you can skip the prologue this is my first time writing a novel expect it to have mistakes and make no sense once in a while ,please write reviews
Prologue
The first thing he became aware of was light—blinding, artificial, and sterile. It pierced through the veil of his newly formed consciousness, forcing him to squint against its harshness. A faint, rhythmic beeping punctuated the silence, accompanied by the hum of machinery. Slowly, shapes began to take form, blurry figures looming above him.
"Vitals are stable," a voice said, cool and clinical. It was a man's voice, measured and devoid of emotion. "Subject 37's neural activity is within expected parameters."
"Good. Increase the sedation by 10%. We can't afford any unexpected reactions," another voice responded, this one sharper, carrying an air of authority.
He blinked, his eyelids heavy and uncooperative. The figures above him sharpened into focus: white lab coats, pale blue gloves, faces partially obscured by masks. Their eyes were the only things visible, scanning him with detached curiosity. He tried to move, but his body felt alien—unresponsive, as if it wasn't his own. It felt smaller than he expected, fragile even, as if it belonged to a child.
"Can he hear us?" a third voice asked, a woman's this time, softer but no less clinical.
"Unlikely," the first voice replied. "Neural pathways are still stabilizing. It'll be hours before full sensory integration."
But he could hear them. Every word was clear, each syllable embedding itself into his mind. He wanted to speak, to ask who they were, where he was, but his lips refused to move. Even his thoughts felt sluggish, as if wading through molasses.
"What about the memories?" the woman asked. "Did the transfer succeed?"
"Preliminary scans indicate 92% memory retention. Subject's English proficiency and foundational knowledge appear intact, but comprehensive results will depend on the first diagnostic."
Memories. The word sent a jolt through him. His mind felt like a shattered mirror, fragments scattered and indistinct. There was something… someone… he was supposed to be, but the pieces refused to align.
"The subject's physical age is approximately three years," the authoritative voice continued. "We've accelerated growth for optimal adaptability. Begin preparations for initial capability testing. If the data is correct, he should exhibit measurable enhancements."
"Isn't it too soon?" the woman asked hesitantly. "The body might not be ready for that level of stress."
"We don't have time for caution," the authoritative voice snapped. "Cadmus operates on results, not delays. Power testing begins at 1800 hours. Ensure the observation team is ready."
The voices continued, fading in and out as exhaustion pulled at him. His body was still unresponsive, but his mind clung to fragments of awareness. This place, these people—none of it felt right. And yet, deep within the recesses of his fractured thoughts, a single truth began to form.
Outside the observation window, a sign on the wall read: "CADMUS."
-Few days later (MC's POV)
The past few days passed in a blur of physical tests—walking, running, weightlifting, and a range of basic exercises. I had grown numb to the routine, though the results always felt the same. I was just… normal. My movements flowed naturally, my strength average, nothing that set me apart from anyone else. I performed well enough, but there was nothing extraordinary about it. The doctors observed with detached precision, recording every detail, just as they always did.
"Subject 37," one of them called, his voice flat. "Finish the routine. Then you can rest."
I nodded silently, pushing through one last rep, my muscles burning but not giving in.
"You can go to your room now," another doctor said, breaking the silence.
I gave a brief acknowledgment before turning and heading down the sterile corridor toward my quarters.
But just as I reached my door, it happened.
BOOM.
The explosion rocked the building, the sound deafening as alarms blared around me. A thick, acrid smoke began to spill down the hallway, swirling at the opposite end. I froze for a moment, heart pounding, unsure of what was happening.
I tried to run in the opposite direction of the fire, hoping to escape through the hallway leading to the fire exit.
"Hey, Subject 37, STOP!" I heard a voice call from behind.
I came to a halt and turned around. A group of guards was approaching, coming from the opposite direction of the fire exit. A few other test subjects were surrounded by guards from both the front and back.
The lead guard, dressed in a slightly different uniform than the others, looked at me and said, "Follow me." He turned and began walking away, expecting me to follow.
I nodded in acknowledgment, moved toward the other test subjects, and began following him. The remaining guards stepped aside, allowing me to join the group.
But why were we heading in the opposite direction of the fire exit? Were there other evacuation routes or exits I didn't know about?
That differently dressed guard should be the superior/captain.
