Consciousness returned in fragments.
Not all at once—more like someone lifting a heavy curtain an inch at a time. First came sound. A low hum, steady and cold, vibrating through metal and concrete. Then came light, too sterile and too sharp, stabbing through my eyelids. And finally, sensation. Weight in my chest. Heat in my limbs. Something wired, coiled, waiting.
'Well look on the bright side, your not dead and you seem to have all your limbs in tact! Yippee.' I slowly opened my eyes.
The ceiling above me wasn't the padded white of the lab where I'd been held before. This room was different—a dense metal surface paneled with black hexagonal plates, each one glowing faintly blue at the seams. A thin, constant mist drifted along the floor, evaporating around the platform I lay on.
For a moment I couldn't breathe.
I braced for restraints. Needles in the skin. A voice announcing "subject ready."
But my arms were free.
I pushed myself upright. My muscles obeyed with strange precision, like my body had rehearsed the motion thousands of times without telling me. Every nerve felt too alert, too sharp. My heartbeat was steady but stronger—like my chest held a second pulse beneath the first.
A door hissed open across the room.
Two figures entered. One in a black uniform with silver slashes on the shoulders. The other in a lab coat, hair pinned messily behind thick goggles.
They stopped a few feet away.
"Good morning, William," the woman said. Her voice held a practiced calm. "I'm Dr. Venti Lee. You've been unconscious for seventy-four hours."
Seventy-four hours.
My throat tightened. "Where am I?"
"In a DCR rehabilitation facility," she answered.
"Specifically: Cybernetic Integration Hall B." She gestured toward my body. "Your nanotech system—NE-CVK066—finished initial synchronization last night."
I didn't respond. Not because I didn't have questions, but because the other figure stepped closer.
A tall man with slate-gray eyes, wearing a reinforced tactical coat. Every line of his posture said military. His presence pressed down on the room—not threatening, but absolute.
"I am Commander Kael Draven," he said. "Director of field operations for the Cybernetic Recovery Division."
He looked me over once, evaluating.
"You survived something few people do."
He offered no reassurance. No apology for what had happened to me. Just a fact, delivered like an assessment report.
"What did they do to me?" I asked.
Dr. Venti moved closer, tapping a small slate screen. "Your body was forcibly integrated with a nanotech variant we classified as 'Vampire.' You were retrieved from an unauthorized black-site lab during our sweep operation."
"So I'm a science experiment now?" I say dryly. Last thing I want to be stuck with SGT Tough Knuckles and the Psycho double agent.
Draven didn't flinch. "You were always human. Your body just hosts something new. If it helps—your survival rate was under five percent."
"That doesn't help." I sigh.
'Under 5%?! Holy shit William, starting tomorrow we are taking our asses back to church.'
A faint, fleeting smirk crossed his face, almost humorless. "Didn't think it would."
Dr. Venti stepped beside my bed and checked the small interface at my wrist. "Your vitals are stable. Neural sync at 72 percent. Motor sync at 85 percent. We'll need to test movement next."
She tapped a sequence and projected a slim holographic panel in front of me. The same designation code flickered: NE-CVK066 — VAMPIRE.
I stared at it. My name, replaced with a serial number.
Before I could ask anything else, the door opened again.
A figure stepped inside—silent, composed, barefoot despite the cold metal floor.
A girl around my age. Dark hair tied back. Sleeveless hoodie over compression gear. Her steps didn't make a sound.
Her eyes locked on mine.
Something tightened in my chest.
"You're awake," she said quietly. No emotion. Just observation.
Dr. Venti introduced her. "This is Noir Avalon. She was retrieved from the same facility as you."
Noir gave a shallow nod, but her gaze never wavered. She studied me like analyzing a threat—or maybe something familiar.
"You screamed in your sleep," she said. "Yesterday."
My face heated. I looked away. "Yeah, well… sorry."
"Don't apologize," Noir replied. "It means your mind's still intact."
'How.. reassuring.'
Draven folded his arms. "Avalon will be part of your orientation. You two share similar integration profiles."
I frowned. "Integration?"
"Your nanites," Dr. Venti said. "They're still adapting to your neural patterns. That process takes time. Hours. Days for some."
"And for others?" I asked.
Noir answered for her. "Some don't wake up."
Silence settled for several seconds.
