Sarah Simm had seen some weird things at S.T.A.R. Labs. Malfunctioning robots, half-baked science experiments, tech that should've been locked behind at least six layers of security but somehow wound up in the intern break room.
But this?
This was something else.
The lab looked like a scene straight out of a horror movie. Blood smeared across the white tiles, reflecting the flashing red emergency lights. Smoke curled from shattered consoles, sparks snapping in the air like tiny firecrackers. The smell of burnt metal and something worse—something cooked—hung heavy in the air.
And then there was Victor Stone.
Sarah's stomach dropped.
He lay in the wreckage, barely conscious, his body torn apart. His right arm? Gone. His leg? A mess of shattered bone and exposed muscle. Blood pooled around him, soaking into his ruined Gotham City High football jacket. His breath came in ragged, uneven gasps, his one remaining hand weakly gripping at the empty space where his arm should have been.
And next to him—Dr. Silas Stone.
Sarah had never seen the man look anything less than in control. He was the definition of clinical. Cold. Efficient. The kind of scientist who lived for the work, not for the people it affected.
But right now?
Right now, he looked like a ghost.
His usually sharp eyes were distant, locked onto Victor but not seeing him. His lips moved, barely a whisper, a sound Sarah couldn't quite catch. His hands hovered uselessly over his son's body, shaking.
Then she saw the body.
Dr. Elinore Stone.
Sarah froze.
Elinore lay crumpled against the far wall, her white lab coat stained red. Her arms were splayed awkwardly, head tilted at an unnatural angle. Eyes half-open. Unfocused.
Dead.
Sarah swallowed down the bile rising in her throat.
Victor twitched. A hoarse, wet noise slipped from his lips. His eyelids fluttered open, glassy and bloodshot.
"Ma…?"
Sarah's breath hitched.
He doesn't know.
Silas flinched, his body jerking like he'd been electrocuted.
Victor's fingers twitched, reaching—grasping for something, someone—but finding only empty air.
Sarah moved.
She dropped to her knees beside him, hands hovering, unsure where to even touch him without making it worse.
"Victor, hey, I'm here," she said quickly. "You hear me?"
His eyes slid toward her, unfocused but searching. His bloodied fingers twitched again, barely brushing her sleeve. His lips parted.
"H-hurts," he choked out.
Her heart clenched.
"I know," she whispered. "I know. Just—just stay with me, okay? Don't check out on me, big guy."
She turned sharply to Silas.
"Dr. Stone, we need to move him. He's—"
Silas wasn't listening.
He was frozen.
Sarah gritted her teeth.
"Dr. Stone!" she barked.
Nothing.
She reached out and grabbed his wrist, fingers digging into his skin. That got his attention.
His head snapped toward her, eyes suddenly sharp—like he'd just been switched back on.
"We need to get him out of here," she said firmly. "Now."
Silas blinked once. Twice. Then, something in his expression changed. The grief? Gone. Locked away. Buried under something colder.
"You're right," he said, voice steady now. "We don't have time."
Sarah barely had a second to process before Silas was already moving.
"We take him to the Prosthetics Department," he said, crouching beside Victor. His voice had that same clipped, calculated tone he used when explaining complex theories. Like this was just another problem to solve.
Sarah's brain stuttered. Prosthetics? Not the med bay? Not a hospital?
Then it clicked.
He's not just trying to save Victor. He's going to rebuild him.
She hesitated—but only for a second.
Victor made a low, pained noise, his body shuddering. No time to question it.
She bent down, slipping her arms under Victor's shoulders, grimacing as his blood soaked into her sleeves. He let out a strangled gasp but didn't fight.
Silas grabbed his legs. Together, they lifted him. He was heavy—dead weight in their arms, his body too battered to even react.
Sarah glanced at Silas.
He muttered something under his breath. A calculation? A prayer? She couldn't tell.
All she knew was that whatever happened next—Victor Stone would never be the same.
—
Sarah's hands trembled as she tightened her grip under Victor's shoulders, her sneakers squeaking against the cold tile floor as she and Silas tried to maneuver him. Heavy didn't even begin to describe it—Victor was damn near dead weight, a lifeless mass of muscle and blood, and every inch of him felt like it was fighting against her grip.
His blood soaked through her lab coat, warm and slick, making it harder to keep hold. Her arms screamed in protest, but she refused to let go.
Victor groaned, his voice hoarse and broken. "Y'all better not drop me, man…"
Sarah huffed, adjusting her grip. "Yeah? Then you better start pulling your own weight, Stone, because you are not making this easy."