BOOM
The explosion rocked the entire facility. The force knocked me off balance, sending me stumbling into one of the other test subjects. Through the ringing in my ears, I heard screams and the sound of shattering glass. Thick black smoke began pouring through the ventilation system.
"Everyone down!" the guard captain shouted, but his voice seemed distant, muffled by the chaos around us.
I dropped to the floor along with the others, my heart pounding against my chest. The fluorescent lights above flickered ominously, casting strange shadows across the sterile white walls. Another test subject – I recognized her as Subject 42 – was trembling beside me, her hospital gown covered in soot.
The guard captain pressed his finger to his earpiece, his face tightening as he listened to whatever message was coming through. The other guards exchanged nervous glances, their hands tightening on their weapons. Something wasn't right. Even with my ordinary senses, I could feel the tension building in the air.
"Sir," one of the younger guards spoke up, "Protocol dictates we should be heading toward—"
"Protocol has changed," the captain cut him off sharply. He looked at our group, his eyes lingering on each test subject for a moment too long. "New orders coming in. We need to secure all subjects in Block C."
Block C? That was the high-security containment area. I'd only heard whispers about it from the cleaning staff when they thought no one was listening. My stomach knotted as I remembered their hushed conversations about subjects who were taken there never being seen again.
The sprinkler system suddenly activated, sending cold water raining down on us. Through the water and smoke, I caught a glimpse of something in the captain's hand as he reached into his pocket – not his communication device, but something else. Something small and metallic.
Subject 42 must have seen it too. She grabbed my arm, her fingers digging into my wet skin. "They're going to—" she started to whisper, but another explosion cut her off, closer this time. The walls shuddered, and chunks of ceiling tiles crashed down around us.
In that moment of chaos, I saw one of the younger guards – the one who'd questioned the captain – subtly shift his position. He was no longer pointing his weapon at us, but rather slightly off to the side, creating a narrow gap in their formation.
Was it intentional? A message? Or was I seeing something that wasn't there because I desperately wanted to see it?
The sound of heavy boots echoing down the corridor behind us made the decision for me. More guards were coming. It was now or never.
-moment earlier (POV Head Guard)
I watched Subject 37 join the group, trying to keep my expression neutral despite the weight of the orders sitting in my pocket. Eighteen years of service, and this was what it came down to. The memo had been crystal clear: "Subjects 37 through 42 have completed all necessary testing protocols. In event of breach or exposure risk, immediate termination authorized."
The facility's sirens wailed overhead as I led them away from the fire exit. Each step felt heavier than the last. These weren't just numbers – I'd watched them grow up behind these walls. Subject 42, always quiet, observant. Different from the others. No enhanced abilities, yet somehow more aware than any of them. Subject 39, with those haunting eyes that seemed to look right through you. Subject 40 and 41, the twins who'd survived the harshest battery of tests I'd ever witnessed. And Subject 37, barely more than a child, but she'd already endured more than most adults ever would.
"Sir, new damage reports coming in from Block A," Matthews, one of my younger guards, reported through the comm. I nodded, using the moment to study the subjects' faces. None of them showed signs of suspicion yet, but 37's eyes kept darting around, taking in details. Always analyzing. Always planning. Just like they'd noted in the observation reports.
The weight of my sidearm felt unusually heavy against my hip. The orders had specified Block C for the termination – minimal witnesses, easy cleanup. Standard procedure. Clean. Clinical. Just like everything else in this godforsaken place.
Another explosion rocked the facility. Closer this time. Part of me hoped the whole place would come down, bury all its secrets before we had to... before I had to...
"Sir?" Matthews again, uncertainty clear in his voice. "Protocol states we should be evacuating toward—"
"Protocol has changed," I cut him off sharply, but I saw something shift in his expression. Matthews was new, still believed in the noble scientific mission they'd sold us all during recruitment. He hadn't learned yet that "protocol" was just another word for following orders we'd rather not think about.
I reached into my pocket, fingers brushing against the cold metal of the specialized ammunition they'd issued us. Designed specifically for subjects who'd been through the full testing program. "Humane," they'd called it in the briefing. As if anything about this was humane.
The sprinklers activated, water mixing with the thickening smoke. Through the haze, I caught Subject 42's gaze. There was something there – understanding, perhaps. They'd always said this one was too perceptive for their own good. No enhanced strength or speed, but a mind that never stopped working.
