It wasn't metal, but an unfamiliar material. Miller referred to it as Killiden, a substance created by something called The Vault—the strongest and most powerful remnant of a forgotten era. A material so rare and nearly indestructible that only a handful of people had any knowledge of its existence. It was as if they had fused the very essence of strength and resilience into a single, impenetrable compound.
When I first felt it—this new layer of protection woven into my body—I realized just how far they had gone to transform me into something far beyond human. I had never seen Killiden before, but the moment I touched it, I knew. It had an unnatural smoothness, like obsidian, but with a subtle, almost imperceptible warmth that seemed to hum with energy.
Miller had mentioned The Vault in passing, though his tone suggested it was a name far too dangerous to linger on. What was clear was that this material was the key to everything now—the difference between who I was before and who I was becoming.
This wasn't just about enhancing the body. It was about creating something unstoppable, something designed to endure and conquer. But I wasn't sure whether that was something to fear or something to embrace.
I clenched my fists, feeling the unnatural strength coursing through me. No longer just flesh and bone. No longer just V.
"Zane," Mercier had said. The name still echoed in my mind, a symbol of what I had lost and what they had turned me into.
But Killiden... this material... it was a reminder that I was still me. Somewhere beneath the layers of this weapon, my mind remained sharp. My will remained intact. I wasn't a puppet, not yet.
And one day, I would use that strength—both mental and physical—to tear down the system that had tried to bend me to its will.
For now, though, I had to survive.
The training started almost immediately after they finished the transformation. They didn't give me a moment to breathe, didn't even bother to let me get used to the new body, the new strength. It was as if they were determined to break me, to test how far they could push the newly forged Zane before the cracks started to show.
I was strapped into a harness, hooked up to a system of wires and restraints, forcing me into a standing position. The room was sterile—bright white walls, gleaming floors, and an air of cold efficiency that made it feel less like a training facility and more like a lab experiment.
Miller, standing on the observation platform above, was the first to speak.
"Zane," he said, the name still feeling foreign, even after everything they'd done to me. "You've been upgraded. Enhanced. Now let's see if the system works."
I didn't respond. I wasn't sure what was expected of me yet, but I knew one thing: they were going to test me until I broke, or until I proved myself to be the monster they'd created. Either way, I wasn't going to let them control me.
The first test was a simple one—an obstacle course. But of course, nothing was simple about it. It was a maze of walls, traps, and combat dummies that sprang to life the moment I took a step forward. The floor beneath me shifted, and walls shot up, closing in on me like jaws of a predator.
I reacted instinctively, muscles rippling beneath my skin, the new strength coursing through me. I was faster, more agile than before, and I tore through the course with ease. The dummies that jumped out to challenge me weren't much of a problem either—my limbs moved with precision, my reflexes razor-sharp.
"Impressive," Miller's voice echoed through the intercom, though there was no emotion behind it. He was already expecting me to succeed. "But we're just getting started."
He flicked a switch, and suddenly, the floor beneath me gave way, sending me plunging into a pit of sorts, where I landed with a heavy thud. My legs barely bent on impact, absorbing the shock effortlessly. As I stood up, a new set of challenges awaited me—live targets.
Men in black suits, armed with everything from tasers to energy rifles, filed into the room. Their eyes were cold, calculating. They weren't here to train me; they were here to see how long I could survive under real pressure.
Without warning, they fired.
The first shot grazed my side, but I barely felt it. The new Killiden skin was resistant, the energy the shots carried barely more than an irritant. But that didn't stop the barrage. I dodged, moving with an unnatural speed as they closed in. My body was no longer my own, but it didn't matter. Every movement, every instinct, was now an extension of the force they'd made me.
One of the attackers lunged at me with a blade, but I swatted him aside, sending him crashing into the wall with a sickening thud. The others hesitated for a split second. But that was all I needed.
I closed the distance with them in an instant, tearing through their defenses with ruthless efficiency. By the time the last man crumpled to the floor, barely conscious, the room was silent except for the hum of the equipment monitoring my vitals.
Miller's voice came through the speaker again, quieter this time, as if this success didn't matter as much as the failures would.
"Good. But not good enough."
His words cut deeper than they should have. I could feel the anger building, a storm stirring inside me. They had done this to me, but they were still underestimating what they had created.
I was more than a weapon. I was something they couldn't control. And one day, they'd see that.
But for now, I was trapped in their game.
I woke up with a sharp headache, my vision blurry, and my body aching. The last thing I remembered was being overwhelmed, something about a fight, and then nothing. I shook my head, trying to focus, but the world was spinning around me.
