WARNING!
This chapter contains self-harm, torture, and sexual assault. Most of the triggers for this story are located in this chapter. If you don't want to read this part, skip over the italicized portions.
. . .
Far East Branch Headquarters - Director's Office
The folder contained a massive array of documents and video files, all detailing information regarding the New Type. Reading over her biological documents more carefully revealed that she wasn't a New Type at all. At least, not originally. Her documentation listed her as a Long-Range type; Codename Deadeye… when did that change? And more importantly, how? He was even more surprised when he found documentation regarding the Managarm Project, and it's original founding members, his mother included. Their parents had known each other, very closely apparently.
But their relationship had splintered after his birth. Hiroyuki Hamasaki, Ichiro's father, believed that more data was needed. He was certain that they could build on their first success, despite the risk involved. Parting ways, he had gone on to continue his research with the assistance of her parents at the expense of 13 different pregnant women… and she had been the sole survivor of those horrific experiments.
Specimen 13.
As he continued to skim through her documents, he noticed a footnote hastily scribbled onto the bottom of her final status report.
"Overdrive?"
Recreational burst and overdrive. He hadn't the slightest clue what either of those terms meant… but they had apparently been problematic enough to decommission her.
"We aren't sure. Paylor is exploring some options, but we have come to no conclusions at this time."
"Hmph."
Soma returned to the screen, closing the documents. Having finished reading all he cared to know, he turned his attention to the video recordings. Bracing himself, he sifted through the video files, observing captured moments throughout her life.
. . .
A toddler crawled excitedly around the inside of nursery. She was giggling playfully as she chased after a motorized toy they were controlling. She moved at rather alarming speed for a two-year-old, zipping around the room. The researchers murmured amongst themselves, taking notes on their clipboards.
"Her motor skills are extraordinary."
"Yes… Let's keep her under close observation. I am curious to see how she develops."
. . .
A small child sat quietly on a lab table, looking bored with her legs dangling off the sides. Dr. Hamasaki stood beside her, gently holding her arm as he prepared to draw blood.
"Yuki, are we done soon?" The child whined, clearly growing impatient with her examination. The doctor only chuckled in response to her complaining.
"We've barely even started."
"But I'm boooored. When're we going to be finished?"
"As soon as you hold still."
"Fiiiine…"
Defeated, the child held stopped fidgeting and allowed him to continue with his work. Her head tilted slightly as she curiously watched her own crimson fluid fill the phials.
. . .
A lab room was in utter chaos. Researchers were fleeing from a little girl no older than 5. They scrambled and ducked behind desks as equipment soared through the room. She had taken an Aragami core from the storage room. She had been delighted by her new find.
But when they had tried to take it away from her, the little girl grew very upset.
Tantrums were perfectly normal for a child of that age… but with her genetic enhancements, such an emotional outburst was proving disastrous. She tossed papers and chairs in her irate state, sobbing over the loss of her beloved toy.
Dr. Hamasaki appeared in the doorway and quickly rushed to the child's side. It seemed that she had gotten away from him and he had been searching for her. The doctor quelled her rage with a gentle scolding and brought her rampage to an end. They agreed to give her a core they no longer needed in exchange for her stolen one. Hamasaki then left the disordered storage room with the child trotting happily behind him.
. . .
A pair of children wrestle around in a bedroom, laughing as the tumble across the floor. The boy easily pins the girl and taunts her, sticking his tongue out as she struggles beneath him. Laughing, the girl pushes with all her strength… and tosses the boy off of her. He flies over her head and bounces as he hits the bed. She shrieks and quickly scrabbles to her feet, rushing to his aid. He stares up at her as she leans over him and stares.
"Geeze… you're really strong, you know that?"
"I'm sorry, Ichi… I didn't mean to."
The boy blinks and stares up the girl who looks close to tears. Then, he smiles and bursts into a fit of laughter, startling her.
"I'm fine. Look!"
The girl pouts, puffing her cheeks in irritation, which only makes the boy laugh even harder.
. . .
Specimen 13 was in her containment chamber, pacing nervously back and forth in front of a NORN terminal, one of the only furnishings in her empty room. She pauses and looks at the screen for a few moments before resuming her pacing. She was waiting for something.
As the screen lights up, so does her expression as she bounds over to the terminal, stepping up on a stool to reach. A little boy is vaguely visible through the screen.
"Hi Soma! How was your day?"
. . .
An older version of Specimen 13 is standing in the center of the training room. She held her massive God Arc awkwardly in her small hands as targets appeared randomly around her. She fired sloppily, only landing around half of her shots. Growing frustrated, she dropped her weapon on the ground and stretched her arms. She didn't feel like practicing anymore. She hadn't wanted to do it at all in the first place.
