In the shadowed confines of a laboratory that had surely seen better days, a young boy, no more than eight, sat bound to a reclining phlebotomy chair. The stark light from two oversized surgical lamps cast an unforgiving glow on his worn hospital gown and the tangle of wires monitoring his vitals.
His gaze, sharp with skepticism, fell upon the man before him—sitting in front of a bank of computer screens, fingers dancing across a mechanical keyboard.
"So, um... you're an actual scientist, right?" the boy's question cut through the hums and beeps of outdated machinery.
"Why do you ask?" The man's voice, tinged with amusement, did little to reassure. He was a figure obscured by the glare of the monitors, his messy hair, unkempt beard and light moustache as disheveled as the room they occupied.
"I've... heard that scientists earn a lot, but... the condition of your lab isn't looking good. It's giving off more of a junkyard vibe," the boy observed, eyeing the cluttered space with discerning eyes. "Like a dump where Evergarden abandons all its ancient equipment." The room was filled with decrepit electronic relics, their condition so dire they looked ready to combust upon use.
The boy offered an earnest piece of advice. "Invest in some decent equipment, Old Man. Let these relics rest."
"Hahaha~" The man's laughter, a brief, merry sound, quickly faded into a heavy sigh. "I wish I could," he confessed, his tone dropping dead and flat.
"You wish?"
"Funds are tight. And the organization… well, thanks to a certain someone, it's almost gone for good." The boy awkwardly turned his face to the side. "But even before that, they always used to send us a mechanic who only caused more problems than he fixed. I honestly wonder how the hell he even became an electronic engineer with that nut-sized brain rattling around in his empty skull." The man continued to vent the frustrations he had held inside for so long.
"But aren't you one of... well, didn't you use to be one of Evergarden's top figures? Wasn't your salary enough for new equipment? You must at least have some savings left, no?" the boy inquired, his confusion evident.
"Ah, savings?" The man paused, a dramatic silence hanging in the air before he admitted, "I spent it all," his carefree tone completely belying the gravity of the situation.
Crack.
The boy's annoyance was palpable, a vein throbbing visibly on his forehead. "You're kidding, right?"
"No."
"..." The boy was left with no words to argue back. "My mother always used to say not to spend recklessly and save for a better tomorrow." He looked at the man frantically running his hands over the keyboard. "I can't believe she was actually raised by some shady guy like you." A hint of sadness and remorse gleamed in his moist eyes.
Noticing the shift in the atmosphere, the man gasped dramatically. "How mean! There are a ton of wonderful phrases to describe my youthful, handsome appearance, and you could only think of shady?"
"No. There is one more."
"Oh, really? What is it?"
"Stinky Old Fish."
Click. The man's fingers paused for a second before he burst into a hearty laugh. "Puhahahahaha! Oh, boy! That was a good one." He shook his head, his fingers returning to punch the keys.
Listening to the Old Fish's laughter, a small, genuine smile stretched over the boy's little face. "A good, Stinky Old Fish," he muttered, almost inaudible. He glanced around at the scattered junk. "At least do some cleaning and throw out the trash."
"Yeah, yeah, will do when there's time," the man replied, noncommittal.
With a final tap on the 'Enter' key—Click.
Beep— Beep—
Grr— Grr—
Suddenly, the room was filled with the heavy groans of machinery. The boy eyed the shuddering device warily. "You sure it won't explode?"
"Relax, I just serviced it. This child is in top shape," the man assured.
"…Now that's even more concerning."
Fush—
As the machine stilled, a containment hatch opened with a sharp, pressurized hiss, releasing a plume of cold, synthetic vapor. From within emerged a metallic cradle holding a single glass vial of a strangely opalescent, viscous fluid.
Collecting the tube, the man prepared a daunting, pistol-grip syringe and approached the obediently seated boy.
With a sudden flicker of absolute terror in his young eyes at the sheer size of the needle, the boy pressed his back hard against the chair. "O-old Man, is this really necessary?"
"It is indeed," the man replied without batting an eye, bringing the needle into the light.
"H-hey, l-listen! I-i apologize, o-okay? Y-you are not s-shady! S-so, l-let's do this i-in a m-more g-gentle a-and peaceful way, y-yeah?"
"Too late." He lightly pressed the pressure trigger, making a thin stream of liquid squirt from the tip.
"Hey, n-no! M-mother used to s-say i-it's never t-too late! L-let's t-talk about this a-again, O-old Man—n-no, the most h-handsome man I've ever met! H-have I ever told you t-that you look like a s-super s-s-s-s-s-stunning model?"
"Oh, yeah? Then why did you put so many 's' in stunning?" Unfazed by the boy's desperate pleas, the man stepped forward, the bright surgical lights washing over his face like a white silk veil.
"A-aaaaaa!! You S-stinky Old Fish! Let go of me! You vile monster! Stinky, stinky, stinky, rotting fish! Keep that horse needle away! I don't want it! I don't want it! Aaaaaa!!!" Throwing away his unnatural mask of maturity, the genius facade finally cracked, and the kid started to cry like a real, terrified eight-year-old.
"..." Looking down at the crying boy, the man let out a tired sigh. Putting the pistol-syringe on the nearby metal tray, his expression softened. "Kiddo, do you know what the most dangerous thing in the world is?" he asked with a warm smile.
"Aaaaa—h-huh?" Finding the needle no longer near him, the boy sniffled. "W-what's with this sudden random question?"
"Where did I put the syringe agai—"
"Aaah, wait! Wait! Let me think! Let Me Think!"
Pondering hard over the question to buy himself time, he made a cautious guess. "…Mosquitoes?"
"No, more dangerous than that," the man denied, gently shaking his head at each of the boy's subsequent guesses.
