SUBJECT ZERO
POV: Third Person
In a sterile, white-and-gray room filled with machinery, a woman dressed in a sleek black jumpsuit rose from a chair. She removed a white VR helmet from her head, setting it aside with calculated precision. Beside her, a sickly-looking man in a white coat—his gaunt features and hollow eyes resembling those of a doctor—stood in silence.
"So, what happened?"
A deep, lifeless voice echoed through the empty space, reverberating against the cold walls.
The woman met his gaze briefly before walking toward a nearby table.
"He beat me," she said flatly, her voice devoid of emotion as she placed the helmet down.
The man hummed, intrigued. "So, he managed to defeat a Rank E version of you? Interesting." A twisted smirk curled his lips. "Too bad he turned out to be a failure. What if I cut him open and study how his body connects with the foreign cells? I could perfect the next one."
His voice brimmed with morbid curiosity, but the woman ignored him, already making her way toward the exit.
"I have no say in that," she stated. "Ask the Head when he calls."
With that, she left.
"Tsk. No fun." The man clicked his tongue in disappointment before turning to a machine and manipulating its controls—his fingers moving with an unsettling familiarity over the cryptic interface.
Ding!
The moment the woman exited, a soft ping rang from her wristband. Glancing at it, she abandoned her original path and headed toward a room further down the corridor. The sickly man followed closely behind.
Inside, four others were already waiting—two men and two women. They stood in a loose formation, their expressions impassive. As the woman joined them, another soft chime resonated through the air.
A figure materialized in the center of the room. Cloaked entirely in shadows, his form was an abyss of darkness, no part of him visible beneath the shifting blackness.
"Head," the group intoned in unison, bowing their heads in a measured show of respect.
The shadowed figure did not respond. His gaze swept over them, an unseen but tangible force pressing down on the room.
"How are the subjects?"
"The subjects are stable," one of the men, a middle-aged doctor in a white coat, reported. "All failed specimens have been disassembled for further refinement."
"Good." The Head's attention shifted. "Sylvia, what is the status of the mechanical subject?"
"He is in a half-perfect condition," Sylvia answered.
"Explain."
She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, the sickly-looking man cut in, his lips curling into an unsettling grin.
"I'll take it from here."
Sylvia's eyes twitched in annoyance, but she said nothing.
"After his escape attempts and the full mind wipe, he… lost something," the man continued, a note of amusement in his voice. "It's as if his very essence was erased."
The Head's voice was sharp, laced with irritation. "Elaborate."
"The subject tried to escape three times. The last attempt nearly succeeded—this was after we performed a partial mind wipe."
"I'm aware. Tell me something I don't already know."
The sickly man chuckled. "Well, after the full erasure, he didn't just lose his memories—he lost his consciousness entirely. A complete blank slate. No awareness, no instinct, nothing. He only responds to direct commands."
A pause. The air grew heavier.
"And along with that…" The man's smile widened. "He lost his ability to evolve."
Murmurs rippled through the room.
"I don't fully understand how his body connects with the foreign cells, but I do know this—his evolution has completely halted. And today is the first time he's shown any signs of self-awareness since the wipe."
Silence.
The man in black mused, "The so-called perfect subject failed."
The sickly man took a step forward. "I suggest we disassemble him and use what's left for the next iteration."
The Head was quiet for a moment before finally speaking.
"Change his number to Subject Zero. Bring him out of seclusion. Give him a name, add him to Team C, and monitor his progress."
A slow exhale of anticipation filled the room.
"After two months," the Head finished, "you may have him."
"Yes, Head," the group replied in unison.
---
POV: First Person
What… happened?
I thought I hit something. Metal? No… it was her.
I'd never touched her before. Was that how her skin felt? Cold, unyielding? Or had my final hit been stronger than I realized?
A mechanical voice chimed in my head.
[Daily Fitness:
Strength: Lift a ton ten times (10/10)
Speed: Reach a speed of 50 meters per second (56 m/sec)
Battle Training: Enter the virtual room for more information (Completed)]
A door slid open to my left. Following the command, I stepped inside.
The washroom was as sterile as the rest of my surroundings—white walls, a shower in the corner, a sink, and a toilet against opposite walls.
On the sink, I noticed a sealed toothbrush and toothpaste. Since I was the only one here, I assumed they were meant for me. Unsealing them, I began brushing my teeth, the motion automatic.
Afterward, I stripped down, leaving only my wristband. No matter how hard I pulled at it, it wouldn't budge.
I turned to the mirror above the sink, catching sight of my reflection for the first time.
Blue eyes. Black hair with a faint blue sheen. Light brown skin.
My body was well-built—defined abs, strong frame. I looked… healthy. Intact.
I stepped into the shower and turned the knob. A switch let me toggle between soap and water. I flipped it left, allowing liquid soap to drizzle over me, then right, letting warm water cascade down my body.
It was mechanical. Functional. Just like everything else.
Once finished, a compartment opened beside me, revealing an assortment of clothes—actual clothes, not just patient garb. T-shirts in various colors, jeans, sneakers.
I grabbed a blue-and-black top, black jeans, and white sneakers before dressing.
Ding!
[Information Changed:
Name: Steve
Number: 0]
[New information obtained:
Would you like to change your name to Steve permanently or temporarily?]
I blinked.
Huh?