A weak, breathy chuckle escaped him, but it was cut short by a sharp hiss of pain. His body jerked slightly, and he gasped, the sound wet and ragged. Sarah winced.
"Victor, stay with me," she said, lowering her voice.
His bloodied fingers twitched at his side before weakly grasping at her wrist. His grip was barely there. Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
His lips parted, and for a moment, Sarah thought he was going to say something—something important. Instead, all he managed was, "…It hurts."
Her throat tightened.
"I know," she whispered. "I know it does. But we're getting you out of here. You hear me?"
Victor gave the barest nod, his eyelids fluttering, his breathing uneven.
Silas, his face locked in grim focus, scanned the room with quick, sharp movements—always thinking, always calculating. Then his gaze landed on something across the lab, and without a word, he broke away from Victor's side.
Sarah's brow furrowed. "Hey! Where the hell are you—?"
Silas didn't answer. Instead, he strode over to a heavy-duty equipment cart, its steel frame built for hauling delicate lab tech. Without hesitation, he grabbed a microscope and flung it off. The device shattered against the floor, glass scattering. More tools followed, clattering to the ground in a noisy, chaotic mess.
Sarah flinched. "Subtle, Doc. Real subtle."
Silas ignored her. "We put him in here."
Sarah blinked. "You—you want to put Victor in a cart?"
Silas turned to her, voice clipped and urgent. "Yes. And unless you have a better plan to transport a six-foot-three man who is actively bleeding out, I suggest you help me lift him."
Sarah opened her mouth to argue—but shut it. Because, damn it, he was right.
She blew out a breath, shook out her aching arms, and moved to the cart. "Fine. But if he gets motion sickness and throws up, you're cleaning it."
They worked fast, maneuvering Victor into the cart as gently as they could, though even that earned a muffled groan of pain from him. His face twisted, sweat glistening on his dark skin, his body trembling from shock and blood loss.
Sarah crouched beside him, gripping his uninjured hand.
"You still with us, Stone?"
His eyelids cracked open just enough for her to see a hint of his usual spark.
"…This is the worst Uber ride ever."
Sarah exhaled a shaky laugh. "Yeah, well, you're not getting five stars, either."
Silas yanked a tarp from a nearby supply shelf and threw it over the cart, concealing Victor's mutilated form. It wasn't perfect, but it would buy them a few seconds if anyone happened to pass by.
Sarah straightened up, rubbing her arms. "Okay. Now we just have to—"
Her words died in her throat as she got a good look at Silas.
His lab coat.
It was ruined.
The once-pristine white fabric was streaked with crimson, the blood drying into dark patches. Victor's blood.
Her stomach churned. No way in hell were they getting out of here without someone noticing that.
She stepped forward, grabbing Silas by the sleeve before he could move. "Lose the coat."
Silas blinked at her. "We don't have time for—"
"We don't have time to get stopped by security either," she shot back. "Do you want to get tackled in the hallway? 'Cause walking around looking like an extra in a horror movie is a damn good way to make that happen."
Silas opened his mouth, irritation flashing across his face—then he followed her gaze. And really saw himself.
His breath caught for just a second. Just long enough.
Then, with a sharp exhale, he stripped the coat off and tossed it into a nearby biohazard bin.
Sarah nodded, satisfied. "Much better."
Silas didn't acknowledge her, already gripping the cart handles, his jaw set. He started pushing, moving toward the door with steady, purposeful strides.
Sarah walked beside him, her heart hammering in her chest.
They stepped into the dimly lit hallway.
The security alarms still wailed in the distance, shrill and unrelenting, but the corridors themselves were eerily empty. Too empty. Either the chaos had drawn people elsewhere, or someone wanted them to have a clear path.
Neither option was comforting.
Sarah swallowed.
One step at a time.
Get Victor to Prosthetics.
Worry about the rest later.
—
The echo of their footsteps was almost deafening in the cold, sterile corridor. Sarah could feel every step vibrating beneath her feet, a harsh reminder that they were on borrowed time. Too loud. Too obvious. Silence, she thought. They needed silence, but it was a luxury they couldn't afford.
She glanced at Silas. His face was unreadable, the kind of mask that people wore when they were on the verge of something big. His eyes darted across the hallway, constantly scanning for any signs of movement, but Sarah could tell there was more going on inside his head. This wasn't just about saving Victor anymore. There was something deeper there. Maybe it was the guilt of failure, maybe fear... She didn't know, but she could see it in the tense set of his jaw.
