Author Romeru
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[ADAM] Chapter 8: Adam
🕑 Added 2025-04-02 20:28:58 +0000 UTCA few minutes earlier, somewhere in the Dome, Dr. Aniston—the doctor Adam had been running from—managed to locate two of her colleagues amidst the chaos. One was dressed casually like her, while the other wore a suit.
All three of them, however, shared one thing in common. They wore the same armor as the creeps who attacked Adam.
The Halos hovering above their head: Blue.
They were on the other team.
The doctor and her party didn’t mingle with the other creeps, instead staying away from everyone else. The man wearing a suit stood in front of them, and from the way he moved and looked around, he knew how to handle himself.
Her other colleague didn’t seem to be as confident, however.
“Are… are you sure we shouldn’t join the others, Doctor?” Hal muttered, standing as close to Aniston as he could without stepping on her feet. But Aniston just brushed her off with a wave and said,
“Can you relax, Dr. Hal? We have the Echo Smith, and not to mention the Duelist of Rose on our team. We are also at the Inner Crystal, I doubt we would even have the chance to be sent out,” she scoffed, her eyes darting everywhere as she looked at the faces of the people around them, “The only way the other side’s going to win is if they also have an S-tier Hero on their team, which I doubt.”
“That… that’s true,” Hal let out a slow breath. “The Duelist of Rose—we’re really lucky, an S-tier? I… heard the chances of that happening are almost close to none… If there was another one in the Game, people would start losing their minds.”
“That’s why I told you to relax,” Dr. Aniston sighed, “Bjorn was also summoned with us. And if he is on the other team and realizes we’re on different sides, then he would sabotage the other team. There is no way we are losing.”
“But… shouldn’t we at least be in the front? What if we end up not contributing anything and the Administrator doesn’t grant us points?”
“We might never even get our chance. Now stop overthinking and help me search for the subject.”
Dr. Aniston’s eyes continued to dart around, searching for someone. And of course, she was searching for Adam.
“That was our chance,” she sighed, her breath filled with regret, “That was our chance of getting it back, and this game just had to destroy it for us. No, even before, Zero was able to escape due to those god damn asteroids dropping at the wrong time and dividing our attention.”
Hal opened his mouth, but he was afraid to interrupt Dr. Aniston. But when he was sure she was done, he stood even closer to her and whispered,
“This… Subject Zero. I’ve only heard rumors about him,” Hal gulped before chuckling nervously, “Are… they true?”
“Which part?” Dr. Aniston scoffed, “You have the same clearance as me, you should already know all about Zero.”
“I was practically the same age as Subject Zero back then, and you were the lead researcher. And… the Hospital’s practically dead when I joined,” Hal scratched his chin, “I… just want to know what we’re dealing with here.”
“Mobilizing the entire secret service wasn’t enough for you to realize what we’re dealing with?”
Dr. Aniston sighed and shook her head, but after a few moments, she looked at Hal and scoffed.
“And you’re not the same age as Zero, Dr. Hal.”
“What? But the project started around the same time I was born. You created—”
Hal’s breath paused as Dr. Aniston suddenly cut him off, glaring at him with her eyebrows lowered.
“Created?” She whispered, her voice almost whistling, “We didn’t create Zero. We found it—him. We found him buried inside a catacomb from which we should never have dug him from. He was there, barely human. Just a slab of skeleton and skin. We thought he was a mummy at first, but then he moved.”
Dr. Aniston closed her eyes, “And like fools, we brought him—it home with us.”
“Catacomb?” Hal’s eyes widened, “Which catacomb? Where?”
“Rome.”
“Rome!? Then he is—”
“You’re not the same age, Dr. Hal,” Dr. Aniston did not let Hal finish his words, “We don’t know how old he really is, but he is older than me. Possibly older than this god-forsaken country.”
“That… doesn’t make any sense. But he looks like a child?” Hal slowly became confused.
Dr. Aniston did not answer him immediately, and instead took a deep breath. The guilt growing inside her was so big that you could see it etched on her wrinkles. She shook her head before finally whispering,
“Because he was. Doesn’t even have a single touch of memory in his head. He was a child—and that was our mistake. We didn’t treat him like a child. When we found out what he could do, we immediately treated him as an object, and we even gave him a name. We were so excited that we didn’t even know what we were doing to the poor thing… Patient Zero, Homo Nosferatus.”
Hal’s eyes once again widened, a loud gasp escaping straight from his throat. He needed to cover his mouth to calm himself down. It wasn’t until Dr. Aniston glanced at him that he finally removed his hand and said,
“Nosferatus…? So, it’s true? He’s a vampire!?”
