"Sometimes you find happiness in something and pour all your effort into preserving it. But perhaps that happiness is only temporary. And how do you know? You find true happiness only when it's perhaps too late."
Harten cut through the philosophical thread. "What do you mean, 'happiness doesn't last'?"
"Huh?" Joe replied with a melancholy smile. "Aren't you bored yet with the past of a madman like me?"
"Joe, that doesn't matter to me, even if it was all wrong. But those people were evil, weren't they? Heh... I thought so."
"What do you mean, 'you thought so'?" Harten pressed.
"I'll clarify," Joe began. "I was truly happy with Hope and my wife. Her name was Catherine. She was etched in my mind as 'Number 5,' but her name was Catherine. She was kind yet formidable. The world forced a gentle girl to become hardened; she was coerced into it. I never wanted to ask about her past, fearing I'd disturb her—until one day I saw her weeping. I went to her, and she asked: 'Do you really love me?' I told her: 'If I didn't, why would I have abandoned my work there?'"
"You never asked why I was there?" Catherine asked.
"Catherine, I didn't mean to. I was afraid of triggering agonizing memories. You know, discussing a past filled with suffering can trigger episodes due to the mental and psychological trauma."
Catherine shouted at the top of her lungs: "Joe! Do you think I'm weak? I suffered more than anyone else there! Do you think this would break me?"
"I'm sorry, Catherine, I didn't—"
Tears fell from Joe—the man everyone believed was a stone incapable of weeping. "Why... why wasn't I up to the task? I wasn't brave enough..."
Catherine embraced her husband. "Shh... the husband I know had ambition; he didn't cry."
"Fine," Joe promised. "I won't ever cry again."
"Good. Are you ready to know who I really am?"
"Yes," Joe replied. "I'm ready."
"My name is Catherine Revnadum. My father was a scientist like you, but his methods were more advanced. He envisioned creating something outside the human body—something like white blood cells, the immune system, and blood—merging them into something far more evolved. Something that could heal people who had lost limbs. It took the form of a microchip inserted into the body, which would multiply using dead cells until it could heal an injury in seconds. If an arm were severed, it would regenerate in moments."
"But how?" Joe asked. "When I found you, you had no teeth, no hair, no nails?"
"As I said, it can be controlled. I deactivated it temporarily so they wouldn't conduct studies on me. And Joe... don't interrupt me again."
"Right."
"My father didn't create this for profit; he created it to help people. He knew that if he released it to the market, the supply would be seized by the black market, militaries, or governments. And if he gave it to the needy, they would be hunted down and the chip forcibly extracted, which would kill them. So, he hid the chips after producing only three. One of them is with me."
"Then why didn't they just kill you and take the one you have?"
"Because they want something far more valuable than the chips. They want the blueprints and the manufacturing process. Do they think my father was that naive? He anticipated this, so he programmed a protocol: if the user dies, the chip dies and self-destructs with surgical precision. They offered my father billions, but he refused. Eventually, he received an offer from an anonymous source—it was more of a threat than an offer. My father rejected it and defied the threat. Hours later, the Vanguard squad raided us. They killed my father, captured me, and tortured me to reveal the location of the chips. I refused... until they lost hope of ever finding the blueprints."
"Hahaha! We haven't lost hope just yet!"
Joe turned to see the Vanguard Leader sitting in the shadows. He stepped forward and said: "I've grown tired of you, Catherine. So I thought to myself: What do I do with a stubborn soul who doesn't care about her own death? Ah... yes, I must strike at someone dear to her! But where would I find someone dear to a girl with a heart of stone like yours, Catherine? Everyone you loved was already dead! So I asked myself: What now?"
The sound of the Vanguard leader's footsteps drew closer. He opened the refrigerator, searching. "Oh, how about I create someone for you to love? But how? How could I make that possible for a girl with a heart of stone? Until you appeared, Joe! And I said: This is my chance! Some opposed me, but I pushed through, and here I am to reap the rewards."
He pulled his head out of the fridge, holding a carrot. The crunch was audible. "Damn it!" Joe barked. "We had an agreement that I would produce the batches on the condition that you stay away from my home!"
A gunshot. The clatter of a casing. The sound of dripping blood.
"Agggh! My leg! Damn it!" Joe screamed.
"Shut your mouth!" the leader snapped.
Catherine tried to attack, but he seized Joe and pressed the weapon to his head. Catherine hesitated.
"Run, Catherine!" Joe shouted. "Take Hope with you!"
"You mean that sweet little boy?" the leader smirked. "Heh, I've left him a little explosive gift!"
"You bald bastard!" Joe yelled.
"Damn, why bring up a sensitive subject now?" the leader grumbled.
"What do you want?" Catherine asked. "The blueprints or the chips?"
"Ho ho! Why didn't I do this sooner? Fine, I want both!"
"Damn it, Catherine! Save Hope and run!" Joe cried.
"Shut up! Close your mouth! Don't speak!" She turned to the leader. "You bald freak! Will you guarantee the lives of both my child and Joe?"
"I'm a man who doesn't keep his promises," the leader laughed. "But you don't have a choice."
Catherine pulled out a memory drive. "Everything you want is here, you bald freak."
"Damn! It was right in front of us the whole time. Number 3, now!"
The sound of shattering glass and a whistling blade filled the air. Catherine dodged and delivered a counter-strike to Number 3. The sound of an impact and a wall crumbling followed. Catherine threw Number 3 back.
Number 3 stood up, leaning against the wall, blood streaming from his head. He laughed. "Heh... damn it, damn it!" It was the first time he had spoken. He had always been "Number 2" in rank, and he wanted to prove himself to Joe because Joe was like a father to him.
"Damn it! Why? Why?!" Number 3 screamed. "This was because of you! You took Joe from us! Joe belonged to all of us; he was the only one who cared—me, 4, 1, and 2. You're so selfish, Number 5! I will kill you and take Joe back!"
Number 3's eyes were bloodshot with rage. Joe lay injured and helpless, while the Vanguard leader laughed. And little Hope lay fast asleep, with a bomb ticking beneath him.
"Damn it..." Joe muttered.
To be continued...