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Sam woke to the sound of machines whirring.
His eyes fluttered open slowly, adjusting to the stark brightness around him. As his vision cleared, he was startled to see several figures surrounding him. Panic surged through him—he tried to move, to run—but his limbs refused to obey. His arms and legs were tightly bound to the bed.
"He's awake," one of the figures said.
"Yes, he is," another replied.
"But shouldn't the anesthetic have lasted longer?"
"Maybe it's because of his genes."
"So… does that means 'his' work was a success?"
The people in white coats murmured among themselves. One of them—a man with an eccentric appearance—nodded decisively. "Let's report this for now."
One of the men exited the room, while the others continued to observe Sam, as if disappointed by something. Sam was still disoriented when a woman entered the room, followed by the man who had just left.
She stepped closer, and the others immediately moved aside, bowing their heads with reverence. The sight sent a chill down Sam's spine.
She was stunning, seemingly in her late twenties, with sleek hair that just brushed her shoulders. She had the commanding presence of a seasoned leader—calm, composed, but cold. One look into her eyes felt like staring into an endless abyss.
For some reason, she reminded Sam of his grandmother. His expression shifted, and guilt washed over him. He had always blamed himself for not being by her side when she died. His foster grandmother had been a kind, loving soul who raised him as her own. Despite not being related by blood, Sam had never felt out of place in her care. Even when things got hard for Sam in school she was there for him at home with dishes that made Sam forget of all the pain he had endured till now.
The only resemblance between the woman before him and his grandmother was the short hair. But that was enough to stir memories—and grief.
"We will give you an explanation," the woman said coolly.
Sam blinked, only now realizing tears were trailing down his cheeks. She turned toward the door. "Untie him," she ordered as she walked out.
A collective sigh of disappointment escaped the others. They looked like scientists who had just lost their prized specimen.
Once unbound, Sam sat up slowly. A tingling sensation shot through his limbs as blood returned to them, making his legs feel oddly light. He finally got a chance to observe the room.
It was sterile and blindingly bright. A faint scent of new metal permeated the air, masking a subtler, darker undertone—blood. Strange-looking devices surrounded him, some resembling props from a science fiction film. The whole room felt futuristic, unreal.
Through the glass panes, Sam could see more people in white coats moving with purpose.
"Wow…" he muttered, overwhelmed.
"Follow me," one of the men said.
Sam complied, still in a daze, as they led him through a corridor lined with strange, labeled rooms: "Anti-Gravity Chamber," "Torture Room,"...It was like walking through a nightmare built by scientists with too much power and too little empathy. A bit different from what Sam was familiar with.
They finally stopped in front of a door labeled Director's Office.
"You'll learn everything inside," one of the men said, almost reassuringly.
Sam noticed that some of them still wore disappointed looks. Feeling their eyes on him, he quickly slipped into the office.
To his surprise, it was nothing like the rest of the facility. The earthy scent of fresh soil replaced the metallic tang of the labs. Potted plants filled the corners, and bookshelves lined the walls. It looked almost… normal.
"A very normal-looking room," Sam thought.
"You've come," a voice said from behind the large chair at the desk.
Click.
The chair turned slowly, revealing the same short-haired woman. Again Sam was astonished by her beauty but he didn't have the time nor courage to think clearer.
Sam swallowed hard and nodded.
"Take a seat," she said, gesturing toward a couch near the bookshelf.
He sat cautiously, still unnerved by her presence. How could someone so composed control a group of terrifying scientists so easily?
She studied him for a moment before speaking again.
"So, Sam… where do you want to begin? Your real parents? Your foster family? Or ...us?"
Fear tightened in his chest. He hesitated, then finally asked, "Who are you people?"
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