The old dog lunged at Zack, his bloodshot eyes filled with madness. He had one thought driving him—kill Zack and take everything he had. But before he could get close, his delusions were cut short. Thin, gleaming spider threads shot down from the wall above, wrapping tightly around his hands and feet.
"Argh! What the hell?!" he screamed, thrashing violently. His sheer strength was staggering—so much so that the Web shooter launchers affixed to the wall strained against his efforts. In his wild struggle, he even managed to tear chunks of concrete loose.
Yet before he could completely free himself, Zack sighed, waving a hand dismissively. "Enough. Take him down. Break his limbs."
At his command, the spiders swarmed in, their alloy-steel claws gleaming under the dim lab lights. They moved, knocking the old dog to the ground. In seconds, their sharp claws pierced through the joints of his hands and feet. "Ahhh!" The old dog let out an agonized scream as the strength that had filled him moments ago drained away. He felt like a balloon being punctured, his overwhelming sense of power deflating into despair.
"Throw him into containment for now," Zack ordered coldly, his tone devoid of emotion. "We'll deal with him after the tests are complete."
Throughout it all, Zack's expression remained calm, almost bored. If anything, he seemed amused. "Super Serum, huh?" he muttered. "Without proper skills, it doesn't make you a super soldier. It just makes you... a super idiot."
Zack turned his attention to the last machine in the lab. Inside was Subject No. 3, standing completely still, like a lifeless wooden statue. "All vitals are normal," Zack muttered, scanning the monitor. "But his brain activity… damaged beyond repair." His brows furrowed. It was clear the serum—enhanced with the Zeta virus—had failed to restore cognitive function. "Guess he's just another failure."
He stepped closer to the machine, preparing to write off the subject when something unexpected happened. Subject No. 3 moved. Zack's eyes narrowed. "Hmm?"
The subject's movements were minimal but deliberate. Zack watched carefully, then gave a test command. "Lift your right arm." Without hesitation, Subject No. 3 wrenched his arm free from the metal restraints. The force of his movements was so strong that the thick straps snapped like paper. But once his arm was free, he returned to his motionless state.
"What the…?" Zack muttered, his usual calm shaken. He conducted a series of tests, barking simple commands. Each time, Subject No. 3 followed his orders flawlessly but without a shred of self-awareness. Finally, Zack pieced it together. "He's responsive to verbal commands but completely devoid of recognition or independent thought. He'll obey anyone who gives him an order."
His face darkened. This was both a breakthrough and a problem. "Ego," Zack called out. "What are the chances we can control him by implanting a chip?"
Ego, the AI assistant, responded promptly. "Sir, current data suggests a 90% feasibility rate."
"And the other 10%?" Zack asked grimly.
"There is a risk," Ego explained, "due to the presence of the Zeta virus in his system. While his condition appears stable now, the virus's long-term effects remain unpredictable."
Zack let out a frustrated sigh. "Understood. We can't afford to take chances. Erase him."
Before carrying out the execution, he turned back to the machine. "Inject him with Serum No. 113 first. Record the formula and name it... Fearless Warrior Serum."
Once the serum was injected, Zack gave Subject No. 3 one final command: "Return to containment." Subject No. 3 obeyed immediately, walking to an empty cell without a moment of hesitation.
"Bring in the other three subjects," Zack ordered, his tone cold as ice. "Let's test Serum No. 101 next. Run multiple trials. A single success doesn't mean anything."
The spiders dragged the unconscious test subjects into the injection chambers, strapping them down. Zack pressed the injection button, followed by the ray activation. Bright light flooded the lab. "AAAAH!" The subjects' screams filled the space, echoing off the sterile walls. The sound was piercing, but Zack remained unfazed.
Outside, the sun shone brightly, and a gentle breeze rustled the trees. The world carried on, oblivious to the horrors unfolding in Zack's underground lab. Sophia and the others had no idea what Zack was doing, locked away in this dark, foreboding building every day. Erza had tried sneaking in out of curiosity but was stopped at the entrance—access denied.
Back in the lab, Zack checked the data on the screen. The three test subjects had survived the procedure. Their vitals were stable, and their physical data showed no abnormalities.
"Success." A rare smile crept onto Zack's face. After days of grueling work, he had finally perfected the Super Serum.
"Open the chambers," he ordered, his excitement tempered by caution. "Prepare cleanup protocols."
The war machine and five spiders moved into position, their weapons trained on the three chambers as the doors hissed open. Inside stood three hulking figures, their bodies brimming with raw power. Before Zack could say anything further, a hoarse voice rang out from the corner of the room. "Quick! Kill him! All of you, together!" It was the old dog, his broken limbs sprawled pathetically, yet his hatred undiminished.
Zack's smile vanished. "Idiot," he muttered. "Ego, activate suppression protocols."
The room buzzed with tension as Zack prepared to face the fallout of his latest experiments.
The three people tied to the machine finally noticed the gravity of their situation. Panic set in, and they began struggling furiously, their restraints creaking under the strain. "Fire!" Zack's cold voice cut through the tension like a blade.
Before they could attempt an escape, a hail of gunfire erupted.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The sound was deafening, and in mere moments, the three were riddled with holes. Blood seeped from their bodies, pooling beneath them and staining the floor. Even the sturdy machine behind them was peppered with bullet holes from the armor-piercing rounds Zack had used. "Armor-piercing bullets still pack a punch," Zack muttered, his expression calm and detached as he observed the carnage. To him, it was simply another task completed. He had no emotional attachment to their deaths—just cold efficiency. He had even reserved these bullets to ensure their swift elimination.
"Take care of Subject No. 3 next," Zack ordered as the mechanical spider scuttled over to clean up the mess. A single gunshot followed moments later. Subject No. 3, devoid of self-awareness and hope, slumped lifelessly. He hadn't even flinched when the end came.
"That's one less problem," Zack murmured, turning toward another room. Inside, the old dog—a man with shattered arms and legs—lay sprawled on the floor like a broken doll. The only part of him still functional was his head, which he twisted to face Zack.
"Please, sir! Don't kill me!" the old dog pleaded desperately, his voice trembling. "I'm useful! I'm strong—I can help you in so many ways!"
Gone was the bravado he had shown earlier when encouraging others to attack Zack. Now, he groveled shamelessly, clinging to even the faintest chance of survival. Deep down, he knew his odds were slim, but fear kept him clinging to hope. Zack tilted his head, an amused smirk playing on his lips. "Old dog, huh? Gotta say, the name suits you. You really do grovel like one."