And now I had to lead them all to Block C, where five more of my men were waiting. Where five more good soldiers would have to live with what we were about to do.
I shifted my weight, deliberately keeping my eyes forward. Sometimes the kindest order was the one you failed to carry out.
I could have killed them right then and there. Taking them to the containment area was unnecessary—this kind of lab fire and noise would have been monitored from the outside.
It was highly likely that this lab would be abandoned, a means to erase any trace of the experiments that had taken place here.
"Stop, you two!" I heard from behind.
Turning around, I saw Subject 42 and 37 trying to rush toward the fire exit. Derrick, our newest recruit, was shouting, his gun aimed at them, ready to fire.
I sighed. Orders were orders. "Eliminate them all," I commanded aloud.
The guards tensed and followed the order.
Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang...
All the nearby subjects had been eliminated. The only ones left were Subject 37 and 42. Derrick fired at them, but missed both shots as they exited the hallway and disappeared into another corridor.
I turned to Derrick and Mathew. "Go after them. We'll meet at the evacuation site afterwards."
Both of them ran toward the corridor while I, along with the remaining guards, made my way to the evacuation site.
-few moments before (MC's POV)
I looked toward subject 42 our gaze conveying more meaning than it probably should
In that split second of shared understanding, Subject 42 and I bolted toward the fire exit. The guards' shouts echoed behind us, followed by the deafening crack of gunfire. I felt the heat of bullets whizzing past as we rounded the corner.
"This way!" Subject 42 gasped, pulling me toward a narrow maintenance corridor. Her hospital gown was torn and singed, but her grip remained firm. More shots rang out, splintering the wall beside us.
"Stop or we'll shoot to kill!" Derrick's voice boomed from behind. The pounding of boots against the wet floor grew closer.
We sprinted through the labyrinth of corridors, each turn bringing us deeper into unfamiliar territory. The smoke was thicker here, burning my lungs with every desperate breath. Alarms continued to blare, their shriek mixing with the sound of our bare feet slapping against the cold floor.
"There!" Subject 42 pointed to a half-open door marked 'Maintenance Access.' We ducked inside just as another volley of bullets tore through the space where we'd been standing.
The room was cramped, filled with pipes and electrical panels. The only other exit was a narrow utility ladder leading up to what looked like a ventilation shaft.
"We have to climb," I wheezed, pushing Subject 42 toward the ladder. "It's our only—"
The door burst open. Derrick and Matthews stood in the doorway, their weapons trained on us. Steam hissed from broken pipes around us, creating an otherworldly fog in the small space.
"It's over," Matthews said, his finger tightening on the trigger. "Don't make this harder than it needs to be."
I backed up against the wall, feeling the heat of exposed pipes through my thin gown. My heart hammered in my chest as I looked at Subject 42, saw the same resignation in her eyes that I felt in my bones. After everything we'd been through, all the tests and procedures, was this really how it would end?
A deep rumbling sound filled the air, different from the previous explosions. The floor beneath us trembled violently.
"What the—" Derrick started to say, but his words were cut short by the horrific sound of groaning metal and cracking concrete.
I looked up just as the ceiling began to give way. Chunks of concrete and steel started raining down, the entire structure above us collapsing like a house of cards.
"So," I whispered, a strange calm washing over me as the world came crashing down, "is this how it ends?"
The last thing I saw was Subject 42's hand reaching for mine before everything went black.
Justice League Watchtower - Briefing Room*
The Watchtower was silent, save for the hum of technology and the faint echo of boots on metal. A holographic projection of Earth flickered in the center of the room, surrounded by various Justice League members who were quietly discussing their respective operations. The tension in the air was palpable, and there was a shared heaviness among the three figures standing around the table.
Superman, his cape gently swaying in the artificial gravity, was the first to break the silence. His face was grave, the lines of concern etched deeper than ever before. "He's alive. Barely."
Batman nodded, his arms crossed, his stance as stoic as ever. "But he shouldn't have been. He's only three years old. No powers, no enhancements—just a child." He turned to Superman, his voice low and careful. "You barely made it out in time."
Superman's gaze softened. "I didn't have much of a choice. The entire facility was collapsing. I found him under debris, unconscious and barely breathing. There were no signs of enhanced abilities, no indication that he was anything but an ordinary child. But he survived… purely by dumb luck."
