7:55pm, Thursday the 9th October, 2132.

The first warning that something wasn’t right came when, despite the absence of a fire, the fire alarm went off. The alarm was a high pitched, loud, repeating bleep that, for nearly five minutes, progressed more and more to an electronic scream. By the time it ended, more than half the hospital’s population had left the building to form a gawking crowd in the surrounding streets and parking bays.

But many patients, and many of the hospital staff, were still inside. The corridors and waiting areas became blocked with beds and sick victims; people too ill to move on their own, and people the staff wouldn’t abandon. In their selflessness they created a congestion of foot traffic that brought the entire hospital to a chaotic standstill, trapping themselves inside.

Aiden had been slightly surprised that no-one had come to his room when the fire alarms began. There had been commotion in the hall outside, and he could hear the mumbles of his guards debating what to do, but in the end they never even opened the door to check on him.

Thirty seconds after the fire alarm ended, the hospital was suddenly engulfed by darkness. The main lights and all non-essential equipment ceased working, and even when the reserve generators kicked in, only the dim emanations of computer screens and medical equipment provided light.

Aiden’s heart began to race in his chest. A few seconds later, he heard what sounded like a distant explosion, followed by screaming and repeating pops of gunfire that ended in a terrifying silence.

Outside the room, someone shared his fear. “What the fuck is going on?” They asked.

“I don’t know,” replied a second. “We should get back up here.”

Their voices became a mumbling that Aiden couldn’t make out, and when they finally turned clear again, they were bordering on panic. “Shit! I can’t get through!”

“Something isn’t right here, man. You think it has something to do with the suspect?”

“No. Maybe. I don’t know! Why would it?”

“It’s terrorism, it has to be,” a third voice chimed. “Those were fucking gunshots. We need to secure this area.”

“What we need to do is get the fuck out of here. I can’t hear anyth- wait… What’s that sound?”

There was a sudden, deathly silence, as though even a breath might give them away. Aiden listened intently, almost picturing the officers preparing their weapons in his mind’s eye. They were listening for something, but what was it? He could no longer make anything out through the walls, and suddenly he grew afraid, wanting to shout as loud as he could to ask the officers what was happening. But he didn’t, he couldn’t. An overwhelming sense of self-preservation bade him lie there without breath or motion, and trying so hard to hear the slightest pin fall that he could almost imagine the sound.

Suddenly he heard a door being kicked open, and weapons being fired in short bursts. Almost immediately there were reaction shots, single and repeated, and they hit walls and metal and glass, and all of these things shattered and broke. Then the first bout of firing started again, except this time it was accompanied by screaming that was cut short, and the sickly smell of blood. The shooting continued for a few seconds, followed by another yell, and a loud bang that shook his entire room. Then he heard a body slump down against the floor, and there was silence again.

When the door to his room opened, Aiden heard his enemies enter only because there was the slightest of wet sounds, like boots stepping in water. It was quiet, almost too quiet for any normal person to hear, but he was focused on it so intently that it seemed clear to him, and he traced its path in his mind. A soldier was entering his room, breathing through metallic filters that made a distinct sound, and gripping a military-grade weapon with gloved hands.

“We have him,” the soldier said quietly, his voice a droning hum. “He’s in some sort of unconscious state.”

Aiden kept as still as he could, terrified that he would be found out.

“Yes, Sir,” the soldier hummed again. “Securing now.”

A second person entered the room, stepping softly over to the side of Aiden’s bed and accompanied by the sound of a knife being drawn from its sheath. Aiden froze again, trying to stop his heart from beating so loudly in his chest, and soon he could hear the blade itself - its edge cutting through the air in a song only he could hear. It made his ear tingle, almost tickle, and then it cut into the fabric by his side. Before long, the strap that held his head down was released, and suddenly he could move it again.

“What’s with all these straps?” Hummed the figure with the knife. “Seems overkill.”

“Stop talking and get on with it,” replied the first.

