The screams cut through the jungle like broken glass—raw, desperate, human.
Marcus and Takashi froze at the edge of the treeline, their eyes meeting in shared understanding. Someone from the crashed capsule was still alive, but their cries for help were a dinner bell for whatever monsters called this island home.
"We have to get to them," Marcus whispered, his medic's instincts warring with tactical reality.
Takashi nodded grimly.
Marcus found himself moving faster without conscious thought. His body seemed to flow through the undergrowth with impossible grace, dodging obstacles before his eyes had fully registered them. Branches that should have caught his jumpsuit passed harmlessly by. Roots that should have tripped him were unconsciously anticipated and avoided. The air pressure. Wasn't it a bit higher than normal? Damn those trees are moving fast. A bit two fast. His speed remembered him the days when he was driving the ambulance.
It wasn't until he burst into the crash site clearing that he realized Takashi was no longer beside him—and that he'd covered the half-mile distance in what felt like minutes.
The scene before him was nightmare fuel.
The capsule had landed hard, crumpling against a massive tree trunk like an accordion. One survivor—a woman in her thirties with short-cropped hair—knelt beside the wreckage, sobbing. Beneath the twisted metal, another figure was trapped from the waist down, conscious and screaming.
"Help me!" the woman cried when she saw Marcus. "Please, I can't move it! He's been pinned for twenty minutes!"
Marcus assessed the situation with clinical precision. The capsule had to weigh at least four tons—more with the reinforced construction necessary for their violent delivery method. The trapped man's legs were almost certainly crushed, but he was conscious and his upper body seemed intact.
Survivable, if they could free him quickly.
Marcus positioned himself at what looked like the most stable lifting point and strained upward with everything he had. The metal didn't budge.
The woman joined him, adding her strength to his. Still nothing.
That's when Takashi arrived, breathing hard, his face flushed with exertion. He took in the scene and moved to help without a word, but even with three people, the capsule remained immovably locked in place.
Takashi stepped back, tears streaming down his face. He'd seen enough battlefield casualties to recognize hopeless situations. The trapped man was going to die here, slowly, while they watched helplessly.
"I'm sorry," he whispered to the pinned survivor. "I'm so sorry."
But Marcus wasn't listening. His vision had shifted into that strange internal perspective he'd experienced during his own healing—but this time, he was looking inward at his own muscular and skeletal systems. He could see the individual muscle fibers, the chemical processes that generated force, the structural limitations of human bone and sinew.
*What if those limitations weren't absolute?*
Memories flooded through him—patients he'd lost to preventable causes, people who'd died because he hadn't been strong enough, fast enough, skilled enough to save them. Dr. Martinez, bleeding out while he performed CPR with textbook precision that wasn't enough. Soldiers in Afghanistan, dying because he couldn't carry them to safety quickly enough.
*Not again. Never again.*
Marcus felt he could shift something deep in his cellular structure. He positioned himself as the leader of an orchestra. Listen to me, he whispered to his own cells. He gave orders. His muscle fibers began reorganizing themselves, becoming denser, more efficient. His skeletal system reinforced itself with deposits of calcium and phosphate that hardened his bones to near-metallic strength. His cardiovascular system flooded his enhanced muscles with oxygenated blood at pressure levels that should have been fatal. He said to some cells, you, go there, you multiply, you stop ATP generation. You stop doing this.
He gripped the capsule and lifted. With his rearranged interior.
The twisted metal groaned, then slowly began to rise. Takashi and the woman scrambled to help, but Marcus was doing most of the work—his body generating forces that defied human physiology.
Inch by inch, the capsule rose. The trapped man was pulled clear by his companion, unconscious now but breathing. Marcus continued lifting until the wreckage was completely clear, then—in a moment of fury at the island that had created this situation—he hurled the four-ton mass of metal 10 feet away, where it crashed into the jungle with the sound of falling trees.
The clearing fell silent except for heavy breathing and the trapped man's unconscious whimpering.
"Jesus Christ," the woman whispered, staring at Marcus like he'd just performed a miracle. "How did you—"
"Check his vitals," Marcus interrupted, already dropping to his knees beside the injured man. He touched him and almost instantly could see the internal damage—crushed bones, internal bleeding, severe trauma that required immediate attention.
But he could also see how to fix it.
---
**Geneva - Secure Facility**
General Klaus Richter entered the sterile briefing room where a single figure waited in the shadows. The man was unremarkable—average height, forgettable face, the kind of person who could disappear in any crowd.
"Your intelligence was flawless," Klaus said, settling into his chair. "The counter-agent worked perfectly. She never knew I was conscious."
The shadowy figure nodded. "Dr. Vasquez has been compromised for months. We've been feeding her handlers carefully selected information while monitoring their responses."
"And you're certain the serum she used was their standard formula?"
"Positive. The same compound they've used in twelve previous operations. The drink I made you swallow before though have you a certain… immunity."
Klaus, grinning , poured himself a glass of water, noting how the man's eyes tracked every movement. Even his allies were afraid of him now. Good. Fear was a useful tool.
"What's the status on Wave Four?"
"Launched successfully. Forty-eight subjects deployed to various sectors of the island. We should begin receiving data within hours."
Klaus nodded, then stood and walked to the window overlooking the facility's grounds. Outside, technicians were preparing the massive electromagnetic launcher for another round of human projectiles.
"Excellent. Continue monitoring Dr. Vasquez's organization. When they realize she's been compromised, they'll either extract her or eliminate her. Either way, we'll learn more about their capabilities."