Draven turned to me. "We need to begin your physical assessment." His tone made it clear that was not optional. "Stand."
I slid off the metal platform. My feet hit the floor with a thud louder than expected—like my bones were heavier, denser. My balance wavered, but I steadied quickly. Every motion felt wrong and right at the same time. New. Efficient. Unnatural.
"Walk," Draven instructed.
I took a step.
My body surged forward more than I intended. I nearly stumbled, caught myself, and tried again—slowly, forcing the movement under my control.
"Not bad," Dr. Venti said. "But your motor sync is still calibrating. Try lifting your arm."
I raised my right arm.
It moved smoothly, but I noticed something else—my vision sharpened for a moment, focusing on micro-fine details of the room. Temperature shifts. Air pressure. Every tiny flicker of motion.
"What was that?" I muttered.
"Visual nanite overlay," Dr. Venti said. "Your system enhances perception in response to threats. Even minor ones."
"I didn't see a threat." I questioned half heartedly, hoping that my super robots or nanites? Yeah nanites. Didn't actually pick up something.
"You moved too fast," Noir said simply. "Your eyes tried to compensate."
I wasn't sure if that was supposed to be reassurance.
Draven stepped into the center of the room.
"Next test. Reflex calibration."
Before I could ask what that meant, he flicked his wrist.
A metal rod shot from the wall straight at my head.
I moved without thinking. My vision stretched—blurred—then sharpened. Time didn't slow, but my brain processed faster. My hand snapped up and caught the rod inches before it shattered my skull.
I stared at it, stunned.
Draven's expression didn't change. "Bullet Time. Prototype feature. Glad to see it works."
My hand shook. "You almost hit me."
"I trusted your system."
"You could've warned me!"
"Wouldn't have been a test," he said.
Noir exhaled through her nose—something like amusement.
Dr. Venti tapped her pad. "Reflex sync at 94 percent. That's unusually high for first activation."
I swallowed hard. Everything felt too vivid, too awake, too alive. Like I'd been sleeping through my entire life until now.
"Can I ask something?" I said, turning to Draven. "What happens now? You patched me up, tested me, told me I'm some kind of… nanotech hybrid. So what? You just draft me into your army?"
He didn't hesitate.
"You have two choices," Draven said. "Both are simple."
I braced myself.
"One: we simply eliminate you on the spot."
As if to emphasize his point two operators appeared in the doorway as he said it.
Feeling saliva build up in my mouth, I slowly swallow and ask,"And the second?"
"You join the DCR as an operative. Train. Learn control. Earn autonomy."
I clenched my jaw. "So death or the military."
"Death or purpose," Draven corrected. "You survived something catastrophic. Make it count."
I opened my mouth—but Noir cut in first.
"It's not as bad as it sounds," she said. "The DCR isn't perfect. But it's real. It's structure. Better than a white cell."
Her voice was almost gentle.
Dr. Venti folded her arms. "You're not obligated to decide today. But your system needs active regulation. Sitting idle will only worsen integration stress."
"Can I… think about it?"
"You can think while you train," Draven said. "Orientation begins now."
Before I could argue, he gestured for me to follow.
We exited the exam chamber into a wide hall lined with reinforced glass. Behind them, I caught glimpses of other figures—some human, some not fully so.
Training chambers. Recovery pods. Nanite suspension tanks.
Each step made the world sharper.
Whispers of motion around corners.
Temperature shifts in the air.
Footsteps behind glass walls.
My senses were too alive, too hyper-tuned. It felt like my brain was running on a processor it wasn't designed for.
Draven continued walking without slowing.
"This facility is temporary," he said. "You'll transfer once your system stabilizes. Until then, you'll train here with Avalon, Dr. Venti, and myself."
"And the others?" I asked, eyes drifting to the silhouettes beyond the glass.
"You'll meet them. Each is dangerous in a different way."
We approached an elevator. Draven keyed in a code, and the doors slid open.
Inside, Noir stood beside me, silent again.
After a moment, she spoke quietly. "You should know something."
I glanced at her.
"You're not the only one trying to learn control," she said. "You're just the latest."
The elevator descended.
Deeper into the DCR.
Deeper into whatever I'd become.
I exhaled, steadying myself.
"Fine," I said. "Let's begin."
And for the first time, Noir's expression softened.
"Welcome to the DCR, William."