The first thing Jake felt wasn't breath—
It was the absence of it.
And that should've hurt. His lungs should've burned. He should've been gasping, choking
—but there was nothing.
Just… silence.
Something thick and warm pressed against him from all sides. It clung. Slid. Sank into him in a way that didn't make sense. It tasted metallic—like he'd bitten his tongue—and there was that sharp ozone edge, like the air after lightning.
He tried to place it.
Couldn't.
Because he wasn't tasting it with a tongue.
That part came slowly.
Then all at once.
I can't breathe.
The thought hit—and just hung there.
No panic. Not immediately.
Something else answered instead. Quieter. Deeper.
His body—if this even counted as a body—didn't fight. It adapted.
The gel around him pulsed faintly.
And somehow… that was enough.
It fed him.
Jake tried to move.
He reached for a hand—
—and there was no hand.
For a second, his thoughts just… stalled.
Then something in him shifted. Spread.
His awareness rippled outward, like he'd been dropped into water and become the ripple itself. Something soft brushed against a smooth surface.
Glass.
He stilled.
Not froze. Not exactly.
More like everything in him pulled inward at once. Tight. Instinctive.
What the hell am I…?
That did it.
Panic finally hit—sharp, sudden, real.
And then—
Memories slammed into him.
A penthouse.
Too big. Too quiet.
Floor-to-ceiling windows stretching out over the city.
His father's voice—always somewhere else, always busy.
The woman.
His stepmother.
That laugh she had when she thought no one was watching.
And the man with her.
Jake had walked in on them in bed.
Everything had just… stopped.
Shock.
Silence.
Then anger.
Then—
A shove.
The world tilted.
Glass shattered.
Wind roared past his ears—
And then—
Nothing.
Jake snapped back.
Too fast. Like his thoughts tripped over themselves trying to catch up.
'Did I die?' Jake wondered.
A pause.
No—
Yeah.
Yeah, I definitely died.'He concluded.
The thought didn't feel dramatic. Just… obvious.
So what the hell is this?
He pushed forward—no, flowed—toward the glass. His form stretched thin without him meaning to, spreading before snapping back like a reflex he didn't understand yet.
Beyond the tank—
Movement.
Figures.
Humanoid.
Too humanoid.
White lab coats. Clean. Precise movements.
At first glance, human.
At second—
Not even close.
Their skin had a faint blue tint under the harsh lights. Subtle, but wrong. And their ears… slightly elongated. Tapered.
Like something out of a fantasy book.
'Aliens'.
The word felt ridiculous.
But completely correct.
One of them stepped closer.
Jake recoiled without thinking, pulling himself inward into something tighter, denser.
The alien tilted its head.
Watching him.
Really watching him.
"Subject A-17 is exhibiting accelerated cognitive response."
The voice was calm.
Clear.
And—
Jake stilled.
I understood that.
Another one stepped in, tapping at a glowing panel beside the tank.
"Neural activity spike confirmed. This one stabilized faster than projections."
"This batch was engineered with adaptive neural scaffolding," the first said. "Higher survival probability. Higher… utility."
Utility.
Yeah.
Jake didn't like that word.
He pushed forward again, more deliberately this time, pressing himself against the glass.
He tried to speak.
"Hey—!"
Nothing.
No sound.
The gel around him vibrated slightly, like it almost reacted—but not enough.
The aliens didn't even flinch.
Of course they didn't.
He didn't have a mouth.
That realization hit harder than it should have.
Okay. Okay—think.
He forced himself to focus.
The room was too clean. Metallic walls, seamless panels, white lights that felt… surgical. Rows of tanks lined the walls.
Some empty.
Some—
Not.
He shifted.
To the left, something moved.
Not like him.
It had shape. Limbs. But wrong. Twisted. Half-finished. Floating like a mannequin someone gave up on.
To the right—
Another one.
Still.
Too still.
And just like that, it clicked.
These aren't just experiments…
They're failures.
Jake recoiled hard, his form rippling out of control for a second.
No.
No—he wasn't ending up like that.
Not a chance.
He just got a second chance and he won't let anyone take it from him.
The alien in front of him leaned in slightly, interest sharpening in its expression.
"Fascinating. It's reacting to environmental stimuli with heightened intensity."
A pause.
Then—
"Prepare it for the next phase."
Jake stilled again.
Every instinct he had—new, strange, not even fully his—went off at once.
Danger.
The panel beside the tank brightened.
The gel pulsed.
Then—
It started to drain.
Jake convulsed.
Not physically. Not exactly.
But something in him collapsed as the gel level dropped.
For the first time since waking—
He felt it.
Something close to suffocation.
No—wait—
He lashed out, slamming against the glass in wild, shapeless waves.
Outside, they just watched.
Calm.
Detached.
Like he was nothing more than a reaction in a test tube.
Something in Jake went cold.
Focused.
'They think I'm just an experiment.'
The gel dropped lower.
His awareness flickered.
'Then I'll prove them wrong.'
And just like that—
The panic faded.
Not gone.
Just… controlled.
For the first time since waking—
Jake stopped reacting.
And started thinking.