Victor Stone walked through the throng, shoving his way through the crowd. "Hey, Vic! How you doing?" someone shouted. Victor turned around, shrugging. "Fine, I guess. Nothing happening." "Great! Let's go!" his friend replied, dragging him to the nearby coffee shop. Victor looked up. "Listen, Sam. Just listen, okay? I. . .I was signed up for an experiment. Like, two hours from now. So. . .I gotta jet." "Whoa, wait, what?! Vic, you, like, never told me! What happened to sneaking into that hot new club and meeting Chelsea?" Sam looked panicked, paler than Victor had ever seen him. It wasn't everyday that people were picked for the experiments, but they were dangerous. Nobody had escaped with their lives, and the ones who tried to run were killed on sight. No one got out of the facility. They let you in, but you were in tight lockdown upon entrance. That was all Vic knew.
Victor started to reconsider. "Well. . .well. . .you know. . .Uh. . .? Yeah. I can't wait. That's. . .oh." A feeling of dread crept into Victor's gut. "C'mon. Not even for Chelsea? You know she likes you. . ." Sam wheedled. Victor choked on his coffee. "What?! No, uh, well, um. . ." he stuttered. Victor blushed. "I've gotta go." He had to get out of there before Sam managed to change his mind. He ran out of the coffee shop. He checked his watch. "Well, better get going, then. C'mon, Vic, let's get out of here," he whispered to himself. He felt guilty at not meeting Chelsea, but he had to do this. He couldn't feel safe unless. . .He had to go through with the experiment. Otherwise, he'd spend his days being worried about being hunted, his nights scavenging food and fresh water, and looking for a place to hide in the day. He straightened.
"No, Sam. I have to do this." "Why'd they pick you? You were just a name in millions, no, trillions! What're the odds?" Sam asked, confused. "Well. . .they just wanted me, I guess." "No, Vic. 'I guess' isn't good enough. I want your honest answer." Sam's tone was calm, but there was a steel edge. Vic felt as if he were walking the edge of a knife. One wrong move, and he'd be cut deep, sliced in half. He chose his next words carefully. "Sam. . .You know I can't try to run," Victor said, still evading the question. "Me and Chelsea, we can hide you! We can sneak out to clubs, still pickpocket, you know. Everything we used to do! Just, you know, sneakier." Victor put a firm hand on Sam's shaking ones. "Sam. I. Can't. Stay." Sam, for the first time Victor had seen him, let a tear slip out. "Please, don't," he whispered weakly, clutching Victor's hand. Victor was sad too, but he couldn't show it. He had to be the strong, tough guy everyone knew.
He pried Sam's hand away. "I've got to. You'll see me later, though, okay?" "Yeah, sure. No prob," Sam replied shakily. Both of them knew it was an empty promise. No one had survived. Victor pushed his chair back. "See you later, buddy," Victor said quietly. Sam gave him a half-hearted wave, then grasped his arm. "Wait! I almost forgot." He fished a silvery-blue coin out of his pocket, and pressed it into Victor's palm, closing his fingers around it. "Here. Take it. I don't need it. Make sure you keep it hidden." Victor traced the edges, rolled it around in his hands. He smiled faintly. "Thanks, Sam. I'll treasure it." Sam grinned tearily, looking about to cry. "Go, before I change my mind." Victor walked out the door and towards the laboratory.
"Victor Stone," he said into the monitor. It beeped in response, and replied, "Pulling up data on 'Victor Stone'. Please wait." He tapped his foot anxiously. "Data found. You may proceed." Victor cursed. He'd hoped that it would've rejected his data, because then he couldn't continue with the experiment. He stepped forward, and steel doors slid open. A woman in bright white clothes waited for him inside. "Hello, Victor. You are in Experiment Room A113." She sounded almost robotic. He nodded grimly, and started to trudge forward. She laid a hand on his shoulder. "Honey? You can. . .well. . .this experiment might not be as bad as you think. They've finally figured out the right combination." Victor allowed himself the slight hope that he might make it out alive, might see Sam and Chelsea again.
The woman's voice came on over hidden speakers. "The experiment will commence in thirty seconds. Please voice any concerns now." He yelled, "Uh, let's see, I don't wanna be here, I'm a little apprehensive of dying, and. . .oh, yeah! I'd like to be let out now!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. "Point taken. We will let you leave." Victor stepped back in surprise. "What?" "If you survive, yes, we will let you leave." His shoulders slumped. Of course. Get their hopes up, and then crush 'em like a bug. He turned suddenly as a blindingly white light exploded behind his back. He blacked out.