"An emu?"
"No."
"Box Jelly Fish?"
"No."
"Poison?"
"No."
"Venom?"
"No."
"Elephant?"
"Nope."
"Tiger?"
"Nuh-uh."
"Aliens?"
"Wrong."
"People? Society?"
"Wrong again."
Frustrated, the boy finally resigned and demanded, "Then tell me, what is it?"
The man chuckled, finding the boy's annoyance endearing, though his laughter was a fleeting light in the darkness. He leaned in, taking the syringe back in hand and making a final, calculated adjustment to the pressure dial, his voice dropping to a somber whisper. "Ignorance, my boy. Ignorance."
"Ignorance? Really?" the boy asked with visible skepticism.
Keeping an eye on the kid's vitals, the man continued, his low timbre resonating within the cold walls of the lab. "The arrogance of a man who walks through life believing he knows everything. That blind spot is exactly what we are fighting against."
He prepared an alcohol swab. "Like you guessed, there are countless dangers in this world, each unique to the eyes that perceive them. But the greatest peril for us, Karan, is unbridled power. Power that you wield without understanding."
Rolling up the left sleeve of the boy's hospital gown, the man continued. "Look, Karan. Your mother has passed onto you a gift—an extraordinary one. And the force within it is both magnificent and terrifying. Yet, you know nothing about it. Its nature, its use, how to control it, the catastrophic dangers it could cause... nothing."
He flicked the boy's forearm a few times until a vein surfaced, then swiped the area with the cold swab.
"These nano-bots," he wiped the syringe needle clean, "are the key I—we—prepared to help you tame the tempest inside you. We have to put restrictions on these powers before they destroy you, and everyone around you."
Raising the heavy syringe, he brought it hovering just above the boy's arm. "Your mother... She saved billions of lives. People who were nothing to her, without asking for a single thing in return. Sometimes, I think she was too good for this rotting world."
He paused for a fraction of a second before pushing forward, piercing the boy's soft skin and inserting the sharp needle directly into the vein.
"Ouch!" Karan winced as the metal sank deep into his arm.
"As her son, I know you wouldn't want to destroy those lives in your ignorance. Nor would I, knowing I have the ability to stop this wonderful gift from turning into a bloodthirsty curse."
The scientist pressed the trigger. The substance coursed into his veins like a stream of incandescent, white fire. "Within these microscopic sentinels lies a synthesized cellular isolate of your mother's blood," he revealed softly.
"Arrgghh…" With a low, guttural growl, Karan's features violently contorted, hinting at a monstrous entity frantically clawing its way out from within his subconscious.
"The same blood that gave new lives to those who could only dream of death, or were about to embrace it with open arms. I can only hope that 'Project-01' will be enough to anchor you," the scientist murmured, watching the vital monitors suddenly spike high and red.
"Gaarrhhh…" Karan's voice grew deeper, hoarse and entirely unnatural. He started thrashing violently against the restraints, his small frame fighting a losing battle to suppress the catastrophic surge of otherworldly power awakening inside him.
The man acted quickly, reaching to flip a heavy switch on the console. But before he could execute the action, a small, trembling hand grabbed the hem of his lab coat.
"Hm?" The man turned to face him.
"W-will—Aarggh..." Karan tried to speak, but the sheer agony made it nearly impossible to form coherent words. "Hah! Kuarghh...! Hah! Hah!" Amidst the violent seizures and horrifying body contortions, he forced his mutating, bi-colored eyes open—one bleeding crimson, the other a depthless violet—amidst the horrific shifting of his facial bones, and finally spoke.
"W-will we really b-be able to find m-my mother, O-old Man?"
Looking down at the complex web of exhaustion, worry, and absolute terror etched into the boy's unnatural, contorting face, the man smiled warmly, gently resting a hand on Karan's head.
"We will. I'll make sure of it, right to the very end. Your mother trusted me amongst a massive horde of deceivers... why don't you try trusting me a little as well?"
Listening to the man's reply, a faint, reassured smile tugged at the corners of Karan's mouth, completely defying the excruciating pain invading his bones. "You silly Old Fish—Aarggh!"
Completing his previous action, the man pressed the button.
Click—
Grrrr—
The machine chimed with a deep vibration, slipping a highly calculated dosage of sedatives directly into the boy's nervous system. The heavy chemical wave forced the raging beast back down, lulling him into the depths.
Swap— Swap—
"Rest now, young one," the man whispered as he unbuckled the restraints. The surgical lights dimmed, leaving the boy to slumber in the quiet, heavy solitude of the lab, the steel door sealing shut behind the scientist with a final, echoing Click.
The sound echoed, stretching and distorting until it violently snapped into a deafening, blood-curdling roar.
Aaauuuuu!!!
The quiet, sterile memory shattered like stained glass. The cold air of the laboratory vanished, instantly replaced by the suffocating, gore-ridden atmosphere of the devil's cave.
Karan's eyes snapped open in the dark.
Inside the cavern, standing amidst the settling dust, he was no longer an eight-year-old boy bound to a chair.
"Project-01, Protocol 26," he intoned, his voice cutting through the dark.
'Protocol 26… Voice pattern matched… User Karan, verified…' A mechanical voice, devoid of emotion, echoed strictly within his head.
"Disengage the Primary Limiter," Karan commanded, his presence compelling the darkness itself to obey.
'Biometric telemetry and neural oscillations stable. Cardiovascular stress within acceptable parameters. Request accepted. Granting access. Project-01 Protocol 26, disengaging the Primary Limiter. Overall Output—15%.'
Karan's eyes, a deep, predatory crimson, glowed fiercely amidst the shadows coiling around him like a living entity—a whisper of power and secrets kept in the dark.