Bio-Mech Warrior

0800 Hours—Andrew's Apartment, Cornalian Region, New Sandesta

2 Days Later

The mirrors and the sterile lights reflected harshly, blinding him.

Andrew found himself lying on a bed, surrounded by unfamiliar medical instruments. A dextrose line was hooked to his left arm. His body was stiff, heavy. He couldn't recall how he got here. Everything around him felt too real—like something from a memory buried deep.

His breath grew shallow. Panic seeped into his chest.

A doctor entered, a folder in hand, flipping through its contents before setting it down on a nearby table.

"Well, well… Is it little Andrew? How have you been?"

Andrew didn't answer. He gritted his teeth, muffling a scream as a wave of searing pain coursed through him. The doctor's smile widened—pleased.

"I don't like naughty kids. Be good, and you'll get your reward."

His warm expression twisted into a sadistic grin.

"No... I don't want... Who are you? Let me go home!" Andrew screamed, eyes wide as the doctor reached for a scalpel.

"This is just a little experiment," the man whispered, voice dripping with mock kindness. "It'll sting... but you're strong, Andy boy. Just a bit more…"

Andrew screamed at the top of his lungs.

---

He woke with a jolt, heart pounding.

A dream—but it felt real, too real. Like a fragmented memory clawing its way back from a locked part of his subconscious.

Soaked in sweat, Andrew didn't bother checking the time. He stumbled to the kitchen, every breath ragged. Grabbing a clean glass from the rack, he filled it with cold water and gulped it down in one go. Only then did he glance at the wall clock.

0800 hours.

He'd overslept. Judging by how sluggish he felt, he noticed something else—he'd been gaining weight.

"I guess I need to jog again..." he muttered, wiping sweat from his brow with a towel.

He shuffled to the living room and collapsed onto the couch, remote in hand. The TV flickered to life, but nothing on screen held his interest. Static noise. Background hum. All of it felt... distant.

He turned it off and headed back to the bedroom.

His phone lay still. No calls. No messages. The silence was louder than ever. He placed it gently on the table, then sat in quiet contemplation.

Suddenly, a sharp sting struck him.

Andrew turned pale. Gasping, he looked at his arms—fresh scratch marks. Blood. The wounds were new, angry.

"What the hell is happening!?" he shouted, stumbling back toward the kitchen.

He twisted the faucet open, splashing cold water over his arms, trying to steady himself.

Then the voices returned.

"Once one of us… you'll always be one of us."

"There's no getting out, Andrew. You will always be our prime… weapon."

Andrew collapsed, the voice echoing in his skull.

Darkness overtook him.

1000 Hours—Liu Tai Long Eastern Cuisine, Andersen's Mall, Hagnayan City, Cornalian Region

A brown-skinned Cornalian man in his forties sat quietly inside the restaurant, sipping tropical tea through a straw. A faint sigh escaped his lips—part relief, part satisfaction. His stern expression softened just a little.

"Are you sure they'll come, Enrique?" asked a fair-skinned woman with almond eyes and a small face. She wore a tight crimson outfit that accentuated her figure, a sheer white bolero draped over her shoulders like a veil of elegance.

"If the Yuanese find my offer worth their time, they'll be here," Enrique replied, setting his glass down. "And they will."

Moments later, a sharply dressed man stepped through the entrance—black hair neatly combed, angular face clean-shaven, eyes keen and almond-shaped. He walked with the confidence of someone used to power.

"I am Mr. Gary Wong. You must be Enrique Gomez," he said, approaching the table.

"I am," Enrique answered coolly.

Gary took a seat opposite him. "Your proposal intrigued our boss. But he prefers proof over promises."

"I believe my partner here is more than capable. He's proven himself in the field," the woman said, her voice steady.

Gary didn't even glance at her. "I wasn't speaking to you, lady—"

"Alice Zhang," she interrupted, her tone sharp but composed. "And I have full confidence in my partner."

Recognition flashed across Gary's face. He switched to their native Yuanese tongue. "Alice? So it is you. The most ambitious heir of Hanfeng's underworld. You should've stayed home. I hear your fiancé wasn't too happy about you running off to side with a local warlord."

Alice met his gaze without flinching. "It's my life, not a bargaining chip for arranged alliances. I want my own legacy."

Enrique, who understood Yuanese but stayed quiet, sipped his drink again. He glanced outside, noticing several men approaching the restaurant.

"Your companions are here," he said, nodding toward the glass door.

Gary followed his gaze. "Some family members may join us. Business and partnerships go hand in hand with trust."

He turned back to Alice, his voice edged with warning. "I hope you're not making a mistake."

Alice smiled, unshaken. "I'm not. We'll succeed. I guarantee it."

12 Hours Later — Andrew's Apartment

Andrew stirred awake, his breath shallow as he blinked back the blur in his vision. His head throbbed. The voices—those strange whispers—were gone. Only silence greeted him now, save for the faint hum of the city outside.

The incident earlier… it must've been the drug laced into the SynthMech's neurolink. A side effect. A hallucination. At least, he hoped so.

Grimacing, he sat up. Pain flared from his left arm. He glanced down to see dried blood and shallow cuts—remnants from a shattered ceramic mug.

Dragging himself to the bathroom, Andrew washed the wounds under cool water, the sting snapping him fully back to reality. He muttered under his breath as he cleaned the cuts with soap and wrapped them using the first aid kit under the sink.

But the dream still lingered.

It wasn't just a dream. It felt… real. The pain, the sterile white rooms, the doctor's voice—it all echoed like memories buried deep. It unsettled him.

"What the hell is happening to me?" he thought.

As he finished bandaging his arm, the doorbell rang. He froze. No one was supposed to visit. Not today.

He tossed on a shirt and shorts, ran a hand through his hair, and opened the door.

It was Tanya.

She stood in the doorway, arms crossed, her expression unreadable but her eyes filled with concern.

"Hey…" Andrew muttered, unsure what else to say.

"That's what you're supposed to lead with?" Tanya said, stepping in without waiting.

"I didn't expect you to come by. Don't you have paperwork or something?"

"Paperwork can wait," she said flatly. "Can I come in?"

Andrew hesitated. "It's… kind of a mess. But sure."

They walked inside. Tanya immediately noticed the broken shards on the floor and the blood smeared across the kitchen tile.

"What the hell happened?" she asked, alarmed.

"It's nothing. Don't tell anyone, alright?" Andrew said as he began picking up the mess.

"I won't," Tanya said, watching him carefully.

They settled by the small table between the kitchen and the living room. The air hung heavy with unsaid thoughts.

"You see…" Andrew began, hesitating. "I've been having strange dreams lately."

Tanya narrowed her eyes. "What kind of dreams?"

"Of being experimented on. It was vivid, like I was really there. The sounds, the lights, the pain—everything felt real."

"You need to report this to Colonel Gray."

"No," Andrew shook his head. "I'll be fine. This is why I hate the tech behind SynthMechs. It's the neurolink. It's screwing with my head."

"Then maybe you shouldn't—"

"I know!" Andrew snapped, cutting her off. He sighed. "That's why I'm not using them anymore."

There was a pause. Tanya looked like she wanted to say more but bit her tongue.

Then she shifted in her seat. "By the way, I came here to tell you something."

Andrew looked at her.

"Colonel Gray… was in an accident."

His eyes widened. "What!?"