The shadowy figure melted back into the darkness, leaving Klaus alone with his thoughts and the weight of decisions that would reshape the world.
---
**The Island - Crash Site**
Marcus stared at the capsule's hull markings, maybe a bit too long.
"Capsule 05," he read aloud.
Takashi looked up from where he was helping tend to the injured man. "What about it?"
"We were Capsule 07," Marcus said slowly. "This one is numbered 05. They should have landed before us."
The implications hung in the air like smoke. Time didn't work normally on this island—or space didn't, or the rules that governed cause and effect had been fundamentally altered.
"How is that possible?" the female survivor asked. Her name was Sarah, she'd told them—Dr. Sarah Chen, a military physician who'd volunteered for what she'd been told was a classified research mission.
"Nothing about this place is possible," Takashi muttered. "But here we are."
Before anyone could respond further, Marcus felt his hair stand on end—literally. Every follicle on his body tingled with electrical charge, and some primal instinct screamed danger.
He threw himself sideways just as a spear of crackling wood buried itself in the ground where he'd been standing. The wooden projectile hummed with electricity, still sparking where it had pierced the earth.
"Get down!" he shouted.
Above them, the sky had darkened with something that wasn't clouds. A massive shape blotted out the stars—a dragon constructed from thousands of wooden spears, each one crackling with electrical energy. The creature moved with impossible grace, its form shifting and flowing like liquid lightning.
More spears rained down. Takashi rolled behind the crashed capsule for cover. Dr. Chen scrambled to protect her injured companion. But … they weren't fast enough.
The wooden lightning found them, and they died screaming.
Marcus felt rage build in his chest—clean, pure fury at the senseless waste of life. Without thinking, he looked for the skies, for the menace and unconsciously began to alter his retinal structure, increasing his visual acuity until he could see details on the dragon that should have been impossible at this distance.
Two figures rode the creature's head like riders on some mythical beast. Human figures in modified prison jumpsuits, but changed. Enhanced. One crackling with electrical energy, the other seeming to merge with the wooden construction itself.
"What are you?" Marcus shouted up at them at a phenomenal volume intensity. "What do you want?"
The rain of spears stopped.
The electrical dragon hung motionless in the air for a long moment, then began to dissolve. The wooden components flowed downward like water, forming a spiral staircase that descended from sky to ground with architectural precision.
The two figures walked down the wooden steps with theatrical flair, their enhanced abilities on full display. The first was tall, powerfully built, electricity arcing between his fingers like domesticated lightning. The second moved with the fluid grace of someone who'd learned to bend wood to his will with thought alone.
Marcus recognized them both.
"Well, well," said the electric man, his voice carrying the authority of someone accustomed to being obeyed. "Marcus fucking Ramirez. Should have known you'd survive the landing."
"Thunder," Marcus replied, using the prison nickname. "And Wood. I heard you two got death sentences after that riot."
Thunder—real name Kenneth Morris—had been the undisputed king of Cell Block D. A giant of a man who'd earned his reputation through strategic violence and an intuitive understanding of prison politics. Wood—Lucas Vega—had been his right hand, smaller but vicious, with a talent for improvised weapons that had made him legendary among the inmates.
Now they stood transformed, elevated by whatever force governed this impossible island into something beyond human.
"We got better," Wood said, gesturing to his wooden staircase with obvious pride. "Island's got a way of bringing out potential in people. Some people."
Thunder's eyes swept the crash site, taking inventory of survivors and resources with the same calculating gaze he'd once used to assess prison yard dynamics. "We've got a good thing going here, Marcus. Safe camp, regular food, protection from the worst of what this place throws at you. Could use a medic with your skills."
Marcus felt the weight of the offer. These men had been predators in prison, but they'd also been survivors. If they'd managed to carve out a safe space on this nightmare island, joining them might be the smart play.
"I'm interested," he said carefully. "But I don't travel alone anymore."
Thunder raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? Where's your partner?"
Marcus turned toward the jungle where Takashi had been hiding during the attack. "Commander! You can come out now."
Takashi, shocked and a bit reluctant emerged from behind a tree, his military bearing intact despite the circumstances. He walked toward them with careful dignity, his hands visible and non-threatening.
Thunder and Wood took one look at his face and their expressions shifted to pure hatred.
"You brought us a fucking slope?" Thunder's voice carried the same menace it had during his prison reign. "Are you out of your goddamn mind?"
"His name is Takashi," Marcus said firmly. "He's proven himself. He's with me."
Wood was already shaping his wooden constructs into weapon forms, spears and clubs materializing in the air around him. "Asian motherfucker probably can't wait to sell us out to his government buddies."
Takashi said nothing, but Marcus could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hand drifted unconsciously toward where his sidearm used to be.
"He's on our side," Marcus insisted, stepping between his companions and the two enhanced prisoners. "We're a team."
Thunder studied them both for a long moment, electrical energy dancing around his frame like barely contained storm clouds. Finally, he gestured to Wood, who reluctantly allowed his weapons to dissolve back into harmless timber.
"Fine," Thunder said. "But the slope is your responsibility, Marcus. He steps out of line, causes any problems, and I'll personally fry his yellow ass. Understood?"
Marcus nodded, hating the words but accepting the necessity. "Understood."
Wood's wooden constructs began flowing upward again, reforming into the dragon's body with practiced ease. Thunder gestured for them to climb aboard the makeshift creature.
"Welcome to the Thunder Wood faction," he said as they rose into the alien sky. "Hope you're ready for what this island's really about."
The island had claimed four more souls for its grand experiment.
The real test was just beginning.
---
*End of Chapter 7*