The meeting room, a stark, cold chamber with walls painted in an unwelcoming shade of gray, was illuminated by the flickering glow of a wall-sized screen.
Seated around a circular table were eight generals, their stern faces betraying years of war-hardened experience.
Behind each general stood their assistants, clad in standard green uniforms, each holding a notepad and pen to record every significant detail.
The atmosphere was tense, the air heavy with the weight of a conversation that could alter the course of war.
On the screen, a live feed of Adam was displayed.
His image, seated alone in his steel confinement, seemed to radiate a quiet defiance that unsettled even the most seasoned among them.
General Core, seated at the head of the table, broke the silence. "So, General, how did the medical experiments go?"
General Core's lips tightened as he replied, "Every single experiment failed. We couldn't even collect a proper DNA sample."
A murmur spread across the room. One general leaned forward, his brows furrowed in disbelief. "You couldn't even get a DNA test? How is that possible?"
General Core exhaled sharply, his tone firm. "The subject's skin is more durable than anything we've encountered. He didn't just survive bullets—he withstood a tank attack. A tank, gentlemen."
The room went silent as the generals exchanged uneasy glances. Finally, one of them spoke. "So, General Core, what do you propose? Should we keep him contained, use him for more experiments, or... eliminate him?"
General Core chuckled dryly, a sound devoid of humor. "My esteemed colleagues, as I've stated before, neither money nor prestige holds as much importance as this war. Victory in this conflict is a matter of national pride. Imagine what we could achieve if this subject fought for us instead of against us. He could turn the tide of this war singlehandedly."
The room fell silent once again. Core continued, his voice steady but insistent. "From my psychological tests, I've concluded that this subject was designed to forget everything about his past life. If we use our reprogramming techniques, I can guarantee that he will emerge a patriot, ready to fight for our cause."
The other generals listened intently, their expressions a mix of intrigue and apprehension.
One of them, General Dyer, spoke up, his voice sharp. "Your plan is bold, Core, but if it backfires, you know what punishment awaits. Our king does not tolerate failure."
General Core met Dyer's gaze, unflinching. "I am well aware, General Dyer. But the potential reward outweighs the risk."
Dyer sighed heavily. "If you're so confident, I won't oppose you. Whatever resources you need from my department, consider them yours." With that, he stood, his assistant trailing behind him as he exited the room.
The remaining generals exchanged cautious glances. One of them finally said, "If Dyer supports your plan, then we will too. But remember, Core, the responsibility is yours alone. Success or failure, the consequences are yours to bear."
General Core leaned back in his chair, a sly smile playing on his lips. "I wouldn't have it any other way. If I take the blame for failure, I'll also claim the credit for success. Agreed?"
The room filled with uneasy laughter. One general muttered, "High risk, high reward. Do what you must, Core. And if you need additional help, don't hesitate to ask."
As the room cleared, Core remained seated. His assistant, Neel, approached him. Her jet-black hair was tied neatly into a bun, her dark eyes calm and composed.
Despite her petite stature, her presence exuded discipline. Clad in her immaculate green uniform, she stood at attention behind Core's chair.
"Neel," Kaur called, his voice softer but no less commanding.
"Yes, General?" she replied, stepping closer.
In an unsettling move, Core reached for her hand and pulled her into his lap. Neel showed no reaction, her face remaining impassive.
Core's hand moved across her figure, his tone smug. "If this project succeeds, every one of those generals will be eating out of my hand."
As his hand moved further, the scene shifted abruptly.
---
Adam sat in a sterile steel room. The walls, floor, ceiling—every surface was metallic, reflecting the faint, cold light that barely illuminated the space.
Even the chair he sat on was welded to the floor, offering no chance of escape. Hunger gnawed at his stomach, a sharp reminder of how long he had been left without food.
He leaned back, exhaling deeply, and closed his eyes. What's their plan? Starve me to death? Or is this another twisted test? He tried to calm the growing frustration in his chest.
A faint sound broke through the silence, surprising him. He opened his eyes, puzzled.
The room was supposed to be soundproof, yet he could hear muffled voices. Concentrating, Adam closed his eyes again, focusing on the faint vibrations.
His enhanced senses picked up snippets of a conversation outside.
"General Core ordered us not to give the subject any food," a soldier said, his tone almost casual.
Another voice responded, hesitant. "But... he's still human, right? How long are we supposed to keep this up?"
"Until further orders. Don't question it."
Adam's eyes snapped open. His suspicions were confirmed. They're not planning to feed me.
The hunger twisted in his stomach, but anger burned brighter. Closing his eyes again, he listened further.
"Captain," another soldier began, "we've taken Falmo City on the eastern border, but they need reinforcements. General Core is delaying deployment."
The captain sighed. "I'd send reinforcements if it were up to me. But questioning Core is suicide. Let it go."
Adam clenched his fists. Falmo City? Reinforcements? What are they doing?
His mind wandered to the events in the lab. The moment when rage had surged through him, unlocking a power he didn't fully understand.
Maybe... I can do it again.
Adam leaned back, closing his eyes tightly. He focused on the memory of General Core's face, the smug expression that had ignited his anger before. The more he thought about it, the angrier he became.
A strange pressure filled the room, heavy and oppressive. The steel walls seemed to groan under the strain.
Adam's breathing quickened as he visualized Core, his frustration boiling over into pure rage.
Suddenly, a sharp cracking sound echoed. Adam's eyes shot open.
The wooden table in front of him had splintered, a deep crack running along its surface.
One of its legs buckled under the invisible force.
Adam stared at the damage, a mix of surprise and satisfaction coursing through him.
So, this power isn't gone. It's just... waiting.
The chapter ends with Adam sitting in the silent, oppressive room, his mind now racing with possibilities.