The night wind in the Central region lashed Trung's face in gusts, like the whips of time.
He had been walking for three days, from the poor coastal plains, following the old road North. His jacket was soaked with rain, his back heavy with dust, and his metal foot was scratched, emitting a faint "creaking" sound. Trung did not stop.
He had become accustomed to the smell of burnt iron, and even the feeling of the mechanical joint hitting his real bone and flesh.
But in his heart, there was still a part that had not turned to steel where the image of Mai, the laughter of Lan, and the innocent voice of Tùng resided.
"Daddy, don't be afraid..."
That voice still echoed, occasionally, as if coming from a place with no signal. That afternoon, as the sun retreated towards the mountains, Trung walked through an abandoned stretch of road that was once the old North-South expressway, now only a field of grass and dead power stations.
Far in the distance, a few scattered houses, with kitchen smoke rising thin as thread. He stopped, pulled out his empty water bottle, and shook it gently. Empty. A truck drove up, old and dusty, with a faded license plate. The driver, a man in his forties, leaned out:
"Hey, buddy! Need a ride?"
"Which way are you going?"
"Up North. Relief goods. The areas after the flood."
Trung hesitated, then nodded.
"Let me ride with you for a while."
He climbed into the back of the truck. Inside were sacks of dry rations, bottled water, and a few crates marked with the "VS" logo. He frowned Vạn Sinh. But he said nothing. Just sat down and closed his eyes. The cold wind blew through the crack in the door. The sky turned ash gray.
Trung dozed off for a moment. When he opened his eyes, the truck had stopped. Not because of a red light, but because there was an obstacle ahead a line of other vehicles blocking the way. The driver leaned out:
"Huh, what's going on?"
A voice answered, cold as steel:
"Relief truck? Check the cargo."
Three men in black shirts stepped out, faces half-covered, eyes wearing reflective glasses. One of them held a scanner, sweeping through the truck bed. Trung sat still, but his gaze was like a knife blade.
"Is there anyone in the truck?" one asked.
"Yeah, a passenger hitching a ride. Just an acquaintance," the driver replied.
The man in black nodded.
"Get out. Baggage check."
Trung slowly stepped down. The wind swept across the field, carrying a slight burnt smell of ozone a sign of energy weapons. He looked straight into the eyes of the man in black.
"Whose men are you?"
"We are energy traffic security. Routine inspection."
"Energy security doesn't carry plasma weapons."
The man stopped short. Then he smiled, revealing shining teeth:
"Actually... we just wanted to say hello to a famous person."
He raised his wrist. A small screen lit up, displaying Trung's image, bloodied, with the line:
"Sát Thát Warrior - Prime Sample (Mẫu Gốc)."
The moment the screen went dark, a blue light flashed.
A plasma bolt shot out, cutting through the air. Trung's reaction was almost instinctual he spun around, using the truck door as a shield. The bolt hit the door, scorching the steel.
"Damn it!" he roared.
The second man rushed forward, energy gun aimed straight. Trung rolled, his mechanical leg swung, kicking him hard in the abdomen the impact sent the man flying several meters.
But the third bolt came faster. A fierce white light flashed. A violent explosion erupted, the ground beneath his feet shaking. Trung was hurled backward, his head hitting the truck bed hard, obscured by smoke and dust.
He tried to crawl up, his ears ringing, his eyes blurred. His trembling arm touched something wet with blood, or machine oil, he wasn't sure. In the distance, the truck was burning. The driver disappeared in the flames.
Trung dragged his foot forward, but his right leg didn't obey the metal joint was broken, the electricity short circuited. Then he saw, amidst the fire, a female figure. She stood still, wearing a black cloak, her face half-hidden. The reflected light revealed very familiar brown eyes.
"Mai?" he whispered.
She didn't speak, just looked. The wind blew her cloak open, revealing a metal bracelet on her wrist engraved with "VS-01".the symbol of the first experiment.
"It can't be..." Trung retreated, his voice broken. "Mai..."
"You were chosen, Trung," her voice rang out, steady, as if coming from two places at once. "You are the inception. But not the only one."
Then she raised her hand. A glowing device dropped to the ground, counting down.
3
2
1
The light swallowed everything. The last sight Trung remembered was the wind violently whipping past his face, and then the blurry figure of his wife fading into the fire. He didn't know if he was flying up or falling down. He only knew that, in that moment, he heard his daughter's voice echoing in his head:
"Daddy, Mommy doesn't want to kill you. But someone is controlling Mommy."
Then everything plunged into darkness. When Trung opened his eyes, it was morning. Around him was rubble, smoke, and fragments of steel. In the distance, ambulance sirens echoed. He tried to get up, but his whole body was numb.
His left arm was scorched, his right leg... only a mangled part remained. A person in a white coat rushed over, knelt down, and shouted.
"He's alive! Hurry, his blood pressure is still there!"
Trung tried to open his eyes, but everything blurred. The doctor's voice was faint in his ear:
"Take him to Facility K-12! Quickly!"
Then the sound of a helicopter engine, and a white light swept over him one last time. In his delirium, Trung heard two voices blending together:
A female voice: "You are the inception."
A male voice: "No, you are the threat."
And in between, the child's voice:
"Daddy, don't be afraid. Someone is still waiting for you to wake up."