Dr. Hayes was way too excited about my ability to die and come back.
Like, concerningly excited.
"So!" He pulled up a stool and sat across from me, tablet in hand. "Let's start with the basics. You've died three times so far, correct?"
"Correct. And I'd like to keep that number as low as possible."
"Understandable! But we need data to help you survive better." He tapped his tablet. "Walk me through each death. Every detail you can remember."
I sighed. "Death one: shipping container. Crushed. Very painful. Woke up in an abandoned building about four blocks away."
He typed rapidly. "Time between death and respawn?"
"Instant? Maybe a few seconds? Hard to tell when you're, you know, dead."
"And the phantom pain?"
"Lasted about an hour. I could feel where everything was crushed. It was horrible."
"Fascinating. Death two?"
"Jumped off my balcony. Four stories. Testing if the ability was real." I grimaced at the memory. "Broke everything. Woke up in a maintenance closet two blocks away. Phantom pain was worse because I knew exactly how I'd broken."
"Interesting. So conscious awareness of the death method affects psychological response." More typing. "And death three?"
"Deli robbery. Energy weapon discharge hit me in the chest. Woke up in a dumpster three blocks away. Smelled like garbage for hours. The universe has a sense of humor and it hates me."
Dr. Hayes looked up. "A dumpster?"
"Yes. A dumpster. My respawn location quality is degrading with each death."
"Or the ability is optimizing for concealment over comfort." He made a note. "Have you noticed any patterns? Time of day? Environmental factors?"
"No. Just random enclosed spaces within a kilometer or two. Always somewhere I won't immediately be seen respawning."
"Smart ability. It's protecting you from exposure." He set down the tablet. "Alright, let's get your physical baseline. Height, weight, vitals. Standard stuff."
I relaxed slightly. Standard medical exam I could handle.
The next thirty minutes were actually pretty normal.
Height: 5'10". Weight: 165 lbs. Blood pressure: slightly elevated but he said that was "understandable given circumstances." Heart rate: also elevated. Lung capacity: average. Reflexes: normal.
"You're in okay shape for a desk worker," Dr. Hayes noted. "Not great, but not terrible. Could use more cardio. Upper body strength is weak. Flexibility is poor." He made notes. "We'll work on that during training."
"I liked being weak and inflexible, thanks."
"Well, you won't survive long in the field with these stats. But that's what training is for!" He pulled up something on his tablet. "Now, let's talk about the interesting part."
"The interesting part?"
"We need to test your ability parameters. Specifically: exact respawn timing, respawn radius, and whether there are conditions that affect the ability."
I didn't like where this was going. "Test how?"
"Well, we need to kill you a few times under controlled conditions. With sensors positioned throughout the building to track your respawn location and timing." He said it so casually, like he was suggesting we grab lunch.
"You want to kill me. Multiple times. For science."
"For data! Very important data that will help us understand your ability and keep you alive longer in the future." He stood up. "Commander Hill approved it. It's all in your contract."
I thought back to the contract I'd signed. There had been a section about "ability assessment and parameter testing."
I'd assumed that meant, like, questionnaires or something.
Not murder.
"How many times?" I asked weakly.
"Just a few! Maybe three or four. Five at most. We want different death types to see if the method affects respawn variables." He walked to the door. "Follow me. We'll be using Testing Chamber A."
"Testing Chamber A sounds ominous."
"It's perfectly safe! For the room, anyway."
That was not comforting.
Dr. Hayes led me down a corridor to what looked like a reinforced bunker.
Thick blast doors. Observation windows that were definitely bulletproof. Warning signs that included phrases like "EXTREME HAZARD" and "AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY."
"This is fine," I muttered. "This is totally fine. Just a normal Monday morning getting murdered for science."
Dr. Hayes opened the blast door. Inside was a large chamber—maybe 20 feet by 20 feet—with concrete walls, a drain in the floor, and absolutely nothing else.
It looked like a room designed to contain explosions.
Or murders.
Probably both.
"Step inside, please."