But it wasn't the time to pry.
They kept moving, their pace swift and calculated. Each corner was a potential threat, but the halls remained eerily empty. The alarms rang out in the background, a constant wail that felt like a countdown. The urgency was there, but it seemed like they were slipping through unnoticed.
Victor's life was on the line. They couldn't afford any distractions.
"Almost there, Doc," Sarah muttered, her voice strained as she kept up with Silas. "You sure you can still run this thing? Don't want you tripping on your own feet." She tried to inject some humor into her words, but it came out more as a nervous edge.
Silas didn't acknowledge her. His focus was absolute. He didn't need distractions, not now.
The Prosthetics Department loomed just ahead, the soft hum of machinery drifting through the air, a mechanical lullaby that, under different circumstances, might have been comforting. Instead, it felt like the noise of something big getting ready to happen.
This was their chance to rebuild Victor—make him whole again.
Sarah steeled herself. She knew how this place worked. Advanced prosthetics, cutting-edge cybernetics. Hidden away behind high-security doors, this was the kind of place where miracles were made. Or at least, that's what they needed right now.
But then came the problem—the guard standing outside. He was an older man, senior staff, judging by his uniform and posture. Arms crossed, looking like he'd been on duty for too many years to be fooled by some sneaky trick.
Silas stopped abruptly, and Sarah nearly ran into him. She halted just short of bumping into his broad back, her pulse quickening in her throat.
"What now?" she whispered, trying to keep her voice steady.
Silas didn't waste time. His eyes flicked from the guard to the door, calculating their options in seconds. "You're a better liar than I am," he said in a low voice.
Sarah swallowed hard. "Not that much of a liar, Doc."
She knew they had only one option.
Without further discussion, Silas turned toward her, bending just enough to meet her eye. His voice was soft, but there was a gravity to it. "Distract him. You've got this."
Her heart pounded. She didn't have the time to question him. "How?"
Silas gave her a fleeting, almost reluctant smile, the kind of smile that said, I'm trusting you with this, no going back. "You're a smart girl. Figure it out."
That was all the reassurance she was going to get.
Sarah looked around quickly, searching for anything—anything that could buy them some time. Then she saw it. A large toolbox had been left haphazardly by the wall, sitting open and abandoned.
Her brain clicked into overdrive.
She nodded at Silas, giving him a glance that said, This is it. Then, she walked toward the toolbox, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible.
Reaching for a wrench, she slammed it against the side of the metal toolbox with a deliberate clatter, the sound reverberating down the corridor.
The guard's head snapped in her direction, his brow furrowing, lips curling slightly in irritation.
Sarah didn't give him time to think. She spun around, feigning a look of mild surprise, making sure to keep her voice upbeat, almost too eager. "Oh—hey! Sorry, I didn't mean to cause a racket. Just, uh, fixing something real quick!" She gave him a friendly wave, then fumbled at her tools with exaggerated confusion. "You know anything about a malfunction with the motor at the back of the lab? I've got a loose bolt, and I'm just—uh—trying to figure it out. It's in the back somewhere, but I don't really know how to—"
The guard paused, his gaze narrowing as he tried to piece together the sudden noise and her presence. His arms were still crossed, but Sarah could feel him evaluating her.
She kept her voice light, keeping the act going. "I was told to check the systems, make sure there were no issues with the power supply. You know how it is! Just—just keeping everything running smoothly." She gave him a sheepish grin, one that didn't quite reach her eyes.
The guard didn't move for a few seconds, his skepticism thick in the air. Sarah held her breath, praying he'd buy it.
"You sure you're supposed to be here?" His voice was low, skeptical, but not entirely unfriendly.
Sarah nodded quickly, too quickly. "Oh, yeah! Absolutely! Just a quick checkup. I promise."
The guard stared at her for a beat longer. The tension in Sarah's chest was unbearable. Then, he sighed, long and drawn out, clearly irritated. "Fine. Just—don't make more noise. And keep your hands off anything you're not supposed to touch."
"Yes! Got it!" Sarah nearly shouted, relief flooding her system. She gave him a little too enthusiastic thumbs-up. "You're the best! Thank you!"
The guard gave her a final once-over before he turned and walked toward the elevator without another word.
Once he was out of sight, Sarah let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
In a low voice, she turned to Silas, who had already started pushing the cart again. "Let's go."