Wonder Woman, who had been quietly listening, stepped forward. Her expression was one of both sorrow and determination. "I don't understand. Why would they create a child like this? What was the point?"
"Cadmus," Batman replied, the bitterness in his voice unmistakable. "They're not just creating soldiers. They're trying to create something more. They used Wonder Woman's DNA in combination with an unknown human source, perhaps with metahuman genes. But it didn't work as they intended. Subject 37 wasn't enhanced in any meaningful way. He's just a child."
Superman clenched his fists, the weight of the revelation hanging heavy on him. "Whatever they were trying to make, it was a failure. He doesn't even have the usual abilities we associate with metahumans. He's just... a kid."
Wonder Woman crossed her arms, her brow furrowing in thought. "What happens now? Can we even trust the data Cadmus gave us? Or was this all just another attempt to manipulate genetics to create a weapon?"
Batman paused, considering. "I've gone through the files. Whatever they were testing, it's clear they were aiming for something more than just a soldier. But it's too early to draw conclusions. Subject 37 is an anomaly."
Wonder Woman's gaze softened as she stared at the projection of the child, her mind already racing through the possibilities. "And what about him? What do we do now?"
Superman spoke up, his voice tinged with concern. "We take him to Star Labs. They're already prepping for a full evaluation. He's stable, for now, but there are still so many unknowns. If he's going to survive, he'll need more than just medical attention. He needs... care."
Wonder Woman's eyes locked onto Superman's, a decision forming in her mind. "He needs a home. A place where he's safe. Someone to care for him."
Batman raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. "And you're volunteering?"
"I'm not suggesting this lightly, Bruce," Wonder Woman said, her voice firm. "But this child has no one else. We can't leave him in the hands of people like Cadmus. And I'm not going to let him suffer because of their mistakes. If he's going to have a future, I want to be the one to give him that chance."
Superman nodded, clearly agreeing with Wonder Woman's resolve. "He needs someone who can guide him, teach him what it means to be human. Someone who can help him understand what happened to him."
Wonder Woman looked down at the floor, considering the enormity of what she was agreeing to. "I will take care of him. He may not have powers, but he is still part of this world—our world. He deserves the opportunity to grow, to be loved, to be... more than just an experiment."
Batman didn't reply immediately. Instead, he stared at the projection of Subject 37, the child who had survived against all odds. Finally, he spoke. "It's a dangerous world out there. Are you sure you're prepared for this?"
"I have no doubt," Wonder Woman said softly, her voice resolute. "I'll do what it takes to protect him."
Batman nodded, then turned his gaze to Superman. "We'll have to monitor the situation closely. Cadmus won't just give up. This is far from over."
Superman looked out at the Earth below them, the weight of their responsibilities pressing down on him. "I'll keep an eye on things. But for now, he's in good hands."
With that, the meeting ended. Batman left in silence, his mind already working through the next steps. Superman lingered for a moment, giving Wonder Woman a look that said more than words ever could.
Star Labs - Medical Bay*
Subject 37 lay on a sterile examination table, his small frame still bruised and battered from the harrowing escape. He was hooked up to machines, their soft beeping providing a rhythm to the otherwise quiet room. His breathing was shallow, but steady. The medical staff at Star Labs worked swiftly, scanning his vitals and administering the necessary treatments.
The door to the room opened, and Wonder Woman entered quietly, her presence commanding yet gentle. She approached the table, her eyes softening as she looked down at the child who had been through so much.
His eyes were closed, his face pale, and he looked fragile—too fragile for everything he had endured. She reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead, her fingers lingering for a moment as if trying to reassure herself that he was truly alive.
"He's stable," a doctor said, approaching her. "But the next 24 hours are critical. We need to monitor his condition closely."
Wonder Woman nodded, her expression calm but filled with resolve. "What about his injuries? Are they severe?"
"No permanent damage," the doctor replied. "He's suffered multiple contusions and minor internal injuries, but nothing that shouldn't heal. The most concerning part is his malnutrition and the mental strain. He's been through something no child should have to endure."
Wonder Woman's gaze never left Subject 37's face. "I'll take care of him. He'll have a home here, where he can heal."
The doctor hesitated before nodding. "We'll do everything we can. But he'll need time. A lot of time."
