Chapter 67: Cracks in the Foundation
Naomi Wells sat at her desk, fingers hovering over the keyboard. The dim glow of her tablet’s screen illuminated her face as she scrolled through the I.O. file. Her breath was shallow, heart pounding in her chest as she debated how much further she should go.
She had always known the Academy crossed lines. You couldn’t work at a place like this without recognizing the ethical boundaries they ignored in pursuit of knowledge. But these files—this was something else.
Isabella Ortega.
Naomi clicked through another page, her eyes narrowing as the records unfolded before her. Isabella had been a powerful metahuman, a force to be reckoned with. That much Naomi already knew from her public knowledge. But the data here… the Academy had pushed her far beyond what should have been possible. Test after test. Pushing her body to the limits.
Forcing her to endure levels of pain and stress that would have broken anyone else. Naomi’s breath caught as she read about Test 47-3, an experiment involving the total suppression of Isabella’s flame powers using high-intensity electrical shocks—designed to see how long she could hold out without unleashing her full abilities. The goal had been to force a reaction, to see if Isabella’s limits were psychological or physical. The results had been devastating.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
The account detailed the torturous ordeal in cold, scientific terms. The reading felt clinical, detached—so different from the reality of what Isabella had endured. Naomi’s stomach churned as she read the lines: Subject exhibited extreme resistance to pain stimuli but showed signs of cognitive disassociation after 17 minutes. At minute 21, subject’s vital signs began to falter…
She forced herself to keep reading, but as the minutes stretched, it became harder to breathe. Naomi’s hands trembled. She reached the final notes, where Isabella had collapsed into unconsciousness. Yet, instead of ending the test, the scientists had kept pushing her, probing her unconscious mind with further invasive procedures.
They wanted everything. Every last fragment of power.
Naomi swallowed hard, her throat dry. She could picture the scene too vividly in her mind—Isabella strapped down, motionless, as the scientists watched her every reaction, heartbeats turning into cold data points.
And for what?
The worst part of all this however was what came next, as Naomi continued to read the file on Isabella Ortega she visibly recoiled.
Enough.
Naomi pushed the tablet away, her hands covering her face as she exhaled shakily. She hadn’t even reached the end of the file, but she couldn’t do it. Not today. Not after reading what they had done.
For the first time in years, Naomi felt genuinely disgusted by her own work. It wasn’t just the tests themselves—it was everything… the sterile way they documented the suffering. The way the people here had become experiments, their humanity erased. And she was part of it. She had contributed to this system, whether she wanted to admit it or not.
Her chest tightened as she glanced back at the screen, but she couldn’t bring herself to look again. Not tonight.
In the silence of the lab, Naomi let herself fall back in her chair, staring blankly at the ceiling. Her mind spun with questions. With guilt.
What are we truly doing here…
The question echoed in her head, unanswered.
For now, though, she knew she couldn’t keep reading. There were some things even she didn’t want to face.