They didn't send a doctor.
They threw in a gorilla.
The door hissed, and something huge crashed into the white room—a wall of dark fur, muscle, and rage landing on all fours hard enough to make the floor jump.
Raku flinched back against the wall.
The gorilla's chest heaved. Its eyes were wild, rolling too fast. Foam clung to the corners of its mouth. Metal bands bit into its thick wrists and ankles, thin wires running up to a collar at its throat.
"This is a joke," Raku whispered.
No one laughed.
Cameras watched from the corners. A strip of tinted glass cut across the upper part of one wall. Behind it, silhouettes moved. People. Observing.
A voice crackled from a speaker overhead, flat and cold.
"Subject R: Raku De Costa. Baseline combat assessment. Begin."
Raku stared up at the ceiling. "Are you insane?!"
The gorilla roared.
He felt it in his ribs more than he heard it. Spit sprayed across the white tiles as it slammed its fists into the floor, denting the "unbreakable" surface. The collar around its neck blinked red.
"Stop," Raku shouted. "I'm not— I'm a student! I have a math test next week, I don't fight animals!"
"Begin," the voice repeated, same calm tone.
The collar sparked.
The gorilla convulsed, muscles seizing, then lurched forward with a sound that was more pain than anger.
It charged.
Raku did the most natural thing in the world: he ran.
The room wasn't big enough.
He juked left, then right, shoes sliding on the too-clean tiles. The gorilla slammed into the wall where he'd been a second earlier, the impact cracking the paint and leaving a fist-sized crater.
Raku's heartbeat slammed against his ribs. He grabbed at empty air for something—chair, pole, anything. The room had been designed to give him nothing. No furniture, no cover. Just him and a monster in a box.
"Please!" he yelled, throat raw. "You can't just—"
The gorilla swung an arm the size of his torso.
He ducked.
The fist punched into the wall above his head, sending a fine spray of white dust down over his hair.
If that hits me, he thought, I don't get up. There's no hospital after that. Just a body to clean.
His back hit the wall. No more space.
The gorilla turned, snorting, eyes locking on him with horrible clarity. Whatever they'd done to it, it understood one thing: he was the target.
"Subject R displays evasive response," the speaker droned. "Proceeding."
"Shut up!" Raku screamed.
He didn't know if he was yelling at the voice, the cameras, or the whole situation.
The gorilla lunged.
No time to dodge.
No weapon.
No plan.
His body moved again, same way it had on the street.
His right hand curled into a fist.
He stepped into the swing.
He punched up.
His fist connected with the gorilla's chest.
It felt like hitting a truck.
For a split second, his knuckles screamed. Bone, muscle, everything in his hand said he'd made a catastrophic mistake.
Then something else kicked in.
It was like that moment at the Hole—but turned inward. Pressure building under his skin, snapping loose. The air around his fist warped a little, as if the world braced for impact.
The gorilla left the ground.
All of it.
The entire massive animal flew backward and smashed into the far wall.
Cracks spiderwebbed through the reinforced panel. The gorilla slid down, limbs limp, air wheezing out of its lungs in a rattling groan.
Silence.
Raku stood there, fist still out, chest heaving, hand buzzing like it belonged to someone else.
He stared at his knuckles.
He hadn't just defended himself. He'd launched a monster across the room with one punch.
If I can do that to it, he thought, what happens if I lose it on a person again?
The gorilla twitched.
Raku flinched, heartbeat spiking, but the collar around its neck beeped twice. A sharp burst of current made its muscles seize, then sag. Its breathing steadied into slow, heavy inhales.
"Subject R demonstrates atypical kinetic output," the voice said, as if reading from a form. "No external augmentation detected. Mark as high-value anomaly."
"Anomaly," Raku repeated, numb.
His mouth tasted like metal. Not blood—like he'd been sucking on a handful of coins.
He looked up at the glass strip.
He couldn't see faces clearly, just blurred outlines, but he felt their attention like a weight pressing against his skin.
Osio.
The thought hit hard enough to make his throat close.
"Where is my friend?" he shouted. "Osio Bonodefasi. You took him too, right? Where is he?!"
No answer.
The collar on the gorilla blinked yellow, then green.
The door hissed open.
Four figures in pale gear rushed in with a stretcher rig and a metal frame. They moved around him like he was part of the wall, locking the gorilla in place with practiced hands.
Raku stepped back, fists clenched.
"Hey!" he snapped. "I said—"
"Sedate him," the speaker said. Same tone. Zero emotion.
He barely saw the needle move.
Just a flash at the edge of his vision, then a sting in his arm.
Cold fire spread under his skin.
He swung on instinct, but his body was already abandoning him. His punch cut nothing. The floor tilted gently, like the whole room had decided to lean.
The buzzing lights blurred into long, bright streaks overhead. His legs stopped sending useful information. His tongue went heavy.
Through the ringing in his ears, he picked out one last voice—different from the speaker, close to the glass.
"Whatever he is," a man said, almost pleased, "he's exactly what we've been looking for."
Darkness grabbed the edges of his vision and pulled tight.
He didn't even have time to scream.