Wonder Woman smiled softly, her gaze filled with determination. "Then we'll give him that time."
As the child lay there, unaware of the world around him, Wonder Woman knew that this was just the beginning. Subject 37—no longer just a number—was going to be part of a new future. And she was going to help him find his place in it.
-MC POV 4 years later
"Damon, wake up! You're going to be late for school!"
The sharp voice pierced through the layers of my sleep, dragging me into the waking world. Groggily, I blinked my eyes open, squinting against the faint morning light filtering through the curtains. With a groan, I swung my legs off the bed, running a hand through my disheveled hair as I willed myself to move. Another day, another routine.
After freshening up, I pulled on my school uniform, the fabric feeling oddly familiar and foreign at the same time. Four years had passed since my rescue from the Facility, yet the remnants of my old life lingered like shadows in the corners of my mind. I tried not to think about it too much as I made my way to the dining room, my footsteps soft against the wooden floor.
Sizzle, sizzle.
The comforting sound of frying eggs greeted me, accompanied by the rich aroma of coffee wafting from the kitchen. I paused at the doorway, watching her work. She moved with practiced ease, flipping the eggs in the pan while humming softly to herself.
"Morning, Mum," I mumbled, sliding into a chair at the dining table.
She turned to look at me, her face breaking into a warm smile. "Good morning, sleepyhead. I was starting to think I'd have to drag you out of bed myself."
I gave her a half-hearted grin, my mind already drifting. The smell of the food and the warmth of her presence were grounding, but they couldn't quite drown out the unease that had been gnawing at me lately. School, normalcy, safety—all of it felt like a facade, a fragile bubble that could burst at any moment.
As Mum set a plate of eggs and toast in front of me, I picked up my fork and began eating, my movements automatic. She sat across from me, nursing her coffee and reading the morning paper. For a while, the only sounds were the clinking of cutlery and the rustling of pages.
"You've been quiet lately," she said, not looking up from the paper. "Everything okay at school?"
I shrugged. "Yeah. Just... tired, I guess."
She raised an eyebrow but didn't press further. Mum had a way of knowing when to give me space, and I was grateful for it. Still, I could feel her eyes on me, searching for cracks in my armor.
After finishing breakfast, I grabbed my backpack and slung it over one shoulder. Mum walked me to the door, handing me my lunchbox with a quick kiss on the forehead.
"Have a good day, Damon. And remember, you're stronger than you think."
I nodded, her words a faint echo in my ears as I stepped outside. The crisp morning air hit my face, waking me up fully. The world outside was alive and bustling, so different from the sterile, silent halls of the Facility. Yet, as I walked to school, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched.
Four Years Ago
The memories came unbidden, flashes of cold steel and harsh lights. The experiments, the voices, the pain. And then, the rescue. They had called me Subject 37, a nameless number in a sea of others. But Diana had given me a name, a home, a chance to start over.
Initially, it was awkward between us. Diana was patient and kind, but we were both navigating unfamiliar waters. She'd found a son where she hadn't expected one—a relationship that, in her own words, "seemed more fitting for men than an women." Still, she never faltered in her resolve to help me heal.
We had a small cozy home in Washington D.C.
In time, we grew into our roles. I stopped flinching when she hugged me, and she stopped treating me like fragile glass. Our bond became less about what we had lost and more about what we were building.
Those first few months were filled with discovery. Diana introduced me to a world I hadn't known existed—a world of extraordinary individuals with abilities that defied imagination. She called them heroes, but I could see the weight they carried, the sacrifices they made.
A lot had changed in four years. I was taller and stronger; Diana put a lot of emphasis on physical fitness in her parenting. She was an archaeologist of some kind and an art collector, which meant she tended to leave me with a babysitter often. But as far as I was aware, she did her best to ensure I didn't feel her absence too deeply.
It was one day, after I had just arrived home from school, that everything changed. I unlocked the door, tossed my bag onto the couch, and began unbuttoning my uniform shirt, ready to collapse into the familiarity of home. Then, it hit me.
A wave of dizziness washed over me, sudden and overwhelming. The room seemed to twist and shatter, the walls fragmenting like pieces of glass. My body began to glow—a faint, golden hue that grew brighter with each passing second. Panic surged through me as I stumbled forward, trying to call out, but no sound escaped my lips.
The world blurred, and then everything went black.