They never told us where we were going. The windows of the transport were blacked out, not tinted—painted over, thick and uneven, like someone had gone at them with a roller in a hurry. I could still feel movement, though. The slight vibration of the road. The long stretches of silence broken only by the engine and the breathing of the men around me. Six of us sat inside the back of that truck. No talking. No names. Just dog tags tucked under our shirts and a single man in civilian clothes at the front, watching us like inventory instead of soldiers.
I was twenty years old and already a corporal, which meant I'd learned two things early: 1. Promotions came faster when you didn't ask questions. 2. The more secretive something was, the more likely it was to ruin your life. I signed up anyway.
"Volunteer opportunity." "Extreme risk." "National security priority." That was all the briefing said before the ink dried on my signature. The truck finally slowed. Then stopped.
A sharp hiss as the air brakes released. "Out," the man said, calm and bored. The doors opened and cold air rushed in, sterile and metallic, like a hospital mixed with a machine shop. I stepped down onto concrete so clean it almost reflected my boots. We were underground—deep underground. The ceiling stretched high above us, studded with lights recessed into raw stone. Thick blast doors lined the walls, each marked with stenciled numbers and warning labels I wasn't cleared to read.
A logo was painted ahead of us. GDA Global Defense Agency. Everyone knew the name. Most people pretended not to. We were escorted through scanners—blood, retina, bone density, things I didn't recognize—until we reached a locker room. Gray walls. Steel benches. White uniforms folded neatly, each tagged with a number instead of a name.
Mine was S-17.
No ranks. No flags. No insignia.
That's when it hit me: whatever this was, it wasn't the military anymore.
suddenly a voice finally came over the intercom " All new arrivals Please proceed to the orientation room. follow the glowing green lights."
I guess they're not wasting time and getting us started right away...whatever the hell this is.
A woman waited for us in the orientation room. Blonde, mid-forties maybe, posture too straight to be anything but command. She didn't introduce herself. Didn't need to.
"You all know why you're here," she said.
"actually we don't." one guy said. Rugged he had the eyes that only those That have seen combat have. " I'm damn sure none of us do. The Docs you gave us was so redacted. the only things could make out was that this is a was a program to perserve national security." non of us said he a word we all just looked at him before he stopped talking.
"As you know. A little over a year ago. during a confrontation with extraterrestial. Invincible was wounded and had been recovering for the past year. This is the story that has been given to the media. And this what the public has been told. However the information you are about to hear is highly classified. Known only to a very strict few individuals. Invincible is gone. We don't know where he is and we don't know if he's dead or alive. no one has seen him, our best intel suggests that he's either trapped in a Alternate dimension or dead."
I felt a tightening in my chest at the name. Everyone did. Invincible wasn't just a hero—he was the hero. The main power house, that we could count on to go up against the baddest of the bad. The strongest hero we had. If not for him Omni-man would have taken over. So without him, compared to what else is out there. We are almost defenseless The woman continued. "Omni-Man left our world. After the battle with invincible that decimated cities like Chicago." A holographic screen appeared. Pictures of the devastation and death was being shown to us.
"During that fight we learned that there are more viltrumites the same race as Omni man and invincible and just as strong if not stronger. 'the viltrum empire and they are coming. We don't know how many and we don't know when but eventually they will come and without invincible or someone of equal or greater strength. Earth is vulnerable and hopelessly outgunned." She tapped a control pad. The wall behind her lit up.
Images flashed by: cities in ruins, satellite footage of past battles , a slowed-down clip of Omni-Man when he was still pretending to be a hero. And some of invincible when he was fighting. Then something else. Medical footage. Blood samples. suspended in glass cylinders. Red, but… denser somehow. Like pure red. "For years," she said, "the GDA has been collecting biological material from both known Viltrumites. From omni-man. And invincible. Small amounts. Carefully taken. Either from battle zones or during medical treatment" She paused, letting that sink in.
"We attempted transfusions. Gene splicing. Cellular rewriting. Every approach modern science could conceive." The images changed again. Hospital rooms. Men screaming. Bodies convulsing as veins blackened beneath their skin. Flatlining monitors. Covered corpses. "All prior subjects are deceased. Or ended in failure." No one moved. My mouth was dry. I could hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears. "So why are we here?" someone finally asked. The woman looked at us—really looked at us—for the first time. "Because the process doesn't reject everyone equally," she said. "And because desperation forces progress." She stepped aside as another door opened behind her.
Beyond it was a massive observation chamber. At its center stood a reinforced medical platform surrounded by articulated arms, IV lines, and containment fields humming softly. Above it, thick glass separated us from a control room filled with scientists. On a nearby screen, a single phrase was displayed: PROJECT SAVIOR I swallowed. I thought about the contract I signed. The bonus I'd never spend. The promise of "advancing humanity's defensive capabilities." I thought about invincible—lost in some other dimension, fighting forever, or maybe already dead. And I realized something then, standing there in that white uniform with a number instead of a name.