"Specimen 13. You are not finished your training for the day."
"I'm tired. I don't want to train anymore."
"It is not up for discussion. You will continue your training until we see adequate improvement. Reload your God Arc and start again."
"No."
A small beeping sound echoed through the room as her collar sounded off in warning. Growling, she lifted her rifle into her arms and grudgingly returned to her target practice.
. . .
Specimen 13 is sulking on the bed in her containment chamber. A boy enters the room looking happy to see her.
"Hey, you're back! how was training?"
"Leave me alone, Ichi."
"Hey, what's your problem?"
"Nothing. Go away."
"I know what'll make you feel better."
"Ichi…" her voice lowers into growl as she loses her patience.
"Ta-da!" He pulls a small container of ice cream from behind his back. "I heard you'd be back soon, so I got you some - bwah!"
Her sour mood vanishes at the sight of the frozen treat. She leaps from the bed to hug him, unintentionally tackling him to the ground.
. . .
An even older Specimen 13 was once again in the training room. She had indeed improved tremendously… through the use of unorthodox methods. As a weapon, she could not be inaccurate. She could not be imprecise. She could not fail nor could she falter. When she did, she was punished.
Beep, beep.
"Ugh!"
She clutched her neck, gritting her teeth in irritation at the vibrating collar. As more targets appeared, she went after them, firing her rifle in every direction. She rolled to the side and hit a target to her right. She spun and hit a target to her rear. A new target appeared close to the ceiling, and she shattered it as well… but a new target appeared to her left that caught her by surprise. She turned to fire but lost her footing and the bullet skewed to the side and missed.
Beep, beep.
"Gah!"
"You must always be prepared for the unexpected. Mistakes in battle are costly. Start again."
Glaring at the researchers behind the glass, she reloaded her rifle and began the simulation again.
. . .
On the top floor of the testing facility, Specimen 13 lay strapped to a table as a researcher stood beside her with a clipboard. Another took a scalpel and placed it against her hip.
"Agh!" She screamed, flailing her limbs helplessly against the table as her skin was carefully split in two. The researcher observed as the wound slowly began to close. Once faded, she took down a few notes.
"Again."
"Aaaghh!" The scalpel came down once again, cutting deeper the second time. Another cut was placed a few inches from the first one. The layers of her skin were clearly visible as the sharp blade sliced through her skin like a knife through margarine.
The researcher took more notes as the wounds closed, at a faster rate than the first.
"I see… her recovery rate accelerates under higher levels of stress. Again."
"AAAGGHH!
A blood curdling scream echoed through the lab room, reverberating off of the walls. Tears fell freely as she was cut again… and again… and again. Until…
A crash was heard from outside of the lab room, followed by unintelligible shouting. Disturbed by the commotion, the researchers left her on the table, her wounds already closing. Her chest heaved with choked sobs as she lay alone in the room.
. . .
Specimen 13 sits quietly in front of the NORN terminal. It is late in the morning and she has finally been released to her containment chamber. Even her deepest wounds have repaired themselves, leaving no evidence of their existence besides the blood at the bottom of her shirt. She vigorously wipes her eyes, trying to dry her tearstained cheeks.
Her shoulders shake as a new wave spill from her eyes, forcing her to wipe them away again. Her eyes are tinted red and she takes deep breaths to calm herself. Her breathing steadies as the machine lights up, Soma appearing on the other side.
"Hey, N - Hey, what's wrong?"
. . .
Another medical examination. Specimen 13 struggled against her restraints as they drew blood from her arm. She was irate and uncooperative, clearly unhappy with her situation.
Beep, beep.
Her mouth opened, screaming with no sound. Her voice had been taken away from her. She fell still for a few minutes after the shock but quickly started up again, growing impatient. She gave a particularly strong pull and snapped her arms free, startling everyone around the table. With an opening, she quickly untied her legs and made for the door.
Beep, beep.
She slipped and fell to the ground, trembling from the aftermath of the shock. The setting was high enough that the pop of sparks was audible through the recording. Her motionless body was gathered and returned to the table.
. . .
Specimen 13 sits silently on Ichiro's bed, her eyes downcast and tired. She signs to the boy sitting next to her.
Ichi… can I tell you something?
"Sure. What's on your mind?"
I don't want to go to my examinations anymore. I'm going to run away.
"What?! You can't do that. Besides, you can't run away. There's Aragami beyond the wall, you know that…
I don't care. It's better than going back there.