He woke, feeling. . .different, lying down in a hospital-like bed. "What? I. . .I'm alive?" he said to himself wonderingly. "Yes, you are alive. You are the first to live. You'll need to take the blue tablet." The woman was back, albeit looking slightly surprised. "You're the first to have survived. We are looking into your factors, but you are exactly the same as everyone else who came in here. . .Except for this." She pointed at a schematic of his body, and Victor's blood ran cold. It showed a little silvery-blue circle hidden in his jeans pocket. "Where did you get this?" she asked, a dangerous edge to her tone. "It's. . .a gift from a friend," Victor replied, confused.
"The truth, please, Mr. Stone." Victor's blood started to boil. "That is the truth!" he yelled, finally snapping. "I got it from my friend Sam!" he covered his mouth. He hadn't been told to keep Sam's name a secret, but he suddenly felt it was a very bad idea to reveal it to this woman. The woman's eyes narrowed. "Sam? As in, Samuel Aelin?" she queried, a snarl tipping her voice. "Yes. . ." Victor said. She called, "Tablet, please." A blue tablet was placed in her hand, and she held it out towards Victor. He closed his mouth, pursing his lips. He shook his head adamantly. She sighed. "I had hoped it wouldn't come to this." She snapped her fingers, and two metal arms came and held open Victor's mouth.
She shoved the tablet inside, and the numbing sensation crashed over him in waves. He struggled, but his mouth went slack. "Now, I'm sure you're wondering why we have to give you numbing medicine. Well, that's because, if we didn't, you'd be screaming in excruciating pain right now. You see, even though you survived, you still injured yourself very severely, and that resulted in the loss of several body parts." He pulled up his arm, very jellylike, and almost screamed like a little girl. "What. . .what. . .What did you do to me?" he asked in a shaky voice, as almost as shaky as his arm.
His arm was completely metal, and, when he stood up and looked in the mirror, he saw his whole body except for half of his head had been replaced by metal. If Sam sees me, he's gonna call me Chrome Dome and it'll stick for sure! "Your new name is Cyborg."
Cyborg walked through the streets, searching for Sam's house. He located the number and knocked on the door. His arm rang, and he realized he would have to get used to the sound. Sam opened the door, and said, "May I help you?" in a sleepy and slightly annoyed tone of voice. He'd been fitted with a large grey sweatshirt, extra large jeans, and clean white sneakers to cover his metal body. "It's me, Sam." Sam gasped, suddenly looking much more awake. "Vic? Wha. . .what. . .how. . .?" he gagged, looking at him. "C'mon. Let's. . .let's go to my room." "Nah. I. . .well. . .y'know. I'd rather not take off my shoes." "Okay, well, we can take your sweatshirt."
Cyborg sighed inwardly. Well, he's gonna find out eventually. He said, "I'll take it off inside." "Okay, let's go!" Sam replied, super excited to see his best friend Victor alive and well. Once in his room, Cyborg took off his hood. Sam gaped, and tripped over his floor, grabbing for something to hold onto. "What happened to you, Vic?" "It's Cyborg, now, actually." Cyborg's face burned as he turned to leave. "I'd better get going," he said, backing up. Sam recovered. "Hey, wait, no! It's. . .it's fine! I've just gotta get used to it."
Cyborg said, "Yeah. . .well, I'm being relocated, so. . ." Sam looked at him. "Really? No! Why? They. . .they can't do that!" "Actually, Sam, they can. I'm a college student, so I can either stay here or -" "Go to the Unlivable Land!" "- Yeah, New York. Anyways, they're sending me there, probably because they don't want anyone to know that I actually survived." "Yeah, but they've sent all the bodies back when they fail. I mean, it'll still be pretty obvious." "Oh, yeah. A kid with no parents and next to no friends will be missed. Yeah, I doubt that." A look of hurt flashed across Sam's features, and Cyborg temporarily felt bad. "Well. . .I've gotta go. I don't have a choice, Sam." He looked furtively around. "I shouldn't even be here. I'm supposed to be packing. They don't want anyone, and I mean anyone, to know someone survived, to give them that hope. Much less a street kid. You need to run, Sam. Take Chelsea. Maybe then you can escape somewhere." "Yeah. . .sure." Cyborg's phone bleeped suddenly.
He turned pale. "Well, now they've got something to tell me. Gotta go, Sam." Cyborg trudged out the door. Upon entering the laboratory, he was escorted to his professor's office. "You have been selected to join a team called the Teen Titans. Upon arrival, you will be taken to a T-shaped tower, and will be made to feel at home. Are we understood?" Cyborg hung his head. "Yes ma'am." "Good. Your plane will arrive at four o'clock tomorrow morning." Cyborg nodded and finished packing. He boarded and arrived at New York at six o'clock the next night.