We weren't here to replace Invincible. We were here to see how many humans it took to fail before one of us didn't. We were lab rats lives to be thrown at a dart board until one of us didn't flat line. No wonder they had us list final wishes and next of kin. The huge bonus that would go to our families. All that crap about defending humanity was bullshit.
The room stayed quiet after that realization settled in. Not dramatic quiet. Not the kind you get before a speech or a fight. This was the heavy kind—the kind where nobody wants to be the first to acknowledge the truth out loud. One of the volunteers—a sergeant by the look of his posture, even without insignia—shifted his weight. His jaw was clenched so tight I could see the muscles jumping. "So what happens now?" he asked. The woman didn't hesitate. "Now you undergo the final evailuation." The lights dimmed slightly as the observation chamber came to life. Mechanical arms adjusted their positions with precise, insect-like movements. Monitors flickered on, displaying biometric readouts I didn't understand—heart rate variability, cellular rejection probability, genetic compatibility indexes. Numbers scrolled next to each of our assigned IDs.
S-12
S-03
S-29
Then mine appeared. S-17 A yellow indicator blinked beside it.
The woman noticed. " so you coats already know?" I asked before I could stop myself. Her eyes shifted to me. Cool. Calculating. "Know what, Corporal Ferris?"
She knew my name. Of course she did. "That some of us are already more… compatible than others."
A murmur rippled through the group. The woman regarded me for a long moment, then gave a thin smile. "Compatibility is a misleading term," she said. "You either survive the initial integration… or you don't."
She looked at all of us "If either of you Wish to leave Now is the time. But please know If you leave there will not be any bonuses issued to either you or your next of kin you will be promptly Removed and have all memories of this faucility erased."
" we will not force this one anyone." she continued. " each of you were selected and approached for your background and experiece. but most importantly each of you have demonstated the will, to lay down your life in the service of the greater good." " We all looked at each other. I guess each of us had a damn good reason to throw our lives away. Or just had nothing to lose because nobody left.
The yellow indicator next to my ID turned orange. I felt every eye in the room move to me. They took us one at a time after that. Medical rooms branched off from the main chamber, each identical—white walls, sterilized air, the low hum of machines that never stopped working. The first volunteer, S-03, went in confident. Tried to joke with the techs. Asked if he'd be able to fly.
He didn't come out.
The second screamed.
I couldn't see what was happening inside, but I could hear it we all could through the walls—bone-deep, animal screams that cut off too suddenly. The kind of sound you don't forget. The kind that follows you into sleep.
Maybe they intend for us to hear it. Flatline tones echoed faintly through the facility. One by one, the indicators next to the remaining IDs turned red. Except mine. Orange. Hours passed. Or minutes. Time got slippery down here. Eventually only three of us were left. The sergeant. A kid who couldn't have been more than eighteen. And me.
They took the kid next.
The scream barely lasted ten seconds. When it was my turn, no one said anything. They led me into the room and had me lie down on the platform. " please remove your clothes all besides your upper and lower garments please." One of the scientist said. Felt a little weird but I didn't complain.
The surface was colder than it looked, molding to my back as restraints snapped into place around my wrists, ankles, chest, and neck. Clear bands, reinforced with something that shimmered faintly under the lights. A technician leaned over me, avoiding eye contact. "Any allergies?" he asked. I laughed.
I couldn't help it. "No," I said. "Just… dying, I guess." He didn't laugh back.
An IV needle slid into my arm. Then another. Clear fluid first—sedatives, stabilizers, things meant to keep my organs from liquefying under stress. My heart rate spiked anyway. I could feel it pounding against my ribs, desperate and loud. Above me, a containment cylinder descended slowly.
Inside it was a red liquid. guess its the shit thats going to kill me. blood? It didn't look like blood anymore up close. It was thicker, darker, moving in slow, deliberate currents like it was alive all on its own.
"This sample was taken from Invincible," the woman's voice said over the intercom. "During his final recorded medical treatment." " subject is patient S-17. Corporal Michael Ferris. United States Army. Age 21. Genetic compatibility is measured at 13.5% highest we've seen so far. Serum is version I-V3 prime.
Now beginning genetic fusion test # 210" Final. The word stuck in my head. The cylinder opened. The first injection I felt nothing like just like getting a regular blood transfusion. I was relieved and then it started. My muscles felt like they were burning! Not like fire. Like pressure. Like my veins were being filled with something that didn't belong there and knew it. My vision blurred instantly, lights stretching into streaks as alarms began to wail.
"Heart rate unstable," someone said. I tried to breathe. Couldn't. But I gasped and refused to quit. If I was going to die. I wasn't going to die easy. I clenched my fists and forced every breath. Breathing was no longer an involuntary action. I had to force every gasp.
" subject is unstable but still responsive." Another said. " Begin second injection." The second injection felt like my bones were being pulled apart from the inside.
