Chapter 72: The New Drug
In the sprawling underground laboratory of the infamous Dr. Machinist, the air was thick with tension. The dim lighting cast eerie shadows across the metallic walls, and the hum of machinery served as a constant reminder of the sinister experiments conducted within. Gathered in the heart of the lab were some of the most dangerous individuals alive: Akuma, Anna, Jason, Goji, and 150 members of the NGTNI. Today, they were here to witness the unveiling of Dr. Machinist’s latest creation—a drug simply called "Dust."
Dr. Machinist, his face partially obscured by a high-tech visor, stepped forward. His movements were deliberate, almost theatrical, as he addressed the assembled crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, what you are about to witness is the future of enhancement. Dust is designed to push the boundaries of human capability—to unlock potential previously thought impossible. Unfortunately, this batch... might still have some kinks to work out.”
A murmur ran through the crowd. Dr. Machinist’s reputation for volatile, often disastrous experiments was well-known, and yet none dared to question him openly. Standing to the side, Akuma folded his arms, his expression stoic but his sharp eyes betraying a hint of skepticism. Beside him, Anna’s cybernetic enhancements gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights as she watched intently. Jason’s normally cocky demeanor was replaced with visible unease, while Goji’s massive frame towered over everyone, his fists clenched in silent anticipation.
Dr. Machinist gestured to a young NGTNI grunt, who stepped forward hesitantly. The man’s face was pale, his fear poorly concealed. In his trembling hands, he held a small vial containing a shimmering, powdery substance. The room fell silent as all eyes turned to him.
“Don’t be shy now,” Dr. Machinist urged with a smile that was anything but reassuring. “Take it. Show everyone what you’re capable of.”
The grunt hesitated, his gaze darting toward Akuma as if seeking approval. Akuma gave a slight nod, his expression unreadable. Taking a deep breath, the grunt opened the vial and downed its contents in one swift motion.
At first, nothing happened. The crowd shifted uncomfortably, the tension mounting. Then, suddenly, the grunt’s body convulsed. His veins bulged, glowing faintly as the drug coursed through his system. His breathing became erratic, his eyes wild.
“It’s working,” Dr. Machinist muttered, his tone laced with excitement.
The grunt let out a guttural scream before leaping into the air with an unnatural force. Gasps echoed through the room as he soared nearly fifteen feet up, his limbs flailing uncontrollably. And then, in a moment that defied all logic and reason, he spread his legs into a full split mid-air and came crashing down—balls-first—onto the unforgiving concrete floor.
The sound was sickening. A sharp crack reverberated through the room, followed by an agonized scream that made even the most hardened NGTNI members wince. The grunt writhed on the ground, clutching his shattered pelvis, tears streaming down his face. Blood pooled beneath him as the crowd looked on in stunned silence.
Akuma’s stoic facade cracked for the first time in years. His eyes widened, and he visibly cringed, his mouth twitching as if he were suppressing the urge to look away.
“What... the hell...” he muttered under his breath.
Goji, usually unshakable, stood frozen, his mouth slightly agape. His massive hands twitched as if unsure whether to applaud or cover his eyes.
Jason, who had faced countless horrors in his time, was visibly trembling. His hands gripped the edges of his jacket, and beads of sweat formed on his brow. “Oh my god,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.
Anna’s reaction was no less dramatic. Her enhanced eyes widened to their fullest extent, and for a moment, she forgot to breathe. She took an involuntary step back, her metallic fingers flexing as if preparing for an unseen threat. “What kind of sick joke is this?” she hissed.
Dr. Machinist, however, remained unfazed. He approached the writhing grunt, crouching down to examine him with clinical detachment. Pulling out a clipboard, he began jotting down notes. “Fascinating,” he mused. “The drug appears to enhance physical capabilities temporarily, but the side effects... well, let’s just say there’s room for improvement.”
The crowd erupted into whispers, their reactions ranging from horrified to morbidly amused. One NGTNI member leaned toward another and muttered, “That guy’s never walking again.”
Another replied, “Walking? He’s lucky if he’ll ever sit down.”
