"Aaah, ahhhh!" John howls in pain once again, his body writhing uncontrollably as he remains shackled to the cold, unforgiving bed. It has been a month—one long, painful month. Every moment feels like an eternity. What he is enduring now is beyond anything he has ever felt before. Each day intensifies the torment, both physical and mental. With every passing hour, he feels as though he is losing his grip on reality.
The pain is endless and unrelenting. There are moments when he truly believes that death might be the only escape, that the pain will finally end. Yet, death refuses to come. They won't allow him that peace. Despite the unimaginable suffering, they are determined to keep him alive. They pump his body full of energy pills and injections. Their only goal is to keep his broken body functioning—alive, so they can continue using him.
As a nurse draws blood from John, the sharp, clinical sound of the needle piercing his skin sends a fresh wave of agony through his veins. Dr. White stands at the edge of the room, his face unreadable as he watches the procedure. Without lifting his eyes from the papers in front of him, he orders, "Take him back."
The soldiers respond immediately, moving swiftly to remove John's chains. However, the handcuffs remain tightly secured, a constant reminder of his captivity. His limbs feel numb and unresponsive, his body a mass of pain. Still, they offer him no relief, no mercy.
As they drag him out of the room, John's voice, hoarse and barely above a whisper, breaks the silence. "I will kill you... all of you..." His words are filled with venom, a hollow promise from a man on the brink of total collapse.
Dr. White pauses, momentarily glancing toward John's fading figure. He looks on with a mixture of indifference and amusement. "Tch," he mutters under his breath. "He still has the energy to threaten us." With that, he dismisses the moment, returning to his reports as though John's words were nothing more than an insignificant distraction.
Just then, a soldier approaches Dr. White with a sense of urgency. "Sir, Mr. Adam has requested your presence."
Dr. White stops what he's doing. He gives a brief nod to his assistant. "Check Subject 7's data. See if there have been any changes," he orders. Then, he follows the soldier down the hallway.
They pass through several security gates, each one guarded by armed personnel. Finally, they reach a black door, the last barrier between them and the inner sanctum of the facility. The guard at the door halts them and raises his walkie-talkie to his mouth. "Dr. White is here."
A crackling response comes through the device. "Let him enter."
The gate opens, and Dr. White steps inside, leaving the soldier behind. The door slides shut with a low, ominous click.
Inside, Dr. White finds a man seated at a desk, reviewing documents. A guard stands behind him, heavily armed with a rifle, pistol, and knives.
Dr. White focuses on the man sitting at the desk. This is Mr. Adam, the one he works for.
Adam looks up from his papers and meets Dr. White's gaze. "Any progress, Dr. White?" he asks.
"No," Dr. White replies, shaking his head. "We still can't develop any drug to improve the mutants' abilities."
This is the project they have been working on—a drug designed to increase the potential of mutants. But so far, their efforts have been fruitless.
The guard clench his fist like controlling his emotions.
"We've brought everything you requested, Doctor," Adam says, his voice steady but edged with frustration. "The equipment, the drugs you need, and the mutants to experiment on." He pauses for a moment, letting the words settle before continuing. "But still, you haven't provided any improvement. No results."
He leans forward, his eyes narrowing as he adds, "Do you have any idea how much money has been wasted so far, Dr. White? The cost of keeping the military at bay, keeping this base hidden, securing and guarding this entire operation. Do you?"
Dr. White responds, "Yes, I know. That's why I am working continuously, non-stop. You know it too."
Adam doesn't respond right away. He knows that Dr. White is working, that he isn't wasting time, but his anger doesn't subside. He understands that everything that happens at this base is under his watch.
"I need progress, Doctor," Adam says, his voice cold and stern. "A drug to improve the mutants' abilities. And I need it soon."
After a brief discussion, Dr. White leaves, leaving Adam and his guard alone.
"Dammit, when will we get the drug?" the guard mutters with irritation. His voice is a rare sound—so rarely heard that anyone who might overhear would be shocked.
"Calm down," Adam responds, his tone still sharp but tinged with exhaustion. He rubs his temples with his left hand, trying to ease the pressure building inside his head.
"We still have time," Adam says, attempting to reassure the guard.
"Time?" the guard snaps. "You have time. I have time. But she doesn't. How can you ask me to calm down when she doesn't have time, Adam?" His voice rises, filled with frustration and urgency.
Adam stands abruptly, his usually composed demeanor slipping. "I know it too," he says firmly, his eyes locked on the guard. "I know it too, Brian. I'm doing everything I can—risking everything I've built—for her. Only for her." His voice grows heavier, more resolute. "I didn't hesitate, not once. And I never will. So don't shout at me. Like you, I'm ready to sacrifice everything for her."
Brian freezes, the tension between them palpable. After a moment, he exhales shakily. "Sorry, Adam," he says, his voice softer now, laced with guilt. "I just... I just can't take it anymore."
"I know," Adam replies, his tone calmer but weighted with shared pain. He steps closer, placing a steady hand on Brian's shoulder, an attempt to offer both support and solace. "We're both carrying this burden, Brian. And I promise—we'll find a way."
********
Author's pov
Gacha cards ideas