The fluorescent lights buzz faintly over the medical bay. Jack lies on a reinforced cot, his arms wrapped in silver restraints that hum with low energy. His breathing is shallow but steady — not human-steady, something else steady.
Behind the glass, a group of scientists and officers argue in tired voices.
> "We've run every test twice," one of the techs says, slamming a datapad on the counter. "No readings. No pulse signatures we can trace, no DNA match to baseline human. Whatever he's made of now, it's rewriting itself every second."
Dr. Havel rubs the bridge of his nose. "This is the third attempt at a tissue extraction. Each time, the sample disintegrates before the analysis completes. His body isn't just healing — it's rejecting observation."
The officer beside him — Captain Ardin — exhales through his teeth. "And yet, he's alive. That recon mission should've killed him ten times over. Reports said the entire recon unit vanished. Locals swore they saw monsters—"
"Monsters he made," Havel interrupts quietly. "At least, that's what their stories suggest."
The captain looks at the monitor displaying footage from the Arena — Jack, Nova, and Rift fighting back to back, surrounded by smoke and shattered metal. Rift's voice rippling the air like a war drum, Nova bending gravity to crush enemy teams into the floor, Jack standing at the front with eyes glowing like wildfire.
> "This was his last registered assignment," the captain says. "Arena 45 — team trial for Rank 5 advancement. They won. A clean sweep. After that, he was immediately reassigned to a field recon op. No rest, no debrief. Straight to the island."
Havel lowers his hands. "And now he's the only one we brought back. Barely breathing. But… alive."
The silence in the room is heavy. The captain finally nods.
"Then we stop trying to break him down. Whatever he is, it's beyond our instruments. We file it as an anomaly, not a failure."
A younger officer frowns. "So what do we tell the Board?"
The captain answers flatly, "That his endurance alone meets Rank 7 combat qualification. He survived a multi-team arena, a full recon massacre, and extreme biological stress. That's Rank 7 material — even if he's a damn ghost now."
Havel hesitates. "You're recommending a rank-up for something we don't understand?"
"I'm recommending we stop wasting resources and let the Board handle it," the captain replies. "Mark him as Promotion Pending — Rank 7. Put him in holding until further orders."
The junior officer swallows hard. "Understood. Deploy sedation gas?"
"Yeah. Non-invasive," the captain says. "We need him stable, not shredded."
Havel leans close to the microphone. "Release sleeping gas to the chamber."
The vents hiss, filling the room with a faint blue mist. Jack's breathing slows. His hand twitches once — as if remembering something — Nova's laugh, Rift's song — before he exhales and drifts under.
> "Once he's out," Havel says softly, "move him to the Rank 7 holding cell. He's not a patient anymore… he's an asset."
"Copy that," the captain replies. "Alright, team — let's go."
---
Scene: Holding Level — R7
Jack wakes slowly. The ceiling above him is dull metal, lined with faint seams and glowing lines of data-stream light. His arms are unrestrained now, but every movement makes the air hum — the cell is alive, monitoring him.
Through the observation glass, he can see faint silhouettes — scientists taking notes, guards posted near the door.
On the far wall, a small display flickers to life:
> SUBJECT 07 — RANK 7 (PENDING BOARD REVIEW)
LAST ASSIGNMENT: Arena 45 — Rank 5 Trial (Team Victory)
STATUS: Recovery and Containment
Jack stares at it for a long time.
He remembers Nova's voice — steady, confident — "We'll crush them, then take a week off, yeah?"
He remembers Rift's grin and the deep hum in his chest as he sang them stronger through the fight.
And then the mission. The island. The blood. The madness.
He closes his eyes. His chest rises and falls in silence.
> They think I'm an experiment, he thinks. Let them. They'll never see the real test coming.
Outside, the captain signs off the final report.
"Board review in forty-eight hours," he tells Havel. "Until then, no contact."
The doctor nods but keeps staring at the monitor showing Jack's vitals — the steady pulse of something inhumanly calm.
Jack exhales, a ghost of a smile flickering across his face.
They think he's contained.
But in the quiet hum of the R7 cell, he's already thinking ten steps ahead.
The door slid shut behind Jack with a hollow clang. The echo faded into a low hum — the sound of energy running through the walls.
The room was circular, white, and cold. In the center stood a wide metal table surrounded by four chairs. From its core, a faint blue glow pulsed upward — a holographic pillar waiting to come alive.
