[Location: Project Zero Medical Bay / High Orbit Drop Ship] [Time: Subjective Year Zero. Life #1.]
Waking up was the easy part. The hard part was the weight.
I opened my eyes to the blinding white lights of the medical bay. I tried to push myself up, but my left side dragged me back down into the mattress like a lead anchor.
I looked down. Where my flesh-and-blood shoulder used to be, pristine silver plating was bolted directly into my collarbone and ribs. The Ouroboros. It hummed with a low, vibrating frequency that I could feel in my teeth.
"Don't move," a soft voice said.
Vesper stepped into my field of vision. She had dark circles under her eyes, looking like she hadn't slept since I went under. She held a datapad, her fingers flying across the screen.
"How do you feel?" she asked, her voice strictly professional, though her hands trembled slightly.
"Like someone parked a tank on my chest," I croaked. I tried to flex my left fingers. The silver, segmented digits clicked perfectly into a fist. It was instantaneous. There was no lag. But it was cold. So incredibly cold.
"The neural-link is stable," Vesper noted, reading the screen. "The temporal drive is fully charged. You are cleared for deployment, Subject Zero."
"Subject Zero," I repeated, letting out a dry laugh. "What happened to Caelum?"
Vesper finally looked up from her pad. She looked at me with that same profound, crushing sadness I had seen before the surgery.
"Caelum was a cadet," she whispered. "Subject Zero is our last hope."
[Location: Federation Drop Ship Vanguard - Atmosphere of Sector 7] [Time: Three Weeks Later.]
The red jump-light bathed the interior of the drop pod in the color of blood.
I was strapped into the crash seat, hyperventilating. I was wearing standard infantry armor, clutching a pulse-rifle with sweaty hands. The silver Ouroboros arm was concealed beneath my heavy tactical sleeve.
This wasn't a simulation. The metal hull of the ship was shaking violently as atmospheric flak exploded outside.
"Listen up, fresh meat!" a harsh voice crackled over the comms.
I looked across the cramped pod. Sergeant Silas. She was older than me, battle-hardened, her face smeared with camouflage paint. She didn't know me. I wasn't her equal yet. To her, I was just another rookie replacement.
"We are dropping right into the meat-grinder!" Silas yelled over the roaring engines. "The Algorithm has breached the Sector 7 defense grid. Your job is to hold the line while the civilians evacuate. You check your corners, you check your ammo, and you do not freeze!"
"Yes, Sergeant!" the squad yelled in unison. My voice cracked. I sounded like a terrified child.
"Pod deployment in ten seconds!" the pilot announced.
The hydraulic clamps locked over my chest. I closed my eyes. My heart was pounding so hard I thought my ribs would crack.
Click.
Deep inside my silver shoulder, a mechanism engaged. The Ouroboros flared with a sudden, searing blue heat.
"Temporal Anchor set," a synthetic voice whispered directly into my auditory nerve.
I didn't know it then. I didn't know that the smell of ozone, the red light of the pod, and the sound of Silas yelling would become my eternal prison. This exact second. This exact heartbeat. This was the moment the universe saved my file.
"Drop in three!" Silas roared. "Two! One!"
The floor dropped out from beneath us.
We plummeted into hell.