I stepped inside, every survival instinct screaming at me to run.
The door sealed behind me with a heavy THUNK.
Dr. Hayes's voice came through a speaker. "Alright, Mr. Lynn! We'll start with something quick and relatively painless. Exposure to nitrogen gas. You'll feel light-headed, lose consciousness, and wake up wherever you respawn. We have sensors positioned throughout this building and the surrounding area to triangulate your location."
"Wait, you said 'relatively painless'—"
"It's the most humane method available! You won't even know it's happening. Ready?"
"NO—"
A vent in the ceiling opened with a hiss.
"Too late! Nitrogen is already flooding the chamber. You should feel the effects in about thirty seconds."
I looked around frantically for an exit. There wasn't one.
"This is what I signed up for," I said to the empty chamber. "This is literally what I agreed to. I'm being murdered by a government agency and it's technically legal."
I was starting to feel light-headed.
"Dr. Hayes, I don't feel so good—"
"That's normal! Just relax. It'll be over soon."
"That's what they say in horror movies before someone dies!"
"You're going to come back though!"
"That doesn't make this BETTER—"
The room tilted.
My knees buckled.
I hit the ground hard, vision tunneling.
"Fuck," I managed, right before everything went black.
Death #4: Nitrogen asphyxiation (for science)
I woke up gasping on a cold tile floor.
Bathroom. I was in a bathroom.
Public bathroom, based on the stalls. My phone was buzzing in my pocket.
I pulled it out with shaking hands.
Text from unknown number: "Respawn detected. Building C, Level 4, Men's Restroom. Distance from death point: 1.4 kilometers. Time of death to respawn: 4.7 seconds. Please return to Testing Chamber A for debrief."
They were tracking my deaths with GPS accuracy.
This was my job now.
I pulled myself up using the sink. Looked at myself in the mirror.
Same face. Still alive. Still in a public bathroom, which was at least better than a dumpster.
Respawn location quality: slightly improving.
My lungs felt weird. Not painful, exactly, but wrong. Like they remembered not working.
I splashed water on my face and headed back to the testing area.
Dr. Hayes was practically bouncing with excitement when I walked in.
"Incredible! The respawn timing is consistent! 4.7 seconds from brain death to consciousness!" He showed me his tablet, which had a map with dots marking my death and respawn locations. "And look at this radius pattern! Definitely weighted toward enclosed spaces with low foot traffic!"
"Glad my death is contributing to science."
"It absolutely is! The data we're getting is invaluable!" He made notes. "How do you feel? Any lingering effects?"
"My lungs feel weird. Like they remember not breathing."
"Phantom sensation! That's consistent with your previous reports. It should fade in thirty to forty minutes." He checked his tablet. "We need at least two more data points for statistical significance. Ready for test two?"
"Can we take a break?"
"We've only been at this for an hour! And you've only died once today!"
"ONLY died once. Listen to yourself."
"Mr. Lynn, I understand this is uncomfortable, but we're gathering crucial data that will help keep you alive in the field. Don't you want that?"
I did want that.
But I also didn't want to be killed repeatedly by an overly enthusiastic scientist.
"What's test two?" I asked reluctantly.
"Electric shock! Quick, relatively painless, and a different death mechanism than asphyxiation. We want to see if death method affects respawn parameters." He gestured back to the chamber. "Shall we?"
I looked at the chamber. At Dr. Hayes. At my complete lack of options.
"Fine. But after this, we take a real break."
"Of course! We're not monsters." He grinned. "We're scientists."
Somehow that was worse.
I walked back into the testing chamber, already regretting my life choices.
The door sealed behind me again.
"Alright!" Dr. Hayes's voice came through the speaker. "For this test, you'll stand on the metal plate in the center. When I give the signal, we'll send an electrical current through the plate. It'll stop your heart instantly. You won't feel much."
"You keep saying things like 'won't feel much' and 'relatively painless' and I don't believe you anymore."
"Trust me! I'm a doctor!"
"You're a doctor who kills people for science!"
