I'm just here. Without him. I'm just here.
I have no idea what they did with his body.Maybe they burned it. Turned Dan to ash. A dead agent is more useless than a blank sheet of paper.
Unless theywanted to do an autopsy.Noone has been able to replicatethe superhuman toxin created byDr Mia Solar.OI might think they can scrape something out of Dan’s corpse that will help them to do the impossible.
Liquid Onyx changed the world. It brought about the beginning of the superhero era.Dr Mia Solarwould be one of the most famous people in world if anyone outside of Obsidian Inc. and FISA knew her name.
"This is going to hurt."
I'm chained to the floor, naked, scrunched up in a ball. Moving is not an option. If I had it in me to want that,then this wholesituation I've got going on right nowwould be a considerable problem.
I think I've been here for days. It's hard to know without windows. I could very well have been here for weeks. But the pain from my position, and the biting strength of the chains, hasn't yet numbed, sothat seems unlikely.
There are three people in here with me. That's new. I have no idea who they are or what they're about to do to me. That is not new.
One of them is holding something. A syringe. A large one.The syringeappears to be filled with pale-blue liquid. It doesn't take a genius or a superspy tounderstand I'm about to be the test subjectfor whatever that blue liquid is.
If Dan were here, he would already be fighting toescape, like a tiger caught in a trap. It would be futile, and he would know that as well as I do, but he would still fight. Dan always hated being experimented on. He admitted to me once that it brought back memories that frightened him. That was years ago, when we were small and still unsure about what it truly meant to be an OI agent. Back before we had real things to be afraid of.
Neither of us remembered much about what Dr Solar did. We were soyoung at the time. ButI remember how it felt when Liquid Onyx enteredmy bloodstream, transforming my blood from red to black.I remember the absolute agony of it hitting my system. I remember thescreams of the ones who died, and I rememberthe screams of the ones who lived. They sounded the same until they didn't. It was like a train splitting at a junction, the two parts heading down separate tracks. One led to a dead end, the other to a new state of existence.
Two of the OI agents move tohold me downas the remaining agent, the one carrying the syringe, goes to stand behind me. Whatever is in that syringe must be pretty bad if they think the chains won'tbe enough to keep me still once it's done.
Liquid Onyxmade mestronger and faster than an ordinary person. I'm strong enough to break out of normal chains ifI really need to but not the reinforced-steel ones that OI uses. The only way I might be able to escape these chains is if I was willing to die in the process.
When the three OI agents first came into the room, I took a moment to study them. It was an automatic reaction. I've been trainedto pick up on and note every possible weakness and strength ofapotential threat. It's not something I can control anymore. Like theinstinct to flinch away from a strike, it’s a reflex.
After a few minutesof observation, I dismissed them as aflock ofOI grunts.Average fighting skills and equally average intelligence. I knew they weren't going to kill me, not yet anyway,so whatever else they had planned was unimportant.
I try not to tense up when the OI agents touch me, which is stupid. Caring if they see my discomfort is a moot point when I'm chained to the floor already. They know I'm uncomfortable. Acting like I'm not wouldbe a pride thing, and I grew out of that shit years ago.
Behind me, the OI agent holding the syringe puts his hand on the back of my head and pushes down.
"Brace yourself, Agent Jack,” he tells me. “This is going be a bad day."
I feel the tip of the needle press againstthe skin of mybare neck for a single second before the OI agent pushes it all way in. The needle is thick and long, and yeah, it hurts, but that barely registers. It's more of anodd sensationthan a painful one.
Nothing happens at first,and that makes me morenervous rather than less. Waiting forthe inevitable can really mess withyou.I feel my muscles tense without my permission. There's only so much control you can have over your own body. The OI guards hold onto me even tighter than before. Clearly, they're expecting something more from me. From this.
Fear ignites. Anger pulses. Impatience spirals.
When it finally does happen, I die.
Or at least that'swhat it feels like. I've been close enough to death before that I recognise theshadow that wraps itself around mefor what it is.
I feel death reach out with its claws of mercy, andin response, Ipeel back the mask. I become what I am.A creature of murder.And when Ibare my fangs at death, avoice inside my head starts to laugh.
Dying is, contrary to popular belief, chaotic. I know some people find peace in it, in the sensation of fading away. But not me. I never have. Dying is too wild, too overwhelming and unfathomable for me to accept. It's like a dream you know is a dream, and youwant toescape it, but you can't because your mindwon't let you. Except with dying, it isn't just your mind. It's your body too.
Mind and body work together toturn everything inward andthen inside out.
I hear a noise from far away. It sounds like an animalwhose throat is being crushed by a cruel hand. Beyond that is the creak and snap of chains, infused with the franticshouts of men.
There are hands all over me now. Hands keeping mesteady, making sure I stay down. There's pain. So much pain. A world of pain I never knew existed. But the touch of rough, sweaty hands is what becomes unbearable.
"He can't take it." A voice from another plane of existence.
"He will." An answering commandment.
