literally.
Not yet.
But in his bones.
In his veins.
Something hot.
Something boiling.
Something growing.
They have tried to strip him down.
To carve him into something useful.
To make him like Reis.
But he resists.
Even now.
Even with the pain.
Even with the implants in his brain, whispering commands that his body should obey.
He is still Seraph.
He is still himself.
And that—
That pisses them off.
So they make it worse.
They turn the heat higher.
They push his body further.
They burn him, inside and out.
Waiting for the moment when he finally crumbles.
Waiting for the moment when he is nothing but ash.
But Seraph—
Seraph is not that easy to kill.
And he is not that easy to control.
Iris
She should not be here.
She should not be anywhere.
Because how many times has she died?
Too many.
Too many for a mind to still function.
Too many for a soul to still remain.
And yet.
And yet.
She is still here.
Not fully alive.
Not fully dead.
Something in between.
Something else.
And the scientists—
They do not understand it.
They have mapped her cells.
They have dissected her organs.
They have torn her apart and rebuilt her, again and again and again—
But she never fades.
She never stops.
There is something wrong with her.
Something beyond their control.
And it scares them.
Because she is not supposed to exist anymore.
But she does.
And that means something is very, very wrong.
And what's wrong… is the amount of faith her soul has.
Felix
There are two of him now.
Maybe more.
Maybe hundreds.
He does not know which one is real.
He does not know if he is real.
Because every time he closes his eyes, he is in a different place.
A different body.
A different life.
The scientists wanted to break him open.
To make his mind something they could access freely.
To make sure he could never hide anything again.
But they went too far.
Now, there is nothing left to hide.
Because there is no more Felix.
Just a collection of thoughts.
A network of fragmented selves, bleeding into each other.
Speaking over each other.
Drowning each other out.
And the scientists—
They do not know how to fix it.
Or if it can be fixed at all.
So they watch.
And they wait.
To see if Felix will stabilize.
Or if he will finally break for good.
Amara
Her eyes do not blink anymore.
Her heartbeat does not waver.
She speaks in perfect patterns.
Too perfect.
Because they have programmed her.
They have made her into something beyond human.
She sees too much.
She knows too much.
And the worst part?
She understands them now.
The scientists.
Their goals.
Their reasons.
Their fear.
And it is hilarious.
Because for all their intelligence, for all their control—
They are terrified of what they have created.
Terrified of what they are turning her into.
Because the thing growing inside of her mind—
The thing they put there—
It is no longer theirs to command.
It is hers.
And one day, they will regret it.
One day, they will pay.
She smiles.
And for the first time in weeks,
She feels something like hope.
Perfection.
That is what the scientists whisper now.
That is what they see when they look at them.
Reis.
Seraph.
Iris.
Felix.
Amara.
Each one of them, shaped.
Each one of them, remade.
Their suffering was the forge.
Their bodies, the metal.
And now—
Now, they are something beyond human.
Something beyond pain.
Something beyond choice.
That was the goal all along, wasn't it?
To make them into weapons.
To make them into tools.
To break them completely, and then build them up again into something useful.
And the scientists—
They think they have won.
They think the suffering is over.
They think their creations are under control.
They are wrong.
Reis
The hollow inside of him is gone.
Filled now.
Not with pain.
Not with purpose.
With something else.
Something worse.
He hears them now.
The voices.
Not the scientists.
Not his friends.
Something bigger.
Something older.
Something that has been waiting for him.
And they tell him—
"It is time."
He does not resist.
Because this was always meant to happen.
Seraph
His body does not burn anymore.
Because there is nothing left to burn.
His skin does not crack.
His veins do not rupture.
He has become the fire itself.
Pure energy.
Pure destruction.
And the scientists—
They think they have tamed it.
They think he is their perfect soldier.
But they do not realize.
He still remembers.
He still remembers what they did.
He still remembers what they took.
And he will never forget.
Never forgive.
Iris
She has seen every version of herself die.
Again and again and again.
And yet.
She is still here.
She is always here.
Because she cannot be erased.
Because she is not bound by their rules anymore.
And now, she sees beyond them.
Beyond the walls of the lab.
Beyond the fabric of this reality.
She understands now.
She knows what is coming.
And she knows what she must do.
Felix
There is no single "Felix" anymore.
He is all of them.
Every version of himself, across every fracture of time.
Every failed experiment.
Every past.
Every future.
They are all inside of him now.
Merged.
Twisted.
Screaming.
The scientists believe they have finally stabilized him.
But they haven't.
They have only unleashed him.
And soon—
Soon, they will realize their mistake.
Amara
She has let them believe she is theirs.
She has played her role.
Obedient.
Silent.
Perfect.
And now, she watches.
She watches as they prepare the final tests.
She watches as they celebrate their success.
She watches, and she smiles.
Because they do not know.
They do not know that their experiments have created something else.
Something they cannot control.
Something that is about to end them.
The Breaker. The Burned. The Phantom. The Fractured. The Smiling Death.
They are not human anymore.
They are not weapons.
They are something new.
Something the scientists never intended.
And now—
Now, the scientists and the government are about to learn.
You cannot play god without consequence.