Silas nodded and began moving, his movements as deliberate as before. The cart squeaked in protest, a sound that made Sarah flinch, but they didn't stop.
They made it through the door just as the guard's footsteps faded into the distance.
Inside the Prosthetics Lab, the atmosphere was a sharp contrast to the chaos outside. The fluorescent lights buzzed quietly, casting sterile shadows across the room. The air smelled like a mix of oil, plastic, and something metallic, the scent of precision and innovation.
Victor's labored breathing was the only sound that mattered now.
Silas exhaled, a deep, almost imperceptible sigh of relief, but there was no time to waste.
Sarah turned to him, the sharpness of the moment taking hold of her once more. "Okay, Doc. We've got him here. What's the plan?"
Silas was already pulling out surgical tools, his expression set and focused. "We stabilize Victor. I'll get the diagnostics going." His tone was quiet but firm. "One shot, Sarah. One shot, and we rebuild him. This is it."
Victor's eyes were half-closed, his body battered beyond recognition, but there was still a flicker of life left in him. For the first time that day, Sarah felt a sliver of hope break through her anxiety.
One shot.
She nodded, steeling herself. This was what they had worked for. What they had fought for. And no matter the cost, she wasn't going to let them lose him now.
They had to save him.
—
The hum of the machines in the lab was oddly comforting, a mechanical rhythm that allowed Sarah to focus. The soft beeping of the heart monitor in the corner blended with the clicking and whirring of diagnostic equipment. The lab felt like an echo of a past long forgotten, a place where ideas once dreamed up as science fiction now teetered on the precipice of dangerous reality.
Sarah's eyes flicked over to Silas, who stood hunched over the diagnostic terminal, his hands moving with a practiced precision. There was an urgency in the way he typed, but his expression remained cool, almost detached. Despite the calm facade, Sarah could tell something was eating at him. His jaw was clenched tight, and every now and then, his eyes would flicker to Victor's prone form, the faint hum of the life-support machine the only sound in the room louder than the occasional beep of the diagnostic tools.
Sarah shifted on her feet, a feeling of unease settling in her stomach like a stone. Something didn't add up. It was hard to pinpoint exactly what it was—perhaps the subtle tension in Silas's posture, or the way Victor's hand twitched under the faint glow of the lab's fluorescent lights. Either way, she had a sense that she wasn't seeing the whole picture.
As her gaze wandered, she noticed the dust-covered tarp at the back of the room. She knew it was a piece of tech that Silas had been working on for years—ever since the Parademon invasion a decade ago. Her curiosity, as ever, got the better of her.
"Silas," she said, breaking the uneasy silence. "What's back there?"
Silas didn't even look up, his voice flat and clipped. "Don't touch it, Sarah."
She hesitated. Something about the way he said it made her blood run cold. But her curiosity was a monster she couldn't ignore.
"Why?" she asked, stepping forward despite his warning.
"Because you won't like what's under it," he replied, his tone sharp now.
But Sarah was already too close, the metallic tang of the lab mixing with the scent of dust and something she couldn't quite place—like the air before a storm. She lifted the edge of the tarp, a shiver running down her spine as her eyes settled on the sleek form beneath it.
Her breath hitched. The prosthesis was nothing like the crude models they had worked with before. It was beautiful—alien, almost—with angular edges and intricate grooves that seemed too smooth to have been designed by human hands. It hummed with an otherworldly energy, as if it had a mind of its own. Her fingers trembled as they traced the contours of the object, and for a split second, she could almost imagine it pulsing, alive.
"What the hell is this?" she whispered, awe and horror mixing in her voice.
Silas's footsteps echoed as he rushed forward, his face draining of color. "Sarah, I said don't—"
She turned to him, eyes wide with realization. "This is it, isn't it? This is what you've been working on all this time. The Parademon prosthetic. The one everyone thought was a failure."
Silas stopped, his face hardening into something unreadable. "I told you to stay away from it."
Her breath came faster, a tightness in her chest as the pieces began to fall into place. "This is what you've been keeping secret. This is the project that was scrapped because the neural interface was too much for anyone to handle. The test subjects went catatonic, Silas. You're talking about putting something in Victor's brain that could overload him!"
Victor, still unconscious on the table, shifted slightly, the flicker of his eyelids the only sign of life.
Silas's gaze darkened, and he took a step toward her. "You don't understand, Sarah. We're running out of time. If I don't do this, he's gone."
Sarah stepped back, her heart hammering in her chest. "You can't do this! You're not just giving him a prosthetic; you're turning him into a weapon. The neural overload will destroy him. You know it! The data was clear—no one survived the full connection."