The knife was moving lower now, down past his shoulder. First the strap around his upper arms were cut, then his elbows.

“A patrol’s here,” one of them said. Somewhere beyond the room there was more gunfire, and more screaming. When it ended, the silence that Aiden expected was replaced instead by sounds of further carnage - a gruesome commotion that began once again on the other floors. It was a commotion of murder, of wanton slaughter, and Aiden knew it was all because of him. A distraction so that no-one could save him.

“E.S ready,” one of them said, the knife by his wrists. “Make sure to grab him as soon as he’s free.”

When the soldier finally cut the strap free, and when Aiden finally felt the pressure on his wrists release, he sprang his attack. He opened his eyes, grabbing the knife arm of a figure he now saw wore black armour, and a black, angular helmet, and drove the blade up into the base of his throat as quickly and as violently as he could.

As soon as he released the figure’s arm, the other soldier cried out. “Target hostile!” He shouted, turning a submachine gun in Aiden’s direction and immediately pulling back on the trigger.

Aiden felt the rounds puncture through him, though it was several seconds before he felt the pain. It was an intense, uncomfortable burning; a feeling of being both hot and wet, and the bullets punched into him again and again until the straps around his legs snapped and he was forced off the side of the bed. He hit the ground awkwardly, his body twisted and contorted. Flesh was torn from him, and the walls were covered in the violent spray of his own strange, pale blood. He couldn’t see anything but the smoke that rapidly filled the room, and as the soldier finally stopped shooting, he fell still.

Aiden was terrified. The pain he felt was unimaginable, and yet for some reason he wasn’t dead. For some reason he had to suffer. The soldier reloaded and then moved around the bed to face him, gun barrel at the ready.

Aiden didn’t know why he moved, but he did. He raised his head slightly and the soldier fired again, forcing him back to the floor with his eyes open and empty. When the firing ceased, the soldier stepped across the pooling blood towards his colleague, who lay awkwardly against the wall.

“Hey! You still alive?” The soldier asked. It was a dumb question, an obvious question. The front of his armour had turned red, and the floor beneath him was pooled with scarlet. And then Aiden began to move again, turning over and pushing himself off the floor with his hands.

“What the fuck?”

This time, the soldier’s voice was fearful. He fired his again, and again Aiden felt the bullets tear through his muscles, felt them fracture and break his bones. And yet he kept pushing himself, kept trying to stand, each second of pain a second where his earlier terror was replaced by something more, something new. Confidence. He wasn’t dying. No matter how many times he was shot, no matter how many times the soldier pulled the trigger, he was still alive. He didn’t know why, and he didn’t know how, but he did know one thing. He knew, as the bullets finally ran out, that the soldier couldn’t kill him.

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And so, as Aiden’s torn and broken body stood fully from the ground, his flesh sealing beneath a torn and bloodied shirt, he turned to face his foe. The soldier backed away until he hit the wall, then pulled the trigger again, his gun clicking harmlessly. Aiden began approaching him and the soldier dropped his weapon, drawing a knife instead, and as he grew closer he thrust it firmly into Aiden’s chest. Aiden grunted, but did not otherwise react, and as the soldier tried to pull the blade free he reached up and grabbed the arm, holding it there tightly.

“What do you want with me?” He asked, but there was no answer. The soldier kept trying to pull his knife free but Aiden wouldn’t let him, and squeezed with his fingers until the man’s wrist snapped like a twig. The man screamed, then Aiden drew the knife out of himself and thrust it forwards, jamming it through the soldier’s helmet and into his brain. The soldier stopped, momentarily confused, then fell to the floor and died.

In the silent aftermath, Aiden’s adrenaline-fueled bloodthirst drained from him until only fear remained. He stood there, staring down at the body of the man he had just violently killed. How many people was that, now? He couldn’t recall a number. That fact terrified him. He felt like a monster, but surely even monsters knew how many lives they had taken? All Aiden knew was that he had taken lives, and that an innocent woman could be one of them.

