017. Extremis

In the depths of unconsciousness, John Doe (formerly Jiang Chen) felt as if he were engulfed in flames. These were no ordinary flames—he could feel them altering his body in ways that were impossible to perceive on the surface. It was a sensation that bordered on agony, as though his very essence was being remolded.

Just when the pain seemed unbearable, he was jolted awake.

His eyes blinked open to reveal a small, sterile space—a research laboratory. Directly in front of him was a glass panel, reflecting his image back at him. He was naked, but what caught his attention were the rippling muscles that adorned his body. His once-average physique had transformed, and he now possessed eight rock-solid abs.

John frowned. Abs? I get experimented on, and now I wake up with abs?

Before he could fully process the change, he saw a group of seven or eight men in white lab coats. They were standing with their backs to him, engrossed in a discussion about the experiment happening in the next chamber. John's gaze shifted to the man inside that adjacent room—a burly figure writhing in pain.

The man in the chamber pounded his fists against the glass, desperation etched on his face as he screamed, "Please, let me out!"

The scientists ignored him, their focus solely on their tablets and readings. They exchanged words as though the man's agony was nothing more than a series of data points.

"Rage level at 20," one of the scientists noted. "Increase the anger value."

The man inside the chamber convulsed violently, as if electricity had shocked his body. His cries grew louder, morphing into vulgar curses. "FUCK! You bastards! What did you do to me?! Let me out!"

Still, the researchers continued, calmly observing the results on their devices. "Rage level at 60. Increase it again."

Suddenly, a red glow began to radiate from the man's body, his rage escalating. The heat emanating from him was visible, like a flicker of flames. John knew instantly what was happening. Extremis.

The man's entire body was consumed by the heat of Extremis, his skin and muscles glowing an unnatural red. "Boom!" The chamber exploded, and the man was reduced to nothing but a pile of flesh and bone.

The scientists barely reacted to the explosion, their initial excitement replaced by indifference. "Failed," one of them muttered.

John's frown deepened. It really is Extremis.

He had known about Extremis—a serum capable of regenerating limbs, healing wounds, and even producing fire from the body. It was an incredible power, but it came with severe side effects. The serum could generate immense heat during regeneration, and if a person's body was incompatible with Extremis, their anger would trigger a catastrophic self-destruction.

Most people injected with Extremis wouldn't survive.

Just then, one of the researchers noticed John staring at them from behind the glass. He approached, a man with a name tag that read "Ain."

"You're awake. You've been unconscious for a day," Ain said with a smile. "You survived the explosion. That's impressive."

John remained silent, taking in the scene. His eyes scanned the room across from him, where others—men, women, and even children—were held in small glass chambers similar to his own.

"Were all these people injected with Extremis too?" John asked, his tone cold.

Ain looked pleased, excited even. "Ah, you know about Extremis? Good. Then you must realize the potential here. The possibilities are endless! Once this research is perfected, its value will be immeasurable."

Ain's eyes gleamed with enthusiasm as he continued. "You survived a massive explosion, John. You're different. You're special. I injected you with Extremis. You should be grateful."

John's gaze narrowed. So that's why my body feels different. The abs, the power—it's all Extremis.

"But you do know," John said sharply, "that the side effects can cause people to self-destruct, right? Only a very small number of people are truly compatible."

Ain's smile faded for a moment, then he waved dismissively. "So what? Those are just numbers. I'm not concerned with the failures."

One of Ain's assistants interrupted, staring at his tablet with confusion. "His anger level is at zero."

Ain's face twisted in disbelief. "What? That's impossible."

The assistant hesitated, "He's been injected with the virus for 24 hours now, but... nothing has changed. His readings are unlike any other test subject."

Ain's eyes darted back to John, disbelief etched across his face. "No. It can't be."

In a fit of frustration, Ain grabbed the tablet and smashed it against the floor, pieces scattering across the sterile lab. "Failure! Another failure!"

Turning toward his staff, he ordered with a growl, "Inject him again. This time, double the dosage."

John, still sitting calmly behind the glass, let out a small chuckle, catching everyone off guard. Slowly, he clenched his fist and then, with a sharp motion, drove it straight through the glass panel in front of him.

Crash!

The supposedly indestructible glass shattered like paper. Every scientist in the room froze, eyes wide with shock. This was glass designed to withstand missile impacts—and he'd just punched right through it.

"You," John said, his voice laced with cold amusement, "have no idea who you're messing with."