Jack was led down a narrow hallway, escorted by two guards in black armor. He had stopped trying to count the tiles on the floor—it didn't help anymore. His mind was too clouded, the voices too loud. But when the door ahead opened, the noise inside him paused, like even the monsters were curious.
The room was wide, cold, and bright. A long table stood in the center with a group of people seated behind it. Their faces were calm, some even smiling. But it was the kind of smile that made Jack's skin crawl—controlled, practiced, rehearsed.
"Take a seat, Jack," one of them said.
Jack sat slowly, eyes scanning the room. No guards inside. Just these people in suits and white coats. That made them more dangerous.
Then one of them spoke, voice light and cheery. "Jack, do you want to become a hero?"
Jack blinked. "What?"
"A hero," the man repeated. "You know... like the ones on TV."
"I've never seen any," Jack muttered.
The man chuckled. "Right. That's because the real ones don't get broadcast. Superheroes aren't born—they're made. Right here. Secretly."
A woman leaned forward. Her voice was quieter. "We take people like you—people with power. Sometimes we take them by force. Sometimes their families are dumb enough to sell them to us. Either way... we mold them into something useful."
"Killing machines," another said bluntly. "We make them sign contracts. If they speak a word about what we do here—boom. Dead. And if they tell anyone else? Those people die too."
Jack stayed silent. He thought of his cell. Of the cold food. Of the monsters in his head.
Then he asked, "What happens if I accept the contract?"
The room stilled for a moment. Then one of them smiled wider.
"If you sign, things will change. You'll be moved into a new program. You'll be trained with real teams. Not just fights for survival. Real field work. We'll test which group you belong in. Build your image. Eventually, you'll be placed in a registered Hero Unit."
"And then?"
"If you rise through the ranks and earn your legal status, you'll leave this place. You'll live in the real world. Serve society. Help people. Well... as long as you follow our orders."
"And if I don't?" Jack asked.
"We kill you. Simple."
Jack looked at the pen on the table. The contract was already waiting for him.
He thought of Michael and Emily. He thought of the pain. Of the days off that weren't really peace. Of the monsters whispering, They'll never let you go.
But then another voice broke through—all his own: Use their system. Then burn it down from the inside.
Jack picked up the pen. His hand didn't shake.
"I'll do it," he said. "You've got yourself a deal."
He signed.
The room was quiet for a few seconds. Then the woman in the white coat tapped her fingers together and said, "Now, what about your team?"
Jack looked up slowly.
She continued, "There's a way we can allow Michael and Emily to move forward with you into the new program. But they'll have to agree to the same contract you just signed. No exceptions."
"If they agree," said the man in the suit, "we let them pass. If they don't... you'll continue without them. Either way, you'll be working with different teams moving forward."
Jack tensed. "What do you mean?"
"The Hero Program runs on rotation," the woman explained. "Each round lasts three days. In those three days, your team will work together and face off against other teams—real enemies, real scenarios. After that, we switch it up. New groups. New people. You'll always rotate, unless you make it to the permanent roster."
She leaned back in her chair.
"The program usually takes about six months to complete. But if you're good—really good—you can finish it in six weeks or less."
Another added, "So go back. Ask them. See what they say. If they refuse, we'll assign you to a new team immediately. Come back with their answers."
The guards stepped forward.
Jack was silent as they led him out.
Down the hall.
Back into the prison's throat.
As he walked, he passed rows of thick metal doors—each one sealed, each one humming with containment energy. Through some of the windows he saw faces. People like him. Eyes filled with rage. Grief. Madness. Some sat frozen, others screaming silently into the dark.
One banged on the window as Jack passed, a face twisted into something that didn't even look human anymore.
Jack kept walking. But something inside him shifted. Not fear.
Pity.
And anger.
He reached his cell. The door opened. The guards shoved him inside.
And the voices in his head whispered.
"Make them say yes."