The sun had yet to rise when Black Ghost shoved their prototype cyborgs out into the testing grounds. There were four of them now, code named 001-004. Complete strangers from all different backgrounds, Black Ghost forced the group to work together, to fight their tanks and guns and helicopters, or risk serious punishment. With no other options, they obeyed. None of them ever knew for sure how long each trial lasted, but by now the sun was high in the sky.

Albert, now known as 004, had pushed himself too hard all morning. His body was falling apart, and slowly he fell into a familiar routine: fight, break something, surgery, more fighting, more breaking, more surgery. Part of him hoped after each malfunction that they wouldn't be able to bring him back next time. Of course, the other part of him wanted to protect those two teenagers and the baby, so he forced his strange, metal body to press forward.

Unfortunately, he found another piece of his new body was about to shut down. Albert woke up nauseous with his stomach aching dully, but it was slight enough to where he could force it into the back of his mind. Now brought back to his attention from the prolonged stress of the test, he found it harder and harder to keep up as he walked with the other cyborgs. His legs shook with every step until a sharp pain shot across his abdomen and stopped him in his tracks.

With a groan, Albert fell behind them and supported himself against a large tree. Jet didn't immediately notice, too absorbed in his own thoughts about their next move. Francoise put a gentle hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"004?" She said softly. "Is everything alright?"

"Oh boy, what's broken this time? You look like hell." Jet voiced his concern in his own blunt, American way.

"Ugh..." The German slipped an arm over his midsection and tried his best to breathe. "I'm not sure...but something's wrong...my stomach..." He trailed off as he panted weakly, his face contorted with pain. Francoise shot him a sympathetic gaze, then closed her eyes as if she was searching for something. Jet only shifted nervously and took a slight step back.

"Y-you're not gonna puke now, are ya...?"

"Probably..." Even at a time like this, Albert felt a slight smirk on his face. "Why? Don't tell me...the big tough American...is squeamish..."

"What?!" Jet growled, but the slight waver in his expression was undeniable. "Listen here, I'm not-"

"Quiet, both of you." Francoise cut in. "There's a cave not far from here in the south. The next wave of enemies shouldn't be too close by, we can take cover there to give 004 a moment to rest."

"Sounds good." Albert pushed himself up, but quickly discovered that he was too dizzy to walk straight. "Could I have a little help?"

Francoise and Albert both looked to Jet. The ginger glared at Francoise, but she only glanced down at the tired baby in her arms before staring back up at him. This was an argument he had already lost. Grunting, he stomped over, grabbed Albert's free arm, and slung it around his shoulder.

"Don't even think about barfing on me."

Albert only chuckled in response. He tried his best to make sure that didn't happen, though his stomach continued churning. The German felt incredibly grateful when they made it to shelter, and he was relieved at how cool it felt on the inside. Jet walked him over to the side of the wall and leaned him up against it. Groaning, he swallowed hard. It was coming.

"You may...want to leave now..." Albert warned, doubling over immediately after with a stifled gag.

"I'll go keep watch outside!" Jet said quickly and hurried out. If Albert had been in his right mind, he would have pointed out that Francoise was already here and they didn't need a lookout.

Now that Jet was gone he allowed himself to retch, tightly clutching his sore gut with his metallic right hand. He knew his stomach contained very little, save for what he choked down of the same bland meal bars they ate everyday. The contents of his stomach slowly climbed up into his throat, until it finally spilled down out of his mouth and onto the floor, splashing down slightly on his boots.

Albert immediately noticed something strange even through the haze of sickness. The stinging taste of acid flooded his mouth, which he expected. What he didn't expect was an overpoweringly bitter, sour taste, standing out quite clearly from the normal tang of bile. The German struggled to recall exactly what it tasted like, but it dimly reminded him of the stench of oil from his old truck. It made him choke and gasp harshly before throwing up another mouthful of the vile tasting liquid. It was at this point a soft hand touched his shoulder and started rubbing small circles on his back, a small but appreciated attempt at comfort from the girl.

Once emptied, his body wracked with dry heaves, unsuccessfully still trying to expel whatever made him so ill. Another minute passed before he once again regained control, coughing and sputtering and trembling slightly. Albert leaned back against the wall once he was absolutely sure he was finished, exhausted.

"004." A familiar voice mentally called for him. "004?"

"What- oh. 001." The young cyborg had said little since the start of the training session. Albert turned over to Ivan, and he noticed that he had Francoise's attention as well. He likely projected his words to the both of them. "What is it?"

"I sensed something strange just now. Could you tell me what your vomit looks like?"

He grimaced at the thought. Eugh. Taking a deep breath, the German man hesitantly looked at the shallow puddle between his shaking feet. He only glanced down for a few seconds, but it was long enough.

"It's...it's dark pink, almost a purple color. Is it supposed to look like that now?"

"I'm going to need you to stay calm," Ivan started, a sentence that instantly had the opposite effect. Regardless, Albert tried his best to listen. "You're vomiting the equivalent of blood. Something in your cybernetic organs is failing, probably as the result of more rejection from what's left of your organic parts."

"Oh God." He wondered how much longer they could keep this up, poking, prodding, putting Humpty Dumpty back together again after each rejection.

"What do we do?!" Francoise gasped.

"There's nothing we can do. We'll have to wait for Black Ghost to finish the test."

"I feel sick again..."

"Oh no. 004, someone's coming. I think-"

"Are you done in there!?" Called that familiar, irritatingly loud voice from somewhere outside the entrance. The young man still refused to come inside, Albert noticed. "We've got company!"

The deep rumble of tanks sounded in the distance, making their approach to attack once more. Albert groaned and forced himself to stand unsupported, but it hurt. He was so very tired...

"Come on, you can do it. If we stay here, we'll be cornered." Francoise tugged him on the arm and practically dragged him out of the cave.

Albert's focus wavered. Jet and Francoise were saying something to each other - saying something to him. He aimed and fired, mercilessly attacking whatever it was they had thrown at them next, but his reaction time was lacking. Nausea had already returned in full force, worsened by the fact everything was starting to spin. He fell to his arms and knees. Something exploded next to him, but it was faint, distant to wherever his mind was now. He retched until he brought up more vile, awful liquid, now fresh and vibrantly pink in color. The sound of Jet squawking with surprise and Francoise yelling his name barely registered in his brain, blank eyes staring down in horror before he collapsed into his own bloody vomit.

Maybe this time, he thought as his mind faded, he wouldn't wake up again.