"Technically, you can't be killed permanently, so it's more like... temporary inconvenience."
"I'm filing a complaint with HR."
"SHIELD doesn't have HR for enhanced assets. You have handlers."
"That's worse! That's so much worse!"
"Stand on the plate, please."
I stood on the plate, mentally composing a very angry email to Jennifer about contract terms.
"On three," Dr. Hayes said. "One... two..."
He didn't say three.
The world turned white and pain and then—
Death #5: Electrocution (also for science)
I woke up in a janitor's closet screaming.
Mops. Buckets. Industrial cleaner smell.
My whole body tingled like I'd licked an electrical outlet. Which, technically, I kind of had.
Phone buzzed.
Text: "Respawn detected. Building B, Level 2, Storage Closet. Distance: 1.6 kilometers. Time: 5.1 seconds. Please return to Testing Chamber A for debrief."
"NO," I said to the mops. "I'm not going back. I'm taking a break. I'm taking a break in this nice closet with these nice mops and Dr. Hayes can wait."
I sat down on the floor between the cleaning supplies and tried to remember how to breathe normally.
Five deaths in two weeks.
Two of them were today.
For science.
This was my life now.
My phone rang.
"Mr. Lynn?" Dr. Hayes's voice. "We're showing you respawned but you're not back yet. Are you alright?"
"I'm taking a break."
"But we're right in the middle of testing—"
"I'm. Taking. A. Break." I said it slowly and clearly. "I've died twice in an hour. I'm sitting in a janitor's closet that smells like bleach. I need fifteen minutes before you kill me again."
Silence.
Then: "That's... actually very reasonable. Take your time. We'll resume when you're ready."
He hung up.
I sat there in the closet, surrounded by cleaning supplies, and laughed.
Because what else could I do?
Fifteen minutes later, I dragged myself back to the testing area.
Dr. Hayes looked slightly apologetic. "I may have gotten overenthusiastic. Commander Hill reminded me that you're new to this and I should pace the testing better."
"Hill told you to slow down?"
"She pointed out that breaking our only respawn-capable asset on day one would be 'counterproductive.'" He checked his tablet. "We have enough data for now. I can compile what we have and do additional testing later this week."
"Later this week. You're going to kill me again later this week."
"Yes, but in moderation! We'll spread it out." He pulled up a calendar. "Maybe just one death per session. Very reasonable."
"One death per session is not a phrase that should exist."
"And yet here we are." He made notes. "For now, you're done with medical assessment. Commander Hill wants you to meet with Dr. Garner next."
"The therapist?"
"Yes. Psychological evaluation. Standard for all enhanced assets." He pointed down the hallway. "Third door on the left. He's expecting you."
I walked down the hallway in a daze.
Two deaths before 9 AM.
This was my Monday.
I knocked on the third door on the left.
"Come in," a voice called.
I opened the door to find an office that looked surprisingly normal. Couch, chairs, bookshelves, a desk with a laptop. It looked like a regular therapist's office, not a SHIELD facility.
A man in his forties sat behind the desk. Glasses, professional but approachable demeanor, the kind of face that suggested he'd heard everything and wouldn't judge.
"Carson Lynn?" He stood and offered his hand. "I'm Dr. Andrew Garner. Please, have a seat."
I shook his hand and sat down on the couch, still feeling phantom tingles from the electrocution.
"I'm told you've had an eventful morning," Dr. Garner said, settling into his chair.
"I've died twice for science before 9 AM. So. Yeah. Eventful."
"How do you feel about that?"
I laughed. "How do I feel about being murdered by a government scientist? Uh. Not great? Extremely not great?"
"That's a valid response." He pulled out a notepad. "This is our first session, so let's establish some ground rules. Everything you say here is confidential unless you're an immediate danger to yourself or others. I report fitness for duty to Commander Hill, but not session content. This is your space to process everything that's happening. Understand?"
"Yeah. Okay."
"Good." He leaned back. "So. Let's start at the beginning. Tell me about the first time you died."