They watched me as I watched them.But nobody said anything.
Silence hung in the air like a smothering fog. The tension wasn't just emotional—it pulsed under our skin, humming in our veins like the side effects of the injection.
At last, I lay down again. Not to sleep. Just to forget.Pain, hunger, fear—they faded more easily when you refused to think.Somewhere in that stillness, sleep found me.
The lights were out.Night, I supposed.
I awoke.
Number 3 wept softly in the corner, the sound barely audible over the humming walls.Number 1 groaned in his sleep, twitching with some remembered agony.Number 2 lay still—too still—his chest rising and falling with unsettling calm, as if none of this affected him.
Two days passed.We measured them by the lights: one cycle on, one off. No food. No voices. No answers. Only the cold white walls and the weight of anticipation.
Elsewhere, hidden beneath layers of reinforced concrete and electronic countermeasures, a high-level conference unfolded inside an underground facility.
A group of men—doctors in white coats, officers in black uniforms—sat in silence around a long metal table. Their expressions were tight, unreadable. At the head of the room, a large projector screen blinked to life with a soft bzzt.
An assistant, standing to one side with a tablet in hand, began to speak.
"We have brought in 100,000 children.10,000 per facility.Survival rates after MMS Trial Phase One are as follows:"
Facility 1: 45% survived
Facility 2: 32% survived
Facility 3: 44% survived
Facility 4: 53% survived
Facility 5: 47% survived
Facility 6: 41% survived
Facility 7: 44% survived
Facility 8: 37% survived
Facility 9: 35% survived
Facility 10: 42% survived
The assistant stepped back.
From the side of the room, a man in a crisp white uniform walked to the center. His presence drew immediate attention. Sharp eyes, military posture, and the insignia of command on his chest.
"We are gathered here," he began, "to prepare the next phase of the MMS Operator Project."
The words cut through the tension. A hushed focus fell over the room.
"Our goal is to develop a high number of Dominus and Ascendant-rank operators. If even one of them becomes an Apex-level Operator…"He paused, letting the weight of that possibility settle.
Eyes glimmered. Longing. Ambition. Pride.An Apex Operator. The kind of power that could turn the Federation into an uncontested force in the world.
He continued.
"Of course, we are still in the early stages. The MMS compound is not yet fully understood. It must be studied further—its neural restructuring, physical amplification, and psychological volatility. But the potential is undeniable."
He tapped his tablet.
Across the table, every facility leader received the updated strategic files. The hum of encrypted transmissions briefly echoed through the room.
"Based on data gathered so far," the man said, "the drug demands two critical conditions: a resilient body, and a stable mind. However, side effects include hallucinations, personality fractures, and in rare cases, total mental disintegration."
He looked up.
"Therefore, our best option is early integration. The younger the subject, the more adaptable the brain and nervous system. If we can begin controlled dosages from early childhood, we may mitigate long-term side effects and produce far more stable operators."
A murmur rippled through the room.
He closed his tablet.
"Now, we proceed to Phase Two. You all have your orders. This project... will define our future."