Awakening in the lab pt 2

The chamber was dark except for the dim glow of countless screens monitoring the progress of thousands of subjects, each one held in stasis, their bodies barely alive as machines siphoned their mental energy. Rows upon rows of pods, filled with genetic "failures" like Troy, extended far beyond the limits of the room, their faint hum creating a dissonant symphony of despair. Above it all, silent and indifferent, the scientists worked. To them, this was just another day—a routine process in the ongoing pursuit of power.

Troy lay in his pod, his body drained to the brink of death, the familiar ache of life being pulled from him was dull compared to the intense pressure that now gnawed at his mind. Each passing second felt like he was being ripped apart, yet there was a defiant spark in his chest that refused to extinguish. It had always been there, buried beneath layers of agony and submission. But now, after thirty-one revivals, that spark had begun to burn brighter.

A lead technician, his face half-lit by the soft glow of his control panel, peered through the thick glass at Troy's body. He was silent, watching the monitors as they charted Troy's vitals. Normally, subjects in Troy's condition—those who had been revived so many times—would have flatlined by now. But Troy's readings, though weak, were still holding steady. It perplexed him.

"Look at this." The tech turned to his junior assistant, pointing at the fluctuating data. "His mental reserves should've been depleted ages ago."

The assistant, a fresh-faced young man still green in his field, leaned over to inspect the screen. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "That doesn't make sense. All the other subjects in his batch burned out at ten revivals. Their cells couldn't regenerate, and their minds collapsed. How is he still... functional?"

The lead tech shook his head, more intrigued than concerned. "It's anomalous. He's being drained to death, yet he keeps coming back. We're pulling more energy from him than the others ever could provide."

"Maybe he's defective in a different way," the assistant suggested, half-joking. "A freak of nature, maybe?"

"Or..." the lead tech mused, his eyes narrowing, "there's something about him we don't understand."

As if on cue, the machine hooked to Troy's head emitted a sharp beep. His brainwave activity spiked, a flicker of life surging through the decayed remnants of his consciousness. It was faint but undeniable—a pulse of energy unlike anything seen in a subject so far gone. The lead technician's gaze sharpened.

"Interesting."

For Troy, the experience was different. He could feel every ounce of his mental energy being drained, yet there was something new beneath the pain—a depth, an endless well that he hadn't realized existed within him. He didn't know where this strength came from. It was as if some forgotten part of himself was stirring, fighting to stay alive in a way that defied everything the scientists believed possible.

The spark in his mind—the voice he'd been hearing in the recesses of his dreams—had grown louder. Stronger.

"You are not done, Troy," it whispered. The voice was soothing, maternal, like a blanket against the cold reality he faced. "You can leave this place. Remember."

Remember? The word echoed in his thoughts, reverberating through the hollow spaces in his mind. But what was he supposed to remember? His life was a blur of pain and suffering, of endless cycles of death and revival. There was nothing before the lab, nothing but this existence.

Or was there?

His pulse weakened again, the machines screeching in response to his failing body. Troy's consciousness wavered, slipping deeper into the void. For a moment, the world around him faded entirely, and he drifted into the darkness. But within that void, something stirred. A memory, fragmented and hazy, began to surface.

He saw flashes of an ancient world—a city, bathed in golden light, filled with people who radiated power. He saw a vast temple, and inside, a figure stood before a towering gateway of energy. The figure turned, and Troy realized, with a jolt, that it was him. Or someone who looked like him. Someone who was him in another time, another life.

"You were once more than this," the voice whispered, her words clearer now, cutting through the confusion. "You were their hope."

Troy's breath hitched, the memory slipping away as the machines dragged him back to the present. His eyes fluttered open, the ceiling of the lab coming back into focus. But the memory lingered in his mind, sharper than before.

He had been someone important. Someone powerful.

"Flatlining," the assistant called out, his voice tinged with boredom.

"Prepare for revival," the lead tech replied, adjusting the controls.

But Troy didn't need their machines to come back. Not this time. Something inside him snapped. The warmth he had felt in the void surged, filling his chest with an unfamiliar energy. The spark that had been dormant for so long ignited into a flame.

The machines screamed as his vitals suddenly spiked, his body jerking against the restraints. The assistant jumped back, startled by the sudden change.

"What the hell?" he muttered, frantically typing commands into his console. "He's—he's not supposed to—"

The lead tech's face paled. "Impossible," he whispered, watching the screen as Troy's brainwaves pulsed with life. More life than he should have.

Troy's body convulsed violently, but he wasn't afraid. For the first time, he didn't feel powerless. The energy coursing through him wasn't being taken—it was growing, building inside him, like a flood waiting to burst through a dam.

With a final, deafening pulse of power, Troy's body relaxed, his chest heaving as he gasped for breath. The machines, overwhelmed by the sudden surge, shut down one by one, their lights flickering and dying. The room fell into eerie silence.