I screamed—no dignity, no restraint—until my throat burned raw.
My muscles seized, locking me in place as something was tearing me apart from the inside. I felt my heart stop. Then start again. Harder. Stronger. Something snapped deep in my chest, not breaking—unlocking. I heard shouting. Felt restraints strain as my body arched against them. The platform cracked beneath me, hairline fractures spiderwebbing through reinforced alloy.
"Blood integration at forty percent—no rejection!" "His vitals are erratic but viable! "
I couldn't hear them clearly anymore. Everything sounded distant, muffled under a roaring in my ears. " We need to keep Pushing, If we don't we'll just end up with another knock off! and that was the last bit of original specimen I-V3. We had! It's all or nothing! Give him the last injection!"
I knew that with absolute certainty. Whatever was happening inside me wasn't killing me. It was trying to change me. And somewhere in the back of my mind, through the pain and the noise and the tearing sensation of evolution forced at gunpoint, " I don't want to die."
I thought before finally passing out.
Three weeks later.
I opened my eyes. My head was pounding and I felt like someone had just gone too town on me with a baseball bat. I could see a nurse standing beside me. Changing my IV Bag. " can i get some more pain killers please." I muttered they seem to have given me something some sort of sedative or maybe it was the headache that distorting me . But I could still see her expression. How her eyes widened at seeing me Awake quickly rushing out of my room. I slowly tried to sit up. But the moment I grabbed the controller for the bed I crushed it. I didn't mean too it just felt delicate like paper.
" what the hell is going on?'
i slowly began trying to sit up. before i heard a voice.
" good to see you awake corporal."
I looked up and and right at the entrance was man in a suit. with a very noticable scar on part of his face. a older guy shoot balding so much even heavily medicate i could see the light's reflecting. but I've seen enough to recognize federal when i see it.
"you gave us quite the scare, werent sure if you ever would wake up. how you feeling?" he continued. walking up to my bedside.
" I'm fine sir. who the hell are you?" I asked.
my name is cecil steadman.
"Cecil Steadman," I repeated, my voice still rough. "never heard of you."
A faint, tired smile touched his lips, barely moving the scarred tissue on his cheek. "good lets just say I'm the guy that handles the big problems, Corporal. And right now, my job is checking on our single, most expensive, and only successful investment in humanity's future."
He gestured toward the bed controller, now a mangled piece of plastic and metal in my hand. "As you can see, the investment is starting to pay off. You're stronger. A lot stronger. Your senses are sharper, too. I'm guessing. our boys at the lab tried adding in few alterations"
I could. It was a low, steady thrum in the back of my head, a rhythm I hadn't noticed until he pointed it out. I focused on it, and it grew louder, clearer. I let it go, and it faded back into the background noise. "What did you do to me?" I asked, tossing the crushed controller onto the tray table. It landed with a heavy clang.
"We didn't do anything, son," Cecil said, pulling up a chair. The metal legs scraped against the floor, a sound that made me flinch. "You did it. Your body accepted the Viltrumite DNA. It didn't just tolerate it; it integrated it. The others… their bodies fought it. Tore themselves apart from the inside out. You, on the other hand, adapted. Survived."
I looked down at my hands. They were my hands, same calluses, same scars, but they felt different. Denser. "The others… S-03, the sergeant…"
"Are gone," Cecil said flatly, no emotion in his voice. "Their families received the bonuses, as promised. As far as the world is concerned, they died in a training accident. It's a clean story."
A clean story. That's all we were. A footnote in a file. "So I'm the only one," I said, the weight of it settling in my gut. "The only lab rat that didn't die."
"You're the only one that mattered," Cecil corrected. "The first of a new breed. Project Savior's only success, so far."
He stood up and walked to the door. "Get up. Get dressed. Your clothes are in the locker. We have work to do."
I swung my legs off the bed. The simple act of standing felt alien. I expected to feel weak, to be wobbly after being unconscious. Instead, I felt rooted. Solid. The floor didn't creak under my weight. I walked into the adjoining bathroom and looked in the mirror. The face staring back was mine, but it was… more. The lines were sharper, the muscles in my neck and shoulders more defined.
On the locker bench was a new uniform. Not the white scrubs, but a suit. It was charcoal grey, a serious, utilitarian material that wasn't fabric, not exactly. It felt like a polymer weave, flexible but thick. Across the chest was a symbol: a dark, five-pointed star, stark and simple. No cape. No flair. It looked like armor you could actually fight in.
"Your suit," Cecil's voice came from behind me. "We call it the 'Savior-Class Battle Shell.' It's reinforced to withstand extreme velocities and atmospheric friction. The color scheme was a deliberate choice. We're not trying to be flashy. We're not trying to be a symbol of hope. We're trying to be a sheild."
I pulled on the suit. It fit perfectly, clinging to my body like a second skin. I felt powerful. Dangerous.
"What now?" I asked, turning to face him.
" now.... now you get to meet the team." he said