The cold concrete beneath me was unforgiving, and I could feel the pressure of restraints on my wrists. I struggled against them, but the pain in my body reminded me that whatever they did to me wasn't temporary—it was permanent. I was no longer the man I used to be. I was Zane.
"Get up," a voice commanded, cold and detached.
It took me a moment to register where I was. The room was dim, the faint sound of dripping water echoed somewhere in the distance. And then I saw her.
Scarlett.
She was standing there, arms outstretched, held at gunpoint by Mercier, his finger on the trigger. A chill ran down my spine as I realized what was happening.
"Don't!" I shouted, but the words barely escaped my throat.
Mercier's smile was sickening as he looked down at me. "So, the great Zane finally wakes up," he sneered. "Let's see how you handle watching your precious Scarlett die."
I tried to move, but my body felt sluggish. The transformation, the endless training, everything they did to me—it had drained me more than I wanted to admit.
I couldn't let them do this. Not to Scarlett. Not to Lucy, who was somewhere in the background, her body standing frozen like an empty shell. They'd taken her too, just like they'd taken me.
Mercier's finger tightened on the trigger.
Bang.
Scarlett's body jerked violently as the bullet struck, but instead of collapsing, she remained standing. It wasn't blood that spilled from the wound—it was something else, something unnatural. Scarlett's body flickered for a moment, like a hologram trying to hold itself together. And then, to my horror, I realized what had happened.
Scarlett wasn't Scarlett anymore. She was just another weapon.
Before I could react, something flashed in front of me. Lucy.
She was standing there now, her eyes wide and devoid of recognition. She was no longer the shy, uncertain woman I once knew. She was something else entirely. Something monstrous. Her body had been transformed into the same kind of weapon I had become—without the mind to control it.
"Lucy…" I whispered, my heart sinking.
I didn't have time to process what was happening before Lucy lunged at me.
I barely had time to react as she moved with the same speed and strength that I had been trained to use. Her fists collided with my chest, sending me crashing into the wall. The force of the blow rattled my body, and I could feel the cracks in my ribs, but I couldn't let her win.
"Lucy, it's me!" I yelled, my voice barely carrying over the sound of the combat. But there was no recognition in her eyes, no sign of the woman I once knew. She was gone, replaced by the soulless weapon Mercier had made of her.
I fought back, trying to hold her off, but the power inside me, the same power that had been forced into my own body, felt too familiar. Too dangerous. It was like fighting myself.
And that was exactly what I was doing.
Behind me, Mercier watched with a twisted satisfaction, his gun still pointed at Scarlett, though I could tell from the way his lips curled that he was enjoying this far too much.
"You see, Zane," Mercier said, his voice cold and casual, as though this was all just a game to him, "This is the power I control. Your friends? They're nothing. Just tools to be used. You're nothing but a puppet, and all I've done is pull the strings."
"Shut up," I growled, trying to break free from Lucy's relentless assault.
But it wasn't enough. The strength I had wasn't enough to stop her. The pain from the previous training sessions, the exhaustion, everything built up and weighed me down.
I was about to break.
And then, there was a sharp, unfamiliar sound—a thud, followed by a low groan of pain.
I turned just in time to see Scarlett, the weapon that was once her, drop to the floor, the gun slipping from her hand. It wasn't a mercy shot. It was an opportunity.
Before I could take advantage of it, I heard the sound of a second gunshot—louder, closer.
This time, it was aimed at me.
I could feel the heat of the bullet as it grazed past my ear, narrowly missing. They were escalating things now. And I realized that if I didn't act soon, all of us were doomed.
But I wasn't going to go down like this. Not again. Not while I still had control over whatever was left of me.
I reached for the edge of the table next to me, grabbing a jagged piece of metal. It wasn't much, but it was enough to buy me some time. I lashed out at Lucy, using every ounce of strength I had left.
Her body jerked back, but I could see her expression shift. Something… just a flicker of recognition.
That was all I needed.
"Lucy, listen to me!" I screamed, desperately trying to make contact.
Her eyes flickered again. There was a hesitation.
But before I could capitalize on the moment, Miller stepped forward however, this wasn't Miller, it was Mercier. His presence filling the room with an undeniable weight.
"Enough," Mercier said, his voice cold and emotionless. "This has gone on long enough. Time to finish it, Zane."
I gritted my teeth and stood my ground. I wasn't going to let them break me. Not now. Not after everything I'd been through.
"Bring it on," I whispered, ready for whatever came next.