As the head of the specimen got obliterated beyond recognition, Val ordered the guards to drag the body behind him as he left for a specific room.
'This never gets old,' he smirked in sadistic glee, recalling doing the same thing almost every night the specimen slept.
While he slept without a care in the world, he came here every night, pummeling bullets inside his head—it healed in due time of course.
He'd take the specimen inside a specific room to inject a specific drug. A drug that they'd generated to brainwash a person and they would never know it.
A simple method it was. Especially since the boy could heal monstrously fast if provided proper medicine.
He reached a stairway leading downward toward a single door.
Stepping inside, Val ordered the guard to strap the specimen on the chair as he prepared two syringes with the drugs.
One with a simple sedative and healing factor—something they were proud of—and the other filled with the 'brainwashing drug,' as Val liked to call it.
The room was simple enough like the others were.
Painted white, adding onto the black cubical lines. Two simple chairs inside, one with an extra table to the side with some random stuff on it, like a notebook, books, a pistol, a knife, an apple, and a piece of rock, which shimmered in a red hue—Dor to be more specific.
The other was nothing but a simple chair—on which, the specimen was sitting atop, unconscious, with the head half blown, brain matter oozing out like melting ice cream—oh, how much Val loved ice cream.
"Okay," he began slowly, "I thank you, gentlemen. Now, would you kindly leave this room?" he asked, more like ordering the guards, who left just after.
He whistled, shuffling closer to the specimen, and then caressed his hair, jerking his head forcefully.
He shoved the syringe with the sedative and healing factor inside the neck without a care in the world. Not waiting for even a second, he plunged the brainwashing one as well.
"Now, now." He said slowly and raspily as he sat on the chair opposite the specimen. "Let's wait, shall we?" he asked to no one in particular, then waited with his arms crossed in front akin to a statue.
A total of sixty-seven seconds, he noted. That was the time it took for the specimens to heal completely—truly monstrous indeed.
Just when the specimen opened his eyes and peered around in confusion like a drunk, Val ordered.
"Would you kindly come out instead of your 'roommate' here? S-517?" As fast as his words left, the specimen's eyes, which were retaining some clarity, dulled.
It was as if life itself had been seeped out of the subject—fascinating, he thought.
The specimen stared at the ground, unfocused just like a doll without strings.
Val squinted his eyes and ordered.
"Kindly pick up the apple on the table beside you."
He watched in fascination as the subject's hand reached out to the apple.
'Yes! This is it!' He thought. But his excitement clearly didn't last long as the specimen picked up the book, holding it in front with the same focusless, dull eyes.
"Ugh," Val groaned, massaging his temples.
He hated this. Every day, he had to come here into this room, and 'teach' S-517 to follow orders above anything. The subject obeyed, but there had been mistakes till now, and he despised mistakes.
That wasn't the fact that made his life miserable, but it was that:
'You won't even remember this tomorrow,' he thought, saddened.
He'd love to torture, but that wouldn't really work now would it? The 'thing' in front of him wasn't a person, not in that 'state' at least. In simple terms, S-517 was an AI.
A newly created AI, which was learning. The more he trained and taught it through iterations every night, the more the AI would learn and adapt to any situation possible.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
The synchronization rate depicted how much the 'AI' was in control instead of the real person. That was why the specimen had been dull, and emotionless, lately.
The synchronization rate was at 79—no it should have increased up to 80-81% by now.
He sighed, and decided he'd teach the 'AI' constantly, and let the specimen sleep while he trained the it.
"Okay, let's begin." He said, picking up a thick long book along with reading glasses—which he wore right away—and opened a marked page to continue reading from where he'd left off at.
The words and sentences written in the book were akin to 'commands' and 'codes' to make a subject loyal and follow orders.
"Reflectionless black, whiteness. A dragon. Calm as water. Ruthless as a storm . . . " He continued reading hours upon hours. Not stopping.
He decided that he'd read till the seven-day deadline.
His daughter's life was more precious than his own well-being, after all.
***
[Synchronization 82 % . . . 83% . . . 84%]
As the synchronization increased, so did the thumping of my heart. I did not have a clue about what to do, I was scared.
[Synchronization 90% . . . 93% . . . .98% ]
The percentage increased at an alarming rate, all while I stood there silently, limply looking at the countdown to my demise.
As the synchronization got stuck at 98%, my life flashed before me, it was as if the time itself had slowed down.
The day I was born, fully naked, with a hand print on my butt-cheeks. Confused, and bewildered.