"That seems excessive…"
Ichi, you don't understand.
"You'll be fine. Try to bear with it. The doctors say you're sick…"
She looks surprised at his response.
"You can't skip your appointments. I know it's scary, but you gotta be brave, yeah?"
Yeah.
. . .
A pubescent Specimen 13 lie strapped to the lab table. She struggled violently against the restraints. She was stripped from the waist down with only a white blanket shielding her dignity. A researcher approached with an oblong instrument filled with fluid. She shook her head and yanked against the restraints, trying desperately to free herself.
Beep, beep.
Her mouth opened in a silent scream as the shock coursed through her body. She twitched for a few moments and then fell still. Approaching the table, he slowly lifted the cover, brandishing the object. Her body erupted into a violent fit as they inserted the instrument. The reinforced restraints groaned against her resistance but held firm long enough for the technician to finish with her injection.
. . .
Specimen 13 sits quietly on her bed. Her eyes stare longingly at the NORN terminal. Soma didn't come today either. She waits for a few more minutes before walking to the terminal and shutting it off. Alone, she returns to her bed. Her body curls into a ball as she pulls her knees to her chest, sobbing silently into her pillow.
. . .
The goal of this experiment is unclear, as it had horribly wrong. A light swings wildly from the ceiling and chairs and equipment lay scattered throughout the room. Against the wall, a man lay unmoving. A steady blotch of red stains his white lab coat. Specimen 13 leaps around the room, glaring at the scientists and threatening any that approach. One steps too close and agitates her. She leaps and tackles him to the ground, her nails clawing at his face. Another tries to pry her off of him and is sent tumbling over the lab table. Another researcher arrives in the room, brandishing a remote control.
Beep, beep.
Her entire body jolts as she falls motionless to the ground. The man beside her is no longer moving, his face and neck rendered unrecognizable.
. . .
Specimen 13 lay on the table once again, stripped from the waist down. A researcher shocks her into submission as Rodrick and Samuel discuss the data.
"All attempts at fertilization have failed. Her body recognizes human sperm cells as foreign matter and devours them. A new specimen may be impossible."
The third researcher ponders silently as they try to find a solution. A large red bracelet adorns his wrist as his hand taps lightly against his chin. After a few moments, he returns from his thoughts, struck with inspiration.
"Bias factor."
Rodrick eyes him curiously. "What's your hypothesis?"
"The specimen has rejected all samples from biologically unaltered human donors. If she injected with samples containing bias factor, her body might not resist them."
"Well… the theory is sound. It's worth a few attempts at least."
Samuel interjects, shaking his head.
"We don't have any such samples on hand, and we are running out of time. We need another method of insemination, and quickly."
The three of them fall silent, trying to decide on a course of action. After a few moments, their eyes drift to the young woman on the table, still reeling from her most recent shock.
"…Hold her down."
The three approach the table, surrounding her and blocking her from sight. The two can be seen visibly struggling to hold her still as she frantically resists her assaulters. Her legs kick wildly against her restraints to no avail. She shakes her head wildly as the God Eater approaches the table, using all of his weight to hold her in place. The table quakes as she loses her desperate fight. Her protests go unheeded. Her voiceless screams go unheard.
. . .
An older Specimen 13 lay alone in her room, staring at the ceiling. Her eyes drift tiredly to the terminal and watch the screen. She is scheduled for yet another 'treatment' later in the afternoon, likely with more, different 'donors'. She stares at the empty screen for a few more minutes before returning her gaze to the ceiling. Her eyes fill with dread as they watch the hands of the clock move. It is almost time.
Tears slowly drip from her eyes onto her pillow. Her expression darkens, her eyes growing cold with determination. She walks to the terminal and punches the screen, shattering the glass no longer caring about her missing friend. She won't be seeing him anymore anyway. She collects a particularly large shard of glass from the pile and slowly returns to her bed.
She mutters something inaudible as she raises her arm, palm skyward.
A crimson stream appears along the length of her forearm as the glass slides easily across the skin. She winces at the pain but doesn't waver. She switches her arms, taking the glass in her other, bleeding hand. She slides the glass along her other arm, summoning a new stream of blood. She leans against the wall, a small pool forming in the center of her bed… then she sits up. Her face watches in horror as the wounds slowly begin to close.
She grabs the glass again and reopens the wound, trying to keep the blood flowing. She repeats the process on the other arm to the same result. She tries again. And again… but the more distressed she becomes, the faster her wounds heal. Giving one final attempt, she drives the glass deep into her wrist, nearly reaching the bone. Her body wobbles as she begins to slip away. She has lost too much blood. The glass drops from her hand and shatters on the floor as her body slumps to the side. She flops onto her pillow unconscious, the pool growing larger and larger by the second… until it stops.