Dr. Machinist straightened, turning back to the audience with a confident grin. “This is only the beginning, ladies and gentlemen. Dust has the potential to revolutionize combat, to turn ordinary soldiers into unstoppable forces. Today’s... demonstration may not have gone as planned, but every failure is a step toward perfection.”
Akuma stepped forward, his imposing presence silencing the murmurs. His voice was cold, carrying an edge of barely restrained anger. “Machinist. What exactly is the point of a drug that turns a soldier into... that?”
Dr. Machinist’s grin didn’t falter. “As I said, Lord Akuma, this is merely a prototype. The side effects are temporary—and avoidable with the right dosage. Imagine the possibilities once we refine it.”
Akuma’s eyes narrowed, his gaze boring into the doctor. “You have one month to fix this. If I see another... display like that, you’ll be the one testing your creations.”
The room fell silent once more, the weight of Akuma’s words hanging heavily in the air. Dr. Machinist nodded, a flicker of unease crossing his face. “Understood, my lord.”
Meanwhile, the unfortunate grunt was carried away on a makeshift stretcher, his moans of pain echoing down the corridor. The remaining NGTNI members avoided looking directly at him, their earlier bravado replaced with a newfound caution.
As the crowd began to disperse, Jason leaned toward Anna, his voice low and strained. “Remind me to never volunteer for anything Machinist comes up with.”
Anna nodded, still shaken. “You and me both.”
Goji, who had remained silent throughout, finally spoke. “That was the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Akuma glanced at him, his expression hard. “Dumb or not, it’s a reminder. Even the most brilliant minds can create disasters if left unchecked. We’ll give Machinist his chance, but if he fails... he’ll regret it.”
As the group left the lab, the image of the grunt’s catastrophic fall remained seared into their minds. The new drug, Dust, had proven to be as unpredictable as its creator, and its future—like the grunt’s—hung precariously in the balance.
Aftermath in the Lab
The scene shifted to Dr. Machinist’s laboratory, an industrial blend of sterile white walls and ominous mechanical apparatus. The air reeked of antiseptic and motor oil, an ironic juxtaposition for what was about to unfold. The unfortunate grunt, who had involuntarily become the test subject for Dust, lay sprawled on a metal table. His groans of agony echoed through the lab, a stark reminder of the horrors unleashed by the drug.
The grunt's lower half was a bruised and swollen mess, with several medical machines whirring and beeping as they worked overtime to stabilize him. His pelvis had sustained fractures from the landing, and his pride was in irreparable tatters.
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Dr. Machinist hovered over the table with a disturbingly calm demeanor, holding a clipboard as though jotting down observations about a lab rat. His wiry frame leaned closer to inspect the damage, his unblinking eyes gleaming with a mix of scientific curiosity and indifference.
"Interesting," Dr. Machinist murmured, scribbling furiously. "The pelvic bone absorbed the impact better than expected. The damage to the genital region, however, is extensive... perhaps irreversible."
The grunt whimpered, beads of sweat streaming down his face. "D-Doc... will I... will I ever—"
"Procreate? No." The doctor cut him off sharply, flipping to another page in his notes. "But don’t worry. You’ve provided invaluable data for the evolution of Dust. Truly, your sacrifice will be remembered in the annals of science because Your balls are destroyed beyond repair."
Across the room, Akuma and the other witnesses lingered in tense silence. Akuma, leaning against a wall with arms crossed, cast a sideways glance at the scene. His usual stoic expression faltered for a split second, his jaw tightening.
"Machinist," Akuma growled, his voice low and threatening, "you didn't mention this would turn him into a circus act before breaking him."
Dr. Machinist raised a brow but didn't look away from his clipboard. "Science is trial and error, Akuma. We must embrace failure as part of progress. Besides, the results are promising—his leap reached nearly fifteen feet, and the split demonstrated remarkable limb elasticity!"
"At the cost of his—" Akuma stopped, exhaling sharply as he gestured vaguely at the grunt. "Never mind."
