"Compound V." Nolan's voice emerged flat from his helmet speakers, testing the words.
He filed the name away for later consideration and moved to his next question.
"Where is it stored? The compound itself."
The brown-haired woman's expression shifted. Something like bitter amusement crossed her tear-stained face. She raised one hand slowly, deliberately, and extended her middle finger toward the center of the facility.
"Right there. In that sealed laboratory." Her voice carried an edge now, sarcasm mixed with desperation. "Roxxon keeps independent samples of Compounds One through Five. One of their backup caches. Insurance for humanity's glorious future."
The words dripped with venom.
Her middle finger remained raised, pointing. But now it wasn't just directional. It was defiance.
Nolan seemed not to notice the gesture. His helmet tilted slightly downward.
"What aren't you telling me?"
Before she could answer, sirens shrieked to life. Ear-splitting. The facility's lights shifted from white to red, bathing everything in the color of blood and warning.
The woman's bitter smile widened into something feral.
"You don't get to take anything!" she screamed, voice cracking. "Did you think I was begging for my life? No, you fucking idiot! I was stalling!"
She thrust both middle fingers up now, shaking with rage and triumph.
"You men love violence so much? Love killing? Fine! Subject 1101 is loose now! It's coming for you, and it's going to tear you apart!"
David's voice cut through the communication channel before Nolan could respond.
"My lord, I've detected movement. A concealed staff member manually opened the central laboratory. Something was released. A humanoid entity. I'm sorry, my lord. This oversight is mine."
Nolan shook his head slightly, cutting off David's apology.
He raised the plasma pistol and fired without hesitation.
The superheated projectile caught all five medical staff in its blast radius. They had just enough time to register what was happening before plasma cooked them from the inside out. Their screams cut off instantly. Ash and carbon residue remained.
"David, this isn't your failure." Nolan stood amid the settling ash, watching a strand of brown hair blacken and disintegrate. "Hoping most humans will stay rational is a luxury we can't afford."
A metallic screech echoed through the corridor. Something tearing metal with terrible strength.
Then a scream. Human. Short. Ending abruptly.
Nolan turned toward the sound and ceased communication. He holstered the plasma pistol with his free hand and drew the Precision Bolter from his back. The weapon was heavy, brutal, designed to kill things that refused to die easily.
He'd need it.
Around the corner at the corridor's end, a small figure emerged into the red emergency lighting.
A child. A boy, maybe eleven or twelve years old. He wore a hospital gown, white fabric stained with fresh blood. His head was completely hairless, skin pale and almost translucent. His face held delicate features that might have been handsome if not for the complete absence of expression.
Only his eyes showed life. Blue eyes that blinked rapidly, darting around with childlike curiosity.
In one small hand, he dragged half a corpse. The body left a thick trail of blood as the boy pulled it along casually, the way another child might drag a teddy bear.
Nolan exhaled slowly. His armored fingers tightened on the bolter.
The boy noticed Nolan's movement. His mouth opened in a surprised "oh" of delight.
He dropped the corpse immediately. His arms spread wide. His expression lit up with excitement.
Then he charged.
His bare feet hit the floor with tremendous force. Concrete cracked under each step. The boy moved with speed that no child should possess, closing distance rapidly.
"Stop!" Nolan barked. "Stop now or face the consequences!"
The warning had no effect. The boy kept coming, faster now, those blue eyes wide with joy at finding a new toy.
His thin arms swung wildly. Air cracked with each movement, sonic booms from metahuman strength compressed into a child's frame.
Nolan took a breath, steadied himself, and fired.
The plasma pistol spat a superheated sphere directly at the charging child. It struck center mass and detonated.
Blue-white plasma engulfed the small body completely.
"I'm sorry," Nolan said quietly. "You asked for this."
He lowered the pistol and turned to continue his mission.
A howl erupted from within the plasma fire. Not pain. Rage.
The boy burst through the dissipating energy, skin glowing red-hot but otherwise unharmed. The plasma had done nothing. He'd walked through temperatures that should have vaporized him and emerged without even burns.
His face twisted with fury now, that innocent curiosity replaced by animal aggression.
Nolan's response was immediate. He backpedaled, holstering the plasma pistol in one fluid motion while raising the Precision Bolter with both hands.
His entire body tensed. Muscles coiled. Servo-motors in the armor whined as they compensated for the weapon's recoil.
He fired.
The bolter roared.
The explosive round caught the boy mid-charge and detonated on impact. The blast lifted him off his feet and hurled him backward several meters. He hit the floor hard, rolling, limbs flailing.
Nolan advanced steadily, bolter already tracking for the next shot.
The boy tried to rise. The bolter roared again. The explosive round slammed into his torso and detonated, driving him back down.
He screamed now. Not rage. Pain. Finally, pain.
Nolan walked forward with measured steps. Every few meters, he fired again. Each bolt round hit with devastating force, the mass-reactive warhead detonating inside the target. The boy's metahuman durability kept his body intact, but the concussive force was accumulating. Internal organs bruising. Bones fracturing under repeated impacts.
The boy couldn't get up. Couldn't even crawl. Each time he tried, another explosion drove him flat.
Nolan reached him and stopped.
Subject 1101 lay broken on cracked concrete. His body showed almost no external damage—the durability was incredible—but blood leaked from his mouth and nose. Internal hemorrhaging. Ruptured organs. The body's exterior might be near-invulnerable, but the insides were still human. Still vulnerable to force transfer.
The boy raised his head slightly. Tried to lift one small arm in threat or plea. His blue eyes fixed on Nolan's helmet, confusion mixed with pain and fading consciousness.
Nolan stared down at him.
"Don't blame me, kid." His voice was quiet, almost gentle. "This is for your own good."
The Precision Bolter's barrel aligned with the boy's head.
"They did this to you. Made you into a weapon. A monster. Took away your childhood, your choices, your humanity. They'd keep you locked in a cage forever, only letting you out to kill."
The boy's eyes were glazing over now. Blood ran from his ears.
"I'm setting you free. It's the only kindness I can offer."
Nolan's finger tightened on the trigger.
The bolter roared one final time.