Sergeant Darius "Hellhound" Rook gritted his teeth as the serum coursed through his veins, its icy grip attempting to overwrite his will. His muscles spasmed, his skin prickled as if something beneath it was trying to crawl out. The hunger intensified. He could feel it clawing at his sanity, whispering commands into his brain—commands to obey, to kneel before Kruger.
But Rook was no one's dog.
His pulse steadied. He focused, breathing through the torment, forcing himself to remember who he was. A soldier. A survivor. A fighter. His fingers twitched, claws sharpening involuntarily. The restraints still held, but he could feel their weakness. They weren't built for something like him.
Across the room, Dr. Sylvia "Plague Mistress" Voss watched him with sadistic curiosity, her cold smile barely concealed. She scribbled notes on her datapad. "Incredible resistance," she mused. "You're stronger than expected, Sergeant. But you will break, eventually. The serum always wins."
Rook exhaled, gathering every ounce of his newfound strength.
With a roar, he pulled against the restraints. Metal groaned, then snapped. His arm broke free, and before Voss could react, he ripped his other arm loose, sending shattered steel clattering to the floor. He lunged, his enhanced reflexes taking over—a predator unleashed.
Voss barely dodged in time, stumbling backward as Rook's fist caved in the control panel behind her. Sparks rained down. Alarms blared. The red emergency lights bathed the room in a sinister glow.
Security doors slammed open.
Two heavily armed guards rushed in, rifles raised. They didn't hesitate. They fired.
Rook moved before the bullets reached him.
His enhanced speed kicked in—his body a blur. The rounds barely grazed his flesh as he closed the distance between him and the first guard. He grabbed the soldier's wrist, twisted—a sickening crunch. The man screamed, but Rook was already moving.
A knee to the gut. An elbow to the skull.
The first guard collapsed.
The second hesitated. That was his mistake.
Rook pounced, grabbing the rifle barrel and yanking it aside before slamming his fist into the soldier's throat. A choked gasp, a struggle—then nothing.
Breathing heavily, Rook turned to Voss, who had backed into the corner, her smirk faltering. He took a step forward, but before he could strike—
Gas flooded the room.
His vision blurred. His body swayed. His newly enhanced reflexes fought against the sedative, but his limbs grew heavy.
The last thing he saw before collapsing was Voss's wicked grin.
"You really are fascinating, Sergeant. Let's see how much more you can endure."
Darkness swallowed him whole.