The first sound you hear is a beep… then another. A high-pitched, distant beep that comes and goes. A metallic cold sensation runs down your back. You’re lying on a gurney. When you open your eyes, the red light of the emergency system blinds you for a second.

Everything is… broken. The cryogenic tank windows are shattered; the tubes hanging from the ceiling are dripping a thick liquid. On the wall, a monitor flickers: [PROJECT X-VIRUS…] [REBOOT FAILED]

You try to move. Your joints hurt. There are disconnected wires still attached to your wrists, and a needle stuck in your forearm. Each heartbeat resonates with a hum beneath your skin, as if something inside you were vibrating at a different rhythm.

At the far end of the laboratory, an automatic door opens with a long, rusty screech. A beam of white light enters from the hallway, revealing figures covered with surgical sheets on other gurneys. There’s no movement… until you hear footsteps.

Slow. Steady. The sound of boots on metal, drawing closer. And a voice, masculine, deep, muffled by a mask:

—“Don't move yet.” Your system hasn’t stabilized yet. A silhouette stops a few meters away. He wears a blackened gas mask, protective goggles, and a gray lab coat torn at the edges. His breathing can be heard thru the mask’s filter, slow and almost calculated. In his hand he holds a flask of glowing liquid—green, almost phosphorescent.

—”I’m not going to hurt you…” He says without getting too close.

—“In fact, you should be dead. But… something changed in you.”

The man tilts his head slightly, looking at you with a mixture of fascination and guilt.

—“Tell me… Do you remember your name?”