Goji stood near the door, pacing nervously. His hands fidgeted as he muttered to himself, occasionally glancing toward the injured man. "This is insane. How the hell are we supposed to use Dust in combat if it makes us... do that?" His voice cracked as he pointed at the grunt, who was now babbling incoherently under the influence of painkillers.
Jason, still visibly shaken, had slumped into a corner, holding his head in his hands. "I can’t unsee that. I don’t care how ‘effective’ this drug is—nobody’s balls deserve that fate."
Anna, meanwhile, stood motionless, her cybernetic eyes flickering as she processed the events. Despite her enhanced composure, even she looked slightly pale. "Doctor," she said, her voice unusually strained, "is there a version of this drug that doesn't result in self-inflicted injury?"
Dr. Machinist finally turned to the group, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Ah, that’s the beauty of experimentation. The flaws in the formula will be corrected with more testing. This was merely Version 1.0. Once perfected, Dust will make our operatives nearly invincible."
Goji muttered under his breath, "Invincible, except for their junk..."
The injured grunt suddenly groaned louder, his voice breaking through the tense atmosphere. "Please... no more... experiments... I can’t feel anything... down there..."
Dr. Machinist approached him, placing a hand on the grunt's shoulder in what could only loosely be described as a comforting gesture. "You’re a pioneer, my boy. Rest assured, your name will go down in history... though perhaps not in the way you’d hoped."
The grunt whimpered weakly, and Akuma finally pushed himself off the wall, his patience clearly running thin. "Enough, Machinist. Fix him up and make sure this doesn’t happen again. If you’re going to test your little concoctions, find another way that doesn’t turn my men into punchlines."
The doctor tilted his head, feigning innocence. "Oh, Akuma, you wound me. But very well. I shall endeavor to refine the formula before our next test. Perhaps a reduction in adrenaline enhancement to mitigate impulsive acrobatics..."
As Dr. Machinist turned back to his notes, Akuma signaled for the others to follow him out of the lab. "We’ve seen enough. Let’s leave the good doctor to his... work."
The group filed out, each carrying the weight of what they’d just witnessed. Goji muttered under his breath, "I’m never taking anything that guy makes."
Jason nodded vigorously. "Agreed. I’d rather face a firing squad than take Dust."
Anna, her voice barely audible, added, "It’s hard to unsee something like that."
Behind them, the lab doors hissed shut, muffling the sound of the grunt’s groans and Dr. Machinist’s gleeful mutterings. As they walked down the dimly lit corridor, Akuma glanced over his shoulder and muttered, "If Machinist ever suggests testing anything on me, shoot me first."
The team shared a grim chuckle, their unease lingering like a dark cloud. They all knew that Dust was far from the last of Dr. Machinist’s horrifying creations, and the next “test” could very well claim another unfortunate victim.
The Improved Dust
The fluorescent lights in Dr. Machinist’s laboratory flickered ominously as he unveiled the newest iteration of Dust. The improved formula, dubbed Dust V2.0, was housed in a vial of iridescent liquid, its colors shifting hypnotically like an oil spill. The air in the lab was thick with tension as Akuma, Anna, Goji, and Jason stood in uneasy silence, staring at the vial on the metal tray before them.
Dr. Machinist adjusted his thick glasses and grinned with palpable excitement, gesturing toward the vial like a proud artist unveiling his masterpiece. "Gentlemen—and Anna, of course—behold the refined Dust. I have addressed the flaws of the original formula, and I dare say, this version is my magnum opus."
Goji raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Did you fix the whole... ‘jumping into splits and destroying your pelvis’ thing?"
Dr. Machinist waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, that was merely a side effect of unregulated adrenaline surges. This version is much more controlled." His grin widened, teeth gleaming in the lab’s harsh light. "However, the trade-offs are... exhilarating. Shall I demonstrate?"
Jason held up his hands, backing away. "Nope. Not it. Don’t even think about using me as your guinea pig."
Dr. Machinist chuckled darkly. "Relax, my dear boy. I’ve already arranged for a volunteer."
As if on cue, a trembling NGTNI grunt was ushered into the room, his eyes darting nervously between the team and the vial on the tray. His pale complexion and sweat-soaked uniform betrayed his fear, but the cold, unrelenting presence of Akuma ensured he wouldn’t run.