“No, don’t be ridiculous,” Dr. Aniston quickly shut him down and glared at him, “We changed the name when we realized it wasn’t appropriate. He couldn’t do what we think traditional fictional vampires could do—he can’t control people’s minds, he’s not stronger than anyone, he can’t turn into a chiroptera, fly, or drink blood. He can’t do any of that. Other than his abnormal healing factor, he was… just a child.”
“Th—”
“He was just a child, and we did all those horrible things to him,” Dr. Aniston closed her eyes again, her lips trembling as she remembered all the things she did to Adam,
“Homo Immortalus, humanity’s greatest mistake. We created our own Frankenstein's monster.”
"Frankenstein," Hal narrowed his eyes, "Is that why he was being called Adam by the other doctors?"
"No," Dr. Aniston shook her head, "That was made by another doctor. The stupid doctor who freed him."
The two became silent after that, but after a few trembling breaths, Hal opened his mouth again.
“Fuck…” He gulped. But then he narrowed his eyes as he looked at the agent in front of them, “But wait, if he doesn’t have all those powers—why did we need all those secret service guys?”
“So we could capture him and kill him as soon as possible, before he gets chosen by the Game.” Dr. Aniston's voice turned weak as she looked up at the colossal clock floating on the ceiling of the Dome,
“Well, Murphy’s law. The worst that could happen finally happened. Tell me, Dr. Hal—if you were a child, and you’ve been trapped inside a darkness for so, so long, for god knows how many years. But then you get freed, only to be put in a cage even worse than before, where you’ve endured nothing but endless pain and torture. We tear apart your limbs, we burn you, we open your brain, stretch out your heart, grate your skin, drown you, starve you. I haven’t even mentioned the worst parts we did.
Tell me, Dr. Hal—what will you do once you finally gain strength?”
“That…”
“S-tier Heroes are already classified as people who could level entire cities on their own, and then there are the four Country-level Heroes. What do you think the Homo Immortalus could do?”
Dr. Aniston bit her lip to the point that it bled. She sucked in another deep breath and once again looked at the ceiling of the Dome,
“The Game, Dr. Hal. The Game is not the apocalypse—Patient Zero is.”
Hal did not even realize it, but he had been holding his breath for more than a minute now. He was at a loss for words, his mind racing through different scenarios, trying to find what to say.
And after a second more, he spoke.
“How… are you sure that he would take revenge? That was twenty years ago. He might not have turned out to be the way the hospital expected him to be.”
“A person who has only witnessed the worst of humanity will always come out even worse than what they’ve witnessed. Patient Zero will only turn out evil.”
“That’s… not exactly true.”
“It is. The fact that he’s high functioning and not mentally insane from everything he went through means that he has adjusted to the cruelty, Dr. Hal.”
“But what if he turns out to be a good person?”
“He’s not. Now let’s stop talking about this, and hope he’s on the Red team and the Administrators get rid of him for us. Once and for all.”
“...And what if he’s on our team, professor?”
Dr. Aniston stopped searching for Adam and turned to face Hal, staring deep into his eyes before muttering,
“Then I hope to all the gods that we lose and the Administrators burn us all.”
***
Somewhere else inside the Dome, at the same time, Adam’s mouth was covered in blood. Both his and Joseph’s. Joseph’s, in particular, flowed from his lips. But soon, he spat out the chunk of flesh and looked at Joseph and said,
“Your flesh is very hard,” he wiped down the blood from his face, “I… don’t know if veterans have more blood than normal, but you’re probably going into shock in a few seconds with the way you’re bleeding.”
A small groan whispered from his lips, “I didn’t want this. I’m sorry.”
Joseph stared in disbelief as he listened to Adam’s words. He pressed hard on his neck—but the chunk that Adam ripped off was too big, and his blood practically showered everywhere.
Joseph was confused, very confused.
Wasn’t this guy in front of him supposed to be dead? He saw him, his spine snapped in half right in front of him, and he looked like he had been run down by a truck.
What… was happening?
“I’m sorry. But you deserve this.”
Adam kept on apologizing to him, and yet right now, as Joseph stared at him completely covered in blood, he could only see Adam’s green eyes that were looking back at him. And it was deep, so deep that Joseph could feel everything else turn dark.
The strange thing was, Joseph could tell that Adam was being genuine.
And that terrified him even more.
He wanted to speak, to say something, but no words came. His vision blurred, darkening at the edges, and his head grew heavier and heavier, as if the weight of his own body was dragging him down into the floor and beneath it.
“I’m sorry…” Adam repeated, taking a slow step forward. “Please, just close your eyes and surrender to—Gukh!?”
Before Adam could finish his words, he felt a sharp pain stab through his back. He looked down, only to see that he was truly and literally stabbed by a dagger, pierced through his back and out his chest.
