WARNING: Brief graphic violence

TWO YEARS BEFORE THE OUTBREAK...

The day had finally come. The test subjects were finally being sent home.

Ares, Atlas, Hermes, and several other people were lined up in the hallway in front of the exit into the facility's garage. Groups of test subjects were sent off once every two weeks since March. Schaefer claimed they would be driven into Lancaster and offered one free train ticket to anywhere in England. Sounded promising enough.

It was even more promising for Ares since Lancaster was his hometown. And now with a free train ticket, he was thinking of going on a little trip with Sarah once he was reunited with her.

"That sounds lovely," Hermes replied, hearing Ares explain what he was going to do with his new freedom.

"What about you, old fart?" Ares asked. "What's the first thing you gonna do?"

"Well just like you, I actually have family in Lancaster."

"So I guess that's where all the geezers live now, huh?" Atlas chuckled. Even at almost twenty years old, he still had the mentality of a delinquent.

"As I was saying," Hermes groaned, "once I get back to Lancaster, I'm gonna find my daughter's fiancé and kick his arse."

Ares and Atlas's eyes widened in unison. "Well, that's great," Atlas added with an awkward grin.

"What about you, sprog?" Ares continued. "Where are you headed next?"

"Easy, mate. London. Gotta find my little brother after all these years."

"Both of you are determinators," Hermes chimed in. "That's admirable. In fact, would you like to take my ticket, Ares?"

"Do you really mean it, old timer?" Ares said, secretly touched by Hermes's kind gesture.

"Why not? Lancaster's my final destination, and with that extra ticket you can go on your little father-daughter bonding trip for free."

Hermes became one of a few people in the world who got to witness one of Ares's surprisingly charming smiles. "Cheers, mate," he said.

The doors to the next room slid open, revealing a wide chamber large enough to fit the entire group, with another set of doors at the opposite end. Fluorescent lights lined the edges of the ceiling, giving the room a dim green glow. Some of them even noticed there were more water sprinklers on the ceiling than anywhere else in the facility.

"There's always something in the way between us and the outside world," Hermes groaned.

Someone at the end of the group loudly cleared their throat. Ares looked back to see Bennington standing behind him.

"Gentlemen," Bennington greeted. "I'm glad to finally send you on your way home, but Ares, I need you to come with me."

"What for?" Ares asked.

"You've proven to be one of the Ambrosia Project's most successful candidates, easily recovering from every injury and—aside from one incident—never picking fights with the staff. We just need to run one more quick test on the nanites running exclusively through your bloodstream before sending you where you belong." He stepped out of the line and held his arm out towards the rest of the hallway. "So would you kindly follow me back to the advanced trial room?"

Ares took one more glance back at Atlas and Hermes, the three of them exchanged encouraging smiles before Atlas spoke. "Go ahead, mate. You're probably gonna get out faster than we are."

"Just depends on your behavior and cooperation," Bennington said.

Ares shook both Atlas and Hermes's hands. "It was nice knowing you two. And I rarely say that, so cherish this."

"I won't," Hermes replied jokingly.

The two of them followed the other test subjects into the room, and the doors slid shut. Two of his closest friends—he never thought he'd admit it—were finally saying bye.

"You're not going home," Bennington announced as soon as the two of them were alone.

Ares looked back at Bennington. But he was too late to dodge the metal rod aiming for his skull.

* * *

"Rise and shine, computer thief."

Ares's eyes slowly opened. The blinding light of the infirmary entered his view, and all around him stood the scientists responsible for what was happening all along. However, instead of the diverse ages and races of the people he encountered before, he found himself surrounded by people wearing ominous silver helmets.

He remembered those helmets from the first day, the day they went through the long scorching discomfort that was the Ambrosia destroying their pain receptors. There were two small slits where the eyes were located and many more of them covering the area around the mouth. They were also rumored to be bulletproof, but no event in the history of the Ambrosia Project tested the protective durability of said helmets.