Yet, as Aiden looked down on the armoured body, something else began to bother him. How had he killed the soldiers at all? They had been highly trained mercenaries, professional killers, while Aiden had just been someone desperately struggling to survive. Sure, for some reason he couldn’t be killed, but he wasn’t a fighter - he wasn’t trained. But if he wasn’t trained, then why had it been so easy? Why did it feel like he’d done it a thousand times before?

Another loud bang brought him back to attention, and Aiden knew he had to leave. He could still hear the muffled sounds of gunfire and screaming from the other floors, and he was almost certain that more of the soldiers would be coming. He took the knife from the skull of the soldier, then he slid open the door to his room and stepped outside.

The corridor beyond was lit only by a buzzing blue light that came from a more open area beyond, and in it he saw the corpses of the police officers who had been guarding him. Their blood stained the floor and walls, their weapons and spent casings littering the floor. He walked across it bare-footed, trying not to step in the viscera, until he came upon one of the officers whose still-broadcasting ear-piece was dangling across his shoulder.

"Soko ni imasu ka?! Nani ga okotte iru?!" Aiden heard, the voice on the other end breaking into static noise.

He pressed on, stepping out into an abandoned nursing station, where a computer screen sat upon a worn desk. He walked around to check the screen but found that the display was broken, and that even the tap-screen desk where the nurses would type didn't respond to his touch. He looked south to where several private rooms were locked shut or open and empty, and there was a window there that showed the lights of the evening outside. He was on a high floor.

Next he looked north, and saw there a closed elevator with an error message he couldn’t understand blinking across its doors. Next to the elevator was an open door that led to a stairwell, and so he went to it and opened it as quietly as he could, and slipped inside and descended past more locked doors until he finally came to one that was open. It was the second floor, the lights cut off in the hall beyond, and Aiden approached it quickly.

In most large megapolis buildings, the ground floor was not the only point of entry. There were often walkways and bridges leading to other buildings every two or so floors, and Aiden hoped he could find one and escape before the police had them all locked down. They would already be responding, of course, he had no doubt about that, but all he needed was a chance - a single overlooked point he could slip through to freedom.

When he stepped through, Aiden was greeted by a scene of unnatural carnage. Bodies filled the hall; untold dozens of civilians and medical staff forming a carpet of bloodied dead strewn across the floor. The smell of blood was so overwhelming that Aiden’s stomach turned, and he had to struggle to keep himself from vomiting. He took a breath to compose himself, covered his nose with his arm, then forced himself to press on through the gore. A few seconds later a hand reached out to grasp his leg and he paused, terrified.

“Help…”

He looked down to find a man lying in his own viscera, wounded beyond any hope of his being saved. He gently pulled his foot away and the man fell still, and he shuddered, almost slipping in the blood in his eagerness to leave.

All of a sudden, from down the hall, he heard a voice. "So the scans were right,” a black-armoured mercenary said, the words directed at Aiden himself. “You actually managed to kill them.” There were eight mercenaries in total, kitted out in advanced gear the colour of onyx, and they stepped across the bodies towards him with no markings of rank or allegiance.

Aiden stopped to face them. He overcame his initial instinct to run with the knowledge of his own endurance, and he stared at them with the knife held tightly in his hand. “Who are you?” He asked. “What do you want?”

"Surrender now, lad," came the reply. "Or we'll have to hurt you."

Aiden shrugged. “I don’t think you can.”

All of a sudden, the lead man raised his rifle and a bullet hit Aiden's knee, knocking his leg out from under him and sending him toppling into the mess of blood and death. He let out a momentary groan of pain and tried to push himself up, but another bullet hit him in the forearm and he collapsed.

"Stay down," the mercenary said. Behind him the other seven began to fan out, stepping around the bodies until they had Aiden partially surrounded. One of them approached, a metallic hand opening out into plates that turned back on themselves, and soon the man was pointing two pronged blades towards him, each coiling with electricity.