Jack walked forward, the sound of his boots soft against the floor. He sat, crossed his legs, and pressed his fingertips together — just like he had in the cell. The air seemed to thrum with his pulse.
When he opened his eyes, the hologram flickered on.
Twenty figures appeared around him — twenty living people. Their outlines shimmered, but their eyes moved, their breathing visible. Not soldiers. Not agents. Just… powered humans. Each of them different. Each of them dangerous.
A calm voice echoed through the room:
> "Welcome, Rank 7 operative.
Team selection protocol initiated.
Twenty available candidates — all enhanced.
You may select two.
Warning: choosing three will place you in Extreme Combat Division — death rate: seventy-one percent."
Jack leaned back in his chair, eyes tracing the holograms. Some glowed with fire in their palms. Others crackled with lightning. A girl's shadow moved differently than her body — alive on its own. One man's breath froze the air around him.
> "They're not soldiers…" Jack said quietly. "They're powered."
He touched the table's surface — streams of data moved under his fingertips. Each name came with a story: fugitives, survivors, experiments, accidents. No two the same. No two stable.
> "You want me to pick a team from chaos," he murmured. "Interesting."
The guards watching from the control room leaned forward, eyes glued to the monitor.
> "He's analyzing them," one whispered.
"Like he's reading them," said the other.
Inside, Jack wasn't just watching — he felt them. He could sense power leaking from the holograms, taste it in the air. His own energy resonated, faint symbols glowing across his skin for a split second.
Then he remembered.
The world inside his head.
The monsters he'd trained — creatures of nightmare and instinct, forced to fight until they evolved beyond pain.
He smiled faintly.
> "You got stronger too," he whispered. "So will they."
The holograms kept shifting. Each face stared back at him — some confident, some afraid. A girl with eyes like burning glass. A boy whose heartbeat echoed like thunder.
He tapped the table twice. Two profiles froze in place.
> "Confirm," Jack said quietly.
The AI replied:
> "Selection confirmed. Team assembly in progress. Please remain seated."
The room dimmed. The holograms dissolved into a haze of blue light, leaving Jack alone with the hum of the machine.
He looked down at his reflection in the glass table — faint markings still glowing on his skin before fading.
> "A year in my mind… three days here," he muttered. "They'll never understand what I became."
The lights flickered once — a static tremor ran through the building's feed.
Outside, a guard frowned.
> "Did that… come from his room?"
"Probably just interference," the other said. But his voice shook.
Inside, Jack closed his eyes again. A faint grin tugged at his lips.
> "Now let's see if my new team survives me."
The heavy door slid open with a low hiss as Vex and Dex entered the room.
Both froze when they saw who was waiting for them — Jack, sitting calmly beside the holographic table, its soft blue glow lighting the scars along his arms.
Dex blinked.
> "Wait— you picked us?"
Vex frowned, arms crossed.
> "That doesn't make sense. There were twenty choices — people with real control, real experience. We barely scraped through the last trial."
Dex laughed awkwardly.
> "Yeah, I literally almost blew up the arena last time. You sure you clicked the right names, man?"
Jack didn't move at first. He studied them both — Dex with his restless energy, Vex with his quiet uncertainty — then finally stood. His presence filled the room without effort.
> "I didn't make a mistake," Jack said, his tone calm but firm. "I chose you because I see something in both of you."
The two glanced at each other, confused.
Jack stepped closer, the glow from the hologram reflecting in his eyes.
> "Dex, you build things others can't even imagine. You just don't know how to focus yet."
Dex blinked, caught off guard.
Jack turned to Vex.
> "And you — your power isn't a curse. You just don't understand its balance. Poison can kill, but it can also heal. Learn that difference, and you'll be stronger than anyone here."
Vex looked down, processing Jack's words.
Jack folded his arms, his expression thoughtful.
> "I've seen warriors rise and fall because they only cared about power. You two… you're not there yet. But I want to see what you become when you stop trying to survive — and start fighting to grow."
Silence hung in the air for a moment. Then Dex grinned faintly.
> "Guess we got lucky, huh?"
Vex gave a quiet nod.
> "Or maybe he's crazy."
Jack allowed a small smile.
> "Maybe both."
The holographic table flickered, displaying the words:
> TEAM SEVEN — CONFIRMED.
As the door sealed behind them, a quiet determination filled the room. For the first time, both Vex and Dex felt it — a strange confidence they hadn't known before.
Under Jack's leadership, maybe they weren't just survivors anymore.
Maybe they really could become warriors.