Chapter 4: The Laboratory

The convoy came to a sudden halt, throwing the children against the bars. The human cargo, eyes wide open, stared at the cage door opening into a large stone-walled room.

The Mute felt fear creeping into his veins like poison. He saw Lina clench her teeth, her eyes searching for a point of reference, a plan, a hope. But there was none.

— How many do we have? murmured a deep, distant voice, barely audible.

— Twenty-seven, replied another, without emotion.

The Mute shuddered. It was more than just him and his friends. Other children. Other fates trapped in this nightmare.

The door closed behind them. Footsteps echoed from the back of the room. A silhouette appeared in the shadows: tall, slender, wrapped in a white coat.

His calm gait and the silence that followed him made it clear he wasn't just a guard. Even the men in black seemed to step aside at his approach.

It was him. The Professor.

The one whose whispers were spoken quietly, like a ghost people preferred to avoid.

He stopped in front of them, inspecting the "merchandise" as one would examine fine fruit.

— Get them out. Prepare them, he said in a cold voice, without looking at them.

The men in black opened the cage. The children were pulled out one by one, trembling legs, wide eyes.

— Don't separate us! Lina shouted.

But her words were swallowed by the roar of boots, orders, muffled cries. Soon, they were scattered, isolated, broken into pieces.

The Mute was dragged into a cold room. A metal table stood at the center, surrounded by strange tools he didn't understand.

— Get on the table, ordered a masked guard in a dry voice.

He obeyed, heart pounding, fighting panic.

The Professor entered then, his measured steps echoing on the floor. He approached, observing the boy like a rare object.

— Hmm… Interesting physical condition, he murmured to himself.

With a precise gesture, he grabbed a syringe. The Mute felt the needle pierce his skin.

He wanted to struggle, but his body no longer obeyed. An iron grip held his shoulder.

— Don't move, said the man in black.

The Professor watched him, surely waiting for a reaction from the boy.

Through the bars of the door, the Mute heard his companions. Some screamed, others seemed to struggle.

A child in the next room was taken out. Without a word.

Another one left. Then another.

The Mute felt something was wrong. These men looked like they were pulling lifeless creatures from the rooms, without even seeing them as human beings.

But he knew there was nothing he could do.

The Professor returned to him.

— You have rare potential, he said calmly. Those like you… are precious.

The boy looked away. He didn't want to give him the satisfaction of visible fear.

— You will become what they expect of you, whether you refuse or not.

Those words sank into his skull like needles. He remembered that phrase that haunted him since capture: You're going to die.

But this time, it was different.

No, he thought. I won't die. Not here. Not like this.

The door closed behind him, cold and silent.

One by one, the torches burned out and the light faded.

The Mute felt his limbs grow heavy. His vision blurred. Something was flowing in his veins. Slowly. Deliberately.

He tried to resist, to keep his eyes open… but he slipped away.

And the world around him went dark without a sound.