AUTHOR'S NOTE: For some people this chapter could be too dark , If you are one of them I recommend skipping this one , it won't affect your understanding of the story.
As Vivek entered the third basement, a strong scent of blood and rotten flesh assaulted his nose in the pitch-black room. He could see his reflection in an eerie glow. When he tried to get a closer look, the lights in the room suddenly flashed, revealing light rods at each corner, illuminating the gruesome scene. Instinctively, he took a few steps backward, shielding his eyes with his hands.
Slowly lowering his hands, Vivek surveyed the room, now bathed in an unsettling crimson hue. The floor bore the evidence of its macabre history, and the continuous stench assaulted his senses. Yet, he stood there indifferently, focusing on the surgical table in the middle of the room.
The table was saturated with blood, and upon it lay a man staring at Vivek. In his eyes, there was a silent supplication, not begging for mercy or help, but rather conveying a subtle request, silently asking for death.
The man's complete jaw, with teeth wide open as if forcefully pulled apart, was visible. His body was torn open in the middle, with intestines and other organs hanging outside the edge of the table, still connected to his body. Destruction marred his arm, shoulder, and legs, rendering the muscles completely ravaged. The scene was bathed in an eerie atmosphere, with a purple glow mingling with the haunting presence of blood. Despite the brutality, the man's clothes remained on, albeit reduced to mere rags. Vivek, with his dead eyes, stood there calmly, unmoved by the horrifying sight before him.
Vivek drew closer to the man, locking eyes with him. He reached for his pen, removed the lower cap, revealing a small knife of finger length. With precision, he cut the man's throat open and then punctured his heart. The man trembled briefly, but soon his pupils contracted, devoid of the little spark that had once lit them up. His eyes now mirrored a lifeless emptiness.
"There was no saving him now; this is the only help anyone could give him," Vivek muttered coldly.
"This is what happens when the new serum fails.
With a resigned determination, he continued, "There's no other choice but to give it a shot; otherwise, I might as well be done for."
Multiple catheters were inserted into the lifeless body, in arms, legs, chest, and more. Vivek methodically removed each one with his hands. Turning the table upside down, the corpse rolled towards one of the edges of the basement, beside which was a screen that almost covered the entire wall. The basement, though not very big, provided a cozy yet eerie space for these grim procedures.
Vivek approached the corpse lying near the edge of the room, snatching out his shirt, which was in tatters, and used it to clean the remnants on the table. Methodically, he wiped away the macabre traces left by the previous procedure. When the cloth was completely soaked in blood and could no longer be used, he tossed it aside and once again approached the corpse. This time, he removed whatever was left of his jeans and meticulously wiped the table again.
The table now appeared significantly improved, devoid of the gruesome evidence that had tainted it moments before. Vivek then moved the table back to the center of the room. Above it hung a mechanical construct with multiple lines connecting to the screen on the front wall and several arms linking to each catheter, creating an intricate web of connections for the upcoming simulation process.
Vivek approached the screen and activated it by scanning his ID pen. A robotic buzzing sound resonated in the room as he returned to the table and reclined upon it.
The table clung tightly to his waist, arms, legs, and neck, imprinting marks as it pressed against him. Though he clenched his fists and bit his lips, no expression crossed his face. Subject 1289, his stoic demeanor unwavering.
"Subject 1289, simulation will begin on the count of ten."
Jets of water, sharp as razors, shot out of the catheter, tearing his clothes on the respective areas and even causing small lacerations on his flesh. Still, his face remained unmoved. Indifferent to his own pain, just as he was to the suffering of others (his loved ones always being the exception).
The water not only cleared the blood and used serum in the catheter but also left proper markings on his flesh for catheter insertion.
The countdown continued, "6... 7... 8... 9... 10."
"Insertion process started. Inserting catheter to blood vessels and muscles."
Tens of needle-sharp catheters moved into his blood vessels and muscles, gradually penetrating deeper. He clenched his fists, and unwittingly, a drop of tear fell from his eyes.
"Releasing serum."