Silas's shoulders tensed, his eyes locking on her. He didn't flinch. "We don't have the luxury of perfect solutions, Sarah. You think I don't know the risks? I've spent years working on this. The failures… the tests… they were all leading to this. This is the breakthrough we need."
"That's not a breakthrough, Silas," Sarah said, her voice trembling. "It's a death sentence."
"I don't have anything else left!" Silas snapped, his voice breaking for the briefest moment. "I've lost my wife, I've lost my son… I can't lose Victor too."
For a moment, Sarah could see the pain in his eyes—the man behind the scientist. The father who had sacrificed so much for the impossible. It wasn't just Victor he was trying to save. It was himself, his guilt, his regret. But that didn't make it any less dangerous.
"You can't fix your past mistakes by doing this, Silas," Sarah said, her voice softer now but no less resolute. "Victor is not a project. He's not some test subject."
She stepped closer to him, her heart in her throat. "This is wrong. You know it."
Victor's pulse monitor began to beep erratically, a loud, sharp sound that cut through the tension like a knife. Both Sarah and Silas turned toward the monitor, and her stomach dropped when she saw the readings.
"No… No, no, no!" Silas muttered, rushing forward. His fingers flew over the terminal, but it was too late. Victor's heart rate was spiking, his neural activity fluctuating wildly.
Sarah's eyes darted from the monitor to Silas. "What's happening?"
Silas's face paled. "His brain is rejecting the prosthetic. It's too much—he can't handle it!"
Before Sarah could stop him, Silas reached for the prosthesis, his hands shaking as he began to prepare the neural interface. "I have to stabilize him now," he said, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and determination.
"No!" Sarah shouted, her pulse pounding in her ears. "Stop!"
But Silas didn't hear her. Or maybe, he didn't care.
"Silas, please!" Sarah begged, moving toward him, but he was already securing the interface to Victor's skull. The machine hummed to life, its lights flickering ominously as it made contact with Victor's brain.
"Stop! You're going to kill him!" Sarah cried, lunging toward him, but she was too late.
Victor's body jerked, his back arching as the neural interface connected, the lights from the prosthetic flashing brighter and brighter. A low, guttural scream rumbled from his throat—half agony, half confusion—as the overload began.
Silas stood frozen, his hands still gripping the controls, a mixture of fear and resignation in his eyes. "I can't save him any other way," he whispered, voice cracking under the weight of his decision. "Not without this."
And as the neural interface pulsed one final time, a wave of energy rippled through the room, and Sarah knew, deep in her gut, that they had crossed a line that could never be undone.
Victor's body went still.
But it wasn't over yet. The real battle was just beginning.
—
The sterile lab was an oppressive space—white walls, flickering overhead lights, and the constant, unrelenting hum of machinery. It was the kind of place where life and death collided, where the boundary between man and machine could blur in a matter of seconds. The low buzz of electronics was punctuated by the occasional beep of monitors, like an unwelcome countdown.
Victor Stone's once-proud form lay motionless on the operating table, a grotesque mockery of what he had been. The burns that marred his skin, the gaping wounds—none of them could be ignored. He was too far gone. But there was still a flicker of hope, an ember of life in his chest. The machines, the diagnostic screens, the rhythm of his pulse—they all told a story of a fight not yet over.
On one side of the room, Sarah paced. She couldn't stand still, but she couldn't make herself leave either. Her hands were trembling, and though she fought to keep her emotions in check, the weight of what was happening bore down on her. This wasn't just some procedure. This wasn't just another medical breakthrough. This was Victor. Victor Stone. She didn't know what would come of this, but she knew it had to work. She had to believe that.
"Come on, Victor," she murmured under her breath, her voice barely audible. "Please. Hold on." Her gaze flickered to Silas, standing in front of the terminal, his back rigid as he typed in the final codes. His face was drawn tight with worry, a look she didn't often see on the man who usually carried the weight of the world so effortlessly.
Silas's fingers danced over the terminal, his eyes never leaving the screen, the flickering light reflecting in his glasses. He was calm, but beneath that calm was something darker, a current of fear and responsibility that he didn't show often. His entire career had led to this moment, and he had never once wanted to be here. Yet, there was no turning back.
"Silas…" Sarah said, her voice quiet but sharp, as though sensing his resolve was faltering. "Are you sure about this?"