A few minutes later, the researchers come to collect her, only to panic as they find her in her bloody, listless state. Her wounds have closed. She is still alive.
. . .
The video is timestamped roughly two years later, following the crash. Specimen 13 sits strapped to a chair facing a screen. Upon the screen is an image of Fida Ferrell, a young woman with dark hair and skin. Her brown eyes gaze lovingly at the large mound above her legs. She is eight months pregnant. Her hand gently strokes her swollen belly as she begins to sing. That song. That damnable song.
"Your name is Reaper."
She stares silently at the screen as Dr. Oguruma repeats the process again.
"You exist to obey."
"N-No… my name is… N-"
"Your name is Reaper."
"N-No… I'm…"
Her dull eyes stare unblinkingly at the video as it replays over and over on a loop.
"You do not think. You do not feel."
"I… don't…"
"You do not want. Your name is Reaper."
"My… name…"
. . .
Reaper stands across from Ichiro in the training room. Her dull eyes watch him as she awaits her orders. He holds his God Arc in an offensive position, but his grip is weak and his expression uneasy. He is clearly distressed.
"I don't want to do this."
"You are her handler. You have fought beside her. Now, you will fight against her. You will use all of the knowledge you've gained to your advantage. You must learn her movements, her patterns, her strengths, and her weaknesses."
"You said that if we brainwashed her, then I wouldn't have to… That was the only reason I agreed to do this!"
"Reaper. Prepare yourself."
Reaper immediately dropped into an offensive position, whirling her scythe dangerously.
"Ichiro Hamasaki. Prepare yourself. You must fight as though your life depends on it… because it will."
. . .
The list reaches its end, returning the terminal to the desktop. Soma stares at the screen long after the video comes to an end. His body is tense and rigid, save for hands which are clenched nearly to the point of drawing blood. He doesn't know what to think. He doesn't know what to do. The recordings answered every question he could possibly imagine, including her indefinite absence over the comm link. For years he had thought she abandoned him… but instead he watched her shatter the terminal in her room, thinking he had abandoned her. With his questions answered, Soma didn't feel the relief he had expected. He didn't feel the closure that he desired. He wasn't satisfied… he was outraged.
He tears his eyes from the screen, somehow hoping that that will help to erase the images from his mind. But it doesn't. Instead, his eyes fall on another disk at the corner of the desk, this one for audio.
"…There's more of them?"
Following his gaze, Johannes shakes his head. "No. It is addressed to Hamasaki's son. I had planned to give it to him during our next -"
Soma snatches the disk from the desk and turns away. "I'll take it to him. I need to speak with him anyway."
Storming from the room, he leaves the Director in the silence of his office.
. . .
North American Branch Headquarters - Lab Room
It was afternoon on the North American continent. A young man sat quietly atop a lab table, with machines monitoring his vitals. His light green eyes watch the researcher carefully as he collects a shimmering pink fluid from a container. He tests the needle slightly before turning to him.
"So this compound… you're sure it'll help?"
"If the trials are any indication."
"All right. Do it."
With a quick nod, the doctor approached the table. He reached his hand toward the patient, gently gripping his wrist. The doctor turned his arm to face him palm upward and inserted the needle into his vein. The patient winced only slightly as the pink fluid slowly sank beneath his pale skin.
For a few moments, all was silent and still.
"Agh…" He groaned, his muscles clenching as the compound attacked his cells. He could feel a raging battle overtaking his body on a microscopic level. He could feel his blood literally boiling as the medication forcibly halted its mutation. Then… he was still. Despite his rather uncomfortable reception, he didn't feel any different.
"Well…? Did it work?"
"Take a look."
The doctor lowered his eyes to the patient's wrist. He followed his gaze, eyes widening as he watched the dark tendrils in his veins start to slowly recede. He was stunned.
"…So the infection is cured?"
"Not cured. Halted. As of yet, we have not yet uncovered a compound to successfully reverse the stigma. So long as you use this regularly, at the very least, the infection should not spread."
"Thank you! You've got no idea what this means to me."
The doctor smiled at him as he placed his instruments on the nearby table.
"We will begin production of the compound this week. Within a few days you should have a reasonable supply to last you a while." He turned back to his ecstatic patient. "What do you plan to do now?"
"What I joined Fenrir to do. I'm going to destroy all Aragami."
"An admirable goal. If that is the case, then perhaps you can help us in return."