Pain assaulted him, as if he was being torn apart bit by bit. His eyes widened as if they would pop out of their sockets, eyebrows raised like a surging wave. His mouth stretched open, but no sound escaped. Nails dug into his palms, drawing blood. This was a kind of pain he had never experienced in his forty years of life.
For working in the shadows, enduring two decades of consistent torture and sadism had made Vivek accustomed to a life of relentless pain. One of the most harrowing experiences etched into his memory was when, at the tender age of 19, he fell into the clutches of his enemies.
For three agonizing months, he was subjected to the depths of human cruelty, experiencing the harsh realities of the world bit by bit every day. Each day under their tormentors, he faced torture three times, with each session lasting for a grueling five hours. To them, he was nothing more than a plaything, a ragged doll upon which they could inflict any torment imaginable.
The most dehumanizing aspect was when they stripped him of all his clothes, forcing him to lay down on an ice block with his exposed backside facing them. One by one, they would throw a generous serving of chili with a sparkly kick on his nether and back regions, accompanied by brutal beatings on his back with an oil-soaked metal rod. The anticipation of whose turn it was only heightened the intensity of his suffering, and in the midst of the ordeal, his voice would rise louder, a desperate attempt to express the unbearable pain he endured. This experience marked a dark chapter in his past, one that had left indelible scars on both his body and soul.
But the pain then was nothing compared to now.
The serum moved slowly into his body, inflating his blood vessels and muscles, obstructing blood flow in specific regions. He gulped a mouthful of air but felt like he was catching none.
The temperature of the serum rose sharply, making him cough blood onto himself. The blood had an eerie purple glow to it, and the muscles on his right arm and leg swelled as if someone was pumping air into them. With a loud bang, the muscle of his right leg exploded inside, and soon a similar fate befell his right arm and left leg simultaneously. The veins in his eyes swelled red, and his face turned white. Blood flowed from both of his nostrils, and then, with another bang, his chest and left arm muscles burst inside his skin, followed by his core muscles.
He looked as if the corpse before was stitched together. Somehow, he managed to remain conscious through sheer willpower, but his eyes were closing involuntarily, as if he had no control over them.
Only nine minutes had passed, but to him, it felt like hours had gone by.
"Initial step complete," the voice emanated from the side of the screen.
"Initiating advance step in 3... 2... 1."
The needles were retracted by the mechanical arm, and a wire from the table connected itself to Vivek's chip at the back of his neck. The chip was instantly electrified. It powered up, sending signals to the serum coursing through his body. The serum heated up rapidly, melting the muscles of the swollen and destroyed areas. Vivek teetered on the edge of unconsciousness but fought to stay awake, recognizing that remaining conscious was imperative for the final stage. The struggle to maintain awareness intensified, amplifying the gravity of his ordeal.
"Advanced step complete, proceeding to the final step in 3... 2... 1..."
"Hello, subject 1289. In the final stage, your muscle rebuilding process will commence. Do we have your consent?"
"Yes," he managed to say, though the pain muffled his response. ["What kind of a ridiculous question is this?"]
"Subject has consented. Estimated time: eight hours, forty-five minutes, and fifty-two seconds. Would you like to have a skill stored in your drive?"
Vivek attempted to speak, but the pain suppressed his voice.
"If the subject doesn't reply, the operation will be terminated."
"No," he replied, summoning all the strength he had left, and then he succumbed to unconsciousness.
"Subject fell unconscious and replied with no as an answer. Proceeding to the final step."
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Almost nine hours later,
Vivek opened his eyes, the wire still stuck in the back of his neck, the table no longer holding him.
He plucked the wire from his neck, causing a shiver to run down his spine, and sat on the table, hanging his legs over the edge.
His entire body throbbed with pain, and even the slightest movement threatened to tear the newly rebuilt tissues.
Surveying himself, he noticed that almost all his clothes were destroyed, leaving only tattered traces of what they once were. However, what remained was far more impressive – the muscles on both of his arms, legs, chest, and core were nearly double their original size. It was a transformation akin to Bruce Banner becoming the Hulk. (Note: It's just an exaggeration , do not assume him to turn into hulk for real)
The doorway to the passage opened.