When Adam looked back, Donald was staring at him, terror frozen in his eyes.
Adam barely had time to react before he was sent flying again—Donald had kicked him, swinging his sword in a brutal upward arc at the same time.
The blade tore through him, splitting his chest and right shoulder clean in half.
Adam hit the ground hard, rolling several times before finally crashing into a counter again, his body slamming against it with a dull, sickening thud.
“Shit… shit!”
Donald’s breaths came heavy and uneven as he stared at Adam.
And when he saw that he wasn’t moving, a sense of relief crawled through his skin. The relief barely had time to settle, however, before Donald turned his attention back to Joseph—only to find his face planted against the floor.
Still breathing.
But barely.
Blood pooled beneath him, too much of it, his body already limp. At this point, even if Donald tried to help, it wouldn’t matter—Joseph was drowning in his own blood. He’s dead.
So instead, Donald turned back to Adam…
But Adam was no longer where he should have been.
He was right in front of him.
“What the—!?” And those were the only words Donald was able to utter before he felt a searing pain at the nape of his neck as Adam slid a knife through it. And before he could react, a little thud snapped in his ear—and then, he dropped to the ground, completely limp.
The snap he heard was the sound of Adam hitting the hilt of the knife with a tenderizing mallet. Veteran creeps were much stronger than normal humans, but they were still human and not yet as abnormal as the Heroes. They’re flesh, as Adam discovered when he bit through Joseph, could still be damaged by normal people, it just required a lot of force.
And in this instance, Adam practically paralyzed Donald instantly. But he wasn’t done.
With an almost eerie gentleness, he turned Donald onto his back and met his still-open eyes, staring into them.
Adam ran his hands over Donald’s armor, patting and checking for any openings. After a few seconds, his fingers found the clasps on the shoulders. It took a few seconds, but he unbuckled them and removed the chest plate.
Donald tried to move his tongue, to make a sound, a grunt, anything—but nothing came. His body refused to listen. His arms—he wanted to lift them, but nothing.
He was trapped in his body, and he could only watch as Adam placed the tip of the knife right on his unarmored chest.
“You’re still alive,” Adam sighed. There was no rage in his eyes, only exhaustion. “We don’t really die instantly, our motor functions just stop working, and then we die a little later. At least, that’s what I think. But I’ve never really died, not really. Right now, you’re paralyzed, and you will die soon. But don’t worry, okay?”
Adam smiled faintly as he set the tenderizer against the handle of the knife. It wasn’t a happy smile, but one of relief… for Donald.
Donald’s eyes twitched again. If one looked closely, they would see his head trembling, the only movement he could still make.
“I think I cut most of your nerves, but you will still feel this.” Adam’s voice was quiet, almost soothing. “You will feel this, and it will hurt. I made sure of that because you deserve it. It will hurt so much—but the thing that would hurt the most is the fear. The fear of knowing you can’t do anything even though you’re in so much pain. But I’m not a bad person like you, okay? I’m going to end your suffering. I’m sorry, okay? I’m so sorry.”
He apologized again.
And again.
His voice breaking, repeating like a broken record.
And then, he repeated the very same words he told Samantha,
“Imagine your favorite food, your favorite person, your favorite animal, your favorite place. Picture yourself there, sharing a meal with them. Please, remember when you were a good person before all of this.”
And then, with another whisper, he brought the hammer down. The sound of metal splitting flesh and muscle echoed through the kitchen.
But it wasn’t deep enough.
So he struck again.
This time, the knife plunged all the way through.
“I’m sorry!”
He quickly yanked the blade free, and a fresh surge of blood spilled from Donald’s chest. It poured without restraint, pooling above and beneath him. His lungs, no doubt, were filling with it too.
But Donald couldn’t move. Couldn’t scream. Couldn’t express a single ounce of the fear gripping him.
And yet—he could still think. And much like Joseph before him, he was terrified.
Not just of dying.
But of Adam. Of the way he kept apologizing as he killed them.
Why? Why did that make it so much worse?
But before he could find an answer—he was gone.
As for Adam, he knelt beside the corpse, his hands limp at his sides, fingers too weak to hold the knife and hammer any longer.
He just sat there.
Silent. Empty.
But soon, once again, he whispered,
“You’re the one who wanted this. I’m not like you, I don’t like causing pain. I’m a good person. I’m a good person. I don’t like—”
And before Adam could finish his ramblings, a voice suddenly whispered in his ear.
[Blood. Sweat. Survival. You have endured, and the Administrator, Mikhal, acknowledges your resolve. Your actions have directly impacted your team’s performance. Keep pushing forward!]
[1 Status Point has been granted.]
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AUTHOR NOTES
Alright then, Adam's... well, very special. Do holler if you notice any mistakes!