Ares looked down at himself to see his arms and legs strapped to a chair. In front of him was the laptop he used to talk to Sarah placed down on a table. And he couldn't tell if he was hallucinating seeing her on the screen that time.

"Recognize this?" one helmet-wearing individual asked. He didn't need a face. That soulless voice already made Ares realize it was Schaefer. "Recognize her?"

Schaefer aimed his hand at the laptop and Ares gazed into it. He could finally confirm Sarah was live on the screen. And she did not want to watch what was going down.

"Daddy!" she shouted with her hands cupped around her mouth. "What's going on?"

"Sarah..." Ares said weakly.

"Oh, I'm afraid your daddy's in a lot of trouble," another masked man replied. Bennington. No doubt about it, especially since he was playfully twirling around a scalpel in his hand. "Yes, miss, an awful lot of trouble."

"What are you gonna do to him?" Sarah asked.

"Well, darling, as one of your father's superiors, I have to punish him for breaking some of our rules. Reduce some of his privileges, I guess you could say." And that's when he stopped twirling around the scalpel and stabbed it down into Ares's leg, causing Sarah to scream in horror.

While the pain was still there, it was heavily numbed by the Ambrosia, feeling more like a small needle prick than a stab wound. Fear was what made him gasp in horror. He didn't want to die gruesomely in front of us daughter.

"You see, lass," Schaefer explained, "functioning legs gave your father the ability to leave his room and steal a piece of our own technology. We think it would be reasonable to temporarily restrict him of that gift."

Bennington quickly sliced the scalpel across Ares's leg down to his knee, leaving behind a long red laceration. Blood already began staining his pants. And the pain he remembered from previous times in his life he'd been stabbed began to show itself.

"You monsters!" Sarah hissed, tears already streaming down her face.

"And that was just the punishment," Schafer continued. "We also need to make sure your daddy learns from his mistake. So, Hades, would you kindly mark the other leg as well?"

"Yes, sir," Bennington replied with a smirk. He then yanked the scalpel out of Ares's leg and walked around to the other side of the chair.

"Fuck you," Ares spat.

"It's just a flesh wound," Bennington replied. "Walk it off."

He repeated the same process, stabbing down into Ares's quadricep and slicing the blade across his leg. Ares held his breath to reduce the pain, but he couldn't help but admit it was more agonizing than the first time.

"Leave him alone!" Sarah screamed.

"Zeus," a woman wearing the same helmet as everyone else spoke. Hera. "I feel like you're letting Hades go too far this time."

"I'm doing this in the name of our project," Schaefer replied. "Look at his wounds. They're healing faster than ever."

Schaefer was right. Even though it was hard to tell through the bright red stains tracing down his leg, the lacerations Bennington left behind sealed up with scabs in seconds, now in the process of transforming back into normal flesh.

"It took just five seconds for the wounds to scab over," another helmet-wearing individual said. It was Simon (or Poseidon since Ares didn't know his real name). "Impressive."

"Are you still watching, dear?" Bennington asked Sarah.

"I'm gonna call the fuzz!" Sarah shouted angrily. She jumped from her seat and ran to retrieve her phone.

"I wouldn't do that," Schaefer said. "I'm afraid you've become part of the experiment."

"What do you mean?"

"Notice how your father's wounds have healed in a blink. We think you're a motivation for the Ambrosia's exhilarated healing qualities."

"What's Ambrosia?"

"You think she'd know this?" Ares groaned in pain. "I didn't want her to get involved in this."

"And yet you still had the gall to steal a laptop and talk to her," Bennington retorted. "And for that, we'll be moving on to your hands."

He pinned Ares's arm down to the chair's armrest and placed the tip of the scalpel against his wrist.

"Please," Ares growled. "Not in front of my daughter."

"She doesn't have to watch," Schaefer replied. "Not if she wants to go down with you."

"Sarah dear," Bennington said with fake glee, "watch and learn. They don't show you any of this in biology class."

"I don't want to watch!" Sarah shouted angrily. "