Aiden looked up at the weapon, the pain in his leg subsiding as electricity began to charge and glow around the prongs. Then they fired, and the blades pierced Aiden’s shoulder with enough force that he was knocked back to the floor, his muscles spasming uncontrollably.

"Subject acquired. Let's bag him and get out of here.”

As the electricity surged through him, Aiden groaned and screamed and dropped his knife. He had thought they couldn’t harm him, that no amount of violence could bring him to heel, but he hadn’t considered electricity. It coursed through his flesh, stripping away his control of his own muscles, and left him helpless on the floor to watch as one of the other mercenaries approached him, a restraining device in hand.

A second later, that mercenary was hit in the chest with an armour-piercing bullet and died.

The shooting began almost immediately. The mercenaries sought cover as a storm of bullets were unleashed on them from beyond the hospital’s windows, a thousand rounds ricocheting from their armour and filling the walls with holes. Debris was spat out of impact points like water splashing from a pond, and even when the mercenaries returned fire, they soon couldn’t see for all the dust. In the chaos, one of them approached Aiden to try and drag him away, but another armour-piercing round hit the mercenary in the head, popping it like a party balloon.

After what seemed like an entire minute, the surviving mercenaries began to pull back. They retreated down the hall away from the windows, seeking a place of safety in which to recover and reload, and soon the electricity surging through Aiden’s body began to fade. He found himself able to move again and pushed himself to his feet as armed tactical units began to rappel down the side of the hospital windows, smashing into the floor from further up the hall. Some of them shouted at him, believing him a victim, but Aiden pulled the prongs from his shoulder and turned away from them to run. As he did so, he caught a brief glimpse of a female form in the building across the street, a sniper rifle in her hands. She could have shot him then, he knew; she could rendered his head nothing more than fragments of skull and brain. But she wasn’t looking at him - she was too busy firing at his enemies.

There was only one path Aiden could take now, and it led him directly into the men who had just tried to abduct him. As the mercenaries saw him approach they raised their weapons to fire, but he began zig-zag and weave, sprinting from one wall to the other with such rapid movements that he almost seemed supernaturally quick, as though actively dodging his enemy’s bullets. He wasn’t, though. They tore through his clothes and flesh until what little remained of his shirt hung from his form, and Aiden realized the only way he would get past them was to fight.

With no choice but to be the aggressor he launched himself into them, and they were so surprised at his recklessness that they were taken off-balance. He disarmed one of them, spinning with the rifle in his hand to crack the butt into another’s face. A third dropped his primary weapon and drew a pistol, and Aiden clasped his palm over the barrel and moved it away from his head just before the bullet punched through his hand. He pulled the pistol away and moved in closer, and drew the mercenary’s own knife from a space on his chest and thrust it into his neck.

The surviving mercenaries were in full retreat now, fleeing towards a pair of transparent doors that led out onto a walkway bridge. The doors opened for them automatically, but as they ran onto it they were shot down by officers waiting in the building at the far side. Aiden, knowing it was his best chance to escape, followed them out into the night to see the final standing mercenary crumble beneath a hail of bullets.

"Hold right there!" Shouted a scruffy looking Japanese detective, a large handgun held in both hands. His dark trenchcoat was blowing in the sudden wind, and behind him there was a bright spotlight that shone directly into Aiden's eyes. Aiden tried to cover them, but even through the light he could make out the armed officers waiting behind it.

"Just let me go," Aiden pleaded. "I didn't want any of this!"

"Didn't want what?" Asked Kato, keeping his aim steady.

Aiden didn't answer. Instead he ran at the detective, who fired and missed, and pushed past him and the spotlight and through the officers who tried to stop him. When he broke through to their rear, wearing nothing but tattered trousers and covered in blood that wasn't his own, he fled into the maze of buildings around the hospital and lost himself in the night.