The day I learned that something as amazing as Pyromancy existed. The day when I met Ash for the first time, the day when I and dad had a talk, and he told me of his dream to see the rainbow sky.
The day he'd vanished. The day I had been deemed as the child of a coward.
The day Ash died, because of me. The day I had first met Jeramie, that f*cker; he'd ruined my life.
The day when Leia, my sister, had gotten married, the day when I had met Drake. when I had met Evallyn, my fiancée, and the day I had returned home with a daughter in tow.
And then the day I had been sent to this 'tutorial' which honestly seemed more real day by day.
And to now, when I waited for my end.
With a single tear trickling down my cheek, I closed my eyes as the numbers shifted in front of me.
[Synchronization 99% . . . ]
***
Val Silver rubbed his tired eyes, putting the book down. It had been more than seven days, a few hours more or so, and he had finally completed the book.
He looked up at the subject . . . 'No, let's give him a name shall we?' He thought.
"Hmm. What about . . . Vin?" he said tiredly and stood up. His gaze on the pistol, he ordered.
"Would you kindly pick up that pistol?"
Vin nodded, his dull eyes traveling from one thing to another until they stopped on the pistol. He stood up and picked it up.
"Good," thinking of something, Val grinned and ordered, "pick up that knife and shove it in your stomach."
Doing as ordered, Vin picked up the knife, and without hesitation shoved it in his stomach, not an ounce of pain on his face.
"How about you gouge that eyeball of yours? The right one?" Val ordered, and Vin obeyed dully.
He snapped his hand and plunged his fingers inside his right eye socket. Without even blinking with his left eye, Vin pulled out his eyeball in a gory mess, blood flowed down like tears and then stopped, the eye socket healing slowly.
Vin dropped the eyeball, and it rolled on the ground like an egg before being stomped by Val's walking figure.
"Follow me," Val ordered, satisfied. He walked outside the room alongside Vin.
Now that Vin was obeying, Val had extra months to train him—according to Felisha, if he managed to brainwash Vin into obeying, she'd give him extra time to train Vin.
He cracked his neck, mirrored by Vin.
There was a lot of work to do.
***
Vin jerked his hand away from the older man's grasp and shuffled back, focused on completing his task: defeat Val without killing or mortally hurting him.
He downed ten pieces of Dor at once, and breathed in, his eyes shimmering a dull, emotionless yet eerie blood-red.
With a boom, his hands burst into flames, burning in the heat, but Vin did not even wince. Heck, he did not even glance at his hands, only noticing the burnt smell wafting in his nose and the sound of sizzling.
He lunged and threw his fist on Val's right shoulder. Val dodged.
Without any indication, Vin's left hand exploded and thrust forward, hitting Val's chest with his right shoulder.
Before Val had any moment to stabilize himself, Vin jumped and threw a fist at Val's face. Caught off guard, Val could do nothing as the burning fist collided with his jaw, and before he had any time to process what had happened, an explosion resounded from the point of impact, sending Val tumbling to the ground.
The exchange had lasted only a few seconds at most, and It was clear who won.
Val groaned, dusting his clothes—which were not dirty at all as even the ground was clean—stood up, the right side of his face burnt beyond recognition, his eyeball dangling limply.
"Good," Val praised, a red hue shimmered inside his chest, and traveled towards his cheek, illuminating the bones' and veins' shadows.
Val, at a rate visible to eyes, healed and soon enough, there was not even an indication left that suggested anything even closely resembling a scar or a place that had been burnt.
"Come on, Vin." Val began slowly and turned around toward a corner where several weapons and equipment lay. "Through the month we've spent together, I'm sure you are ready, come on you've got your first mission," Val ordered.
Vin silently walked up to him, his eyes dull; lacking any emotion, interest, or any life for the matter.
He seemed to be a walking corpse—even when he looked just like any other normal human being would.
Val helped Vin wear his uniform, and then selected some weapons for him: a pistol, a rifle, a sniper, and finally, a simple dagger.
"Follow me," Val said and trotted outside where lay a staircase, leading up to a facility where many employees, soldiers, doctors, and subjects ran about.
They walked for a little while longer, then hopping on an elevator, they reached a single room, inside which, sat a beautiful woman on a chair.
She looked up, her amethyst eyes scanning every part of Vin's body like a hungry predator.
"Miss. Felisha," Val began slowly. "I've brought S-517, no, more appropriately, Vin."