"Drink it," Akuma commanded, his voice low and devoid of sympathy.
The grunt hesitated, his lips quivering. "S-Sir... I don’t think—"
"Now," Akuma growled, his crimson eyes narrowing.
Resigned to his fate, the grunt reached for the vial with shaking hands, downing the liquid in a single gulp. The room fell silent, the air heavy with anticipation.
For a moment, nothing happened. The grunt blinked, shifting uneasily. "I... I feel fine. Maybe this one really is—"
A bloodcurdling scream tore from his throat, cutting him off mid-sentence. His body convulsed violently, muscles spasming as veins bulged across his skin. His face contorted in agony, but no visible injuries appeared.
Dr. Machinist leaned in with glee, jotting down notes as the man writhed on the floor. "Fascinating! The formula’s pain-inducing properties are functioning as intended. Remarkable!"
Jason grimaced, stepping back as the grunt clawed at the floor, his screams growing hoarse. "What the hell is wrong with you, Machinist? This is torture!"
Dr. Machinist shrugged, unfazed. "Pain is the body’s ultimate teacher, my dear boy. This subject is merely experiencing heightened nociception—a state of amplified pain perception without physical damage. It’s quite revolutionary, wouldn’t you agree?"
Anna crossed her arms, her cybernetic eyes flickering with unease. "What happens after the pain?"
Dr. Machinist’s grin widened impossibly. "Ah, that’s the most intriguing part. After precisely thirty minutes, the subject will experience total systemic failure—organs, heart, brain, all shutting down in perfect synchronization. A most elegant death, if I do say so myself."
The grunt’s screams began to fade into choked sobs, his body convulsing weaker by the second. Goji turned away, unable to watch. "This is insane. Why would you even make something like this?"
Dr. Machinist tilted his head, his expression one of genuine confusion. "Why not? Pain and death are as much tools of war as bullets and blades. This formula ensures that even the most resilient enemy will succumb to despair long before their body gives out. Imagine the psychological impact—entire armies brought to their knees without a single visible wound."
Jason shook his head, his fists clenched. "You’re a monster."
Dr. Machinist chuckled, unfazed by the accusation. "A monster? Perhaps. But a necessary one. Progress demands sacrifices, and I am more than willing to make them."
As the grunt’s body stilled, his breath coming in shallow gasps, Akuma stepped forward, his face impassive. He stared down at the dying man without a shred of pity.
"Time’s up," Akuma said flatly.
On cue, the grunt’s body seized violently before collapsing into stillness. The room was silent once more, save for the steady hum of the lab’s machinery.
Akuma turned to Dr. Machinist, his expression unreadable. "It works. That’s all that matters."
Jason gaped at him. "You’re not even fazed by this? He just died in the most brutal way possible, and you don’t care?"
Akuma glanced at him, his crimson eyes cold. "You think this is the worst thing I’ve seen? I’ve worked with Machinist for over sixty-five years. This is tame compared to some of the things he’s created."
Goji shook his head in disbelief. "I knew you were cold, but this... this is next-level."
Anna, though visibly unsettled, kept her composure. "What’s the plan for Dust now?"
Dr. Machinist clapped his hands together, his excitement renewed. "Oh, there’s much to refine! I need more test subjects, of course—preferably ones with varying pain tolerances. And perhaps a delivery system that allows for mass dispersion..."
Akuma cut him off with a raised hand. "Just make sure it’s ready when we need it. No more accidents like last time."
Dr. Machinist smirked. "Accidents? My dear Akuma, there’s no such thing as accidents in science. Only unexpected results."
As the team left the lab, the grim reality of Dust V2.0 hung heavy in the air. Each step away from the lab felt like a reprieve, but they all knew that Dr. Machinist’s twisted genius would continue to push the boundaries of morality and sanity.
And somewhere in the shadows, Akuma’s expression softened ever so slightly, a fleeting hint of unease crossing his features. For even he, hardened by decades of darkness, couldn’t completely ignore the weight of what they had just witnessed.