He didn't look up. He couldn't afford to. "There's no other way," he said simply, his tone strained. His hands hovered over the keyboard as the final stages of the procedure began to engage. "It's either this, or we lose him forever."
She clenched her fists, frustration and fear warring within her. "And if we lose him anyway? What then?"
Silas exhaled sharply, his jaw clenched, and for the first time, he looked over at her, his eyes filled with a weariness that made Sarah's heart ache. "Then I'll have to live with that," he muttered. "But I can't live with the alternative."
A low mechanical hum filled the space as the system powered up. A soft whine of hydraulics and gears turning signaled the beginning of the end—or maybe the start of something entirely new. Sarah's throat tightened as the prosthetics began to power on. They were sleek, clinical, too perfect for the man she loved. They would never be the same again.
Victor's body began to twitch slightly, a reflex as the interface started to link his remaining organic tissue with the cybernetic implants. His chest rose and fell, a shallow, labored breath that rattled through the cold, clinical space. His eyelids fluttered, his face contorted in pain as the systems synced with his brain.
The first of the limbs—his left arm—was replaced by cold metal and hydraulics. The metal gleamed, the artificial skin a perfect match to what remained of his human flesh. It was seamless, but it still wasn't right. Victor's fingers twitched, a grotesque imitation of their usual dexterity. His breath came faster now, heavier, as the shock of the transformation overwhelmed him.
"Victor…" Sarah whispered, moving closer, but she held herself back, unsure whether to approach or remain in the shadows. The man she knew was slipping away with every passing second. She couldn't lose him. Not like this.
Victor groaned, his voice a rasp of raw emotion. "What the hell is happening to me?" His dark eyes shot open, but there was confusion in them, panic. He tried to move, but the weight of the prosthetics was foreign to him. It wasn't just the physical weight; it was the psychological burden that was beginning to press down on him, too.
Silas, still working at the terminal, didn't flinch at the sound of Victor's voice. "You're alive, Victor," he said, his voice steady but tinged with emotion. "You're going to be okay. You just have to hold on."
Victor's gaze snapped to Silas, then to Sarah, his body trembling. "Hold on? To what? I don't even know who I am anymore…" His voice cracked, the words tasting bitter in his mouth. He looked at his new arm, flexing it with slow, deliberate motions, his metal fingers gripping the air like a foreign object.
Sarah wanted to reach out to him, but she couldn't. She couldn't touch him like this—not when he looked at her with such fear and confusion. "Victor, we're here," she said softly, moving closer still, her voice trembling with uncertainty. "We'll figure this out. Together."
Victor's breath was coming faster now, shallow gasps as the neural interface linked deeper, faster. The cold, mechanical whirring of the systems surrounding him echoed louder as his new legs began to attach, metal plating merging with his skin. There was no going back now. The transformation was too far along, and the pain in his eyes mirrored that of someone who knew he was losing himself.
Silas swallowed hard, watching as the final stages of the prosthetics took hold. The limbs, the circuitry—they were perfect. Too perfect. It felt like a betrayal. But there was nothing else he could do.
"Victor..." Silas said softly, stepping closer. "I need you to focus, alright? You're not alone in this. We'll get through this. You're still you, okay?"
Victor's head snapped up, eyes wild as his chest heaved with each frantic breath. The new limbs were functional—too functional. He could feel them, feel the cold metal moving beneath his skin, the fluid motion that was so far beyond human capability. But his soul—his soul was still human. And he wasn't sure how long he could keep that intact.
"Silas," he croaked, his voice raw, almost unrecognizable. "I don't know if I can do this."
Silas's eyes softened as he took a tentative step forward, his voice gentle but firm. "You're stronger than you think, Victor. You always have been."
Victor's gaze locked with Silas for a long moment, the connection undeniable, but then his eyes flicked to Sarah, who stood just behind him. She was still there. She hadn't left him.
With a pained groan, Victor pushed himself up from the table, the new limbs adjusting to his weight, holding him steady. His body—now a strange fusion of man and machine—was steady. His movements were smooth, almost too smooth, a mechanical precision that left him feeling alien in his own skin.
"Victor?" Sarah whispered, her voice breaking.
Victor stood, silent for a moment, his glowing eyes scanning the room. His gaze lingered on Sarah, then Silas, before he finally spoke, his voice tight with emotion.
"I don't know who I am anymore," he whispered, his breath shaky. "But I'm still here… for now."
And with that, Victor Stone—once a man, now something else entirely—took his first step into an uncertain future, the echo of his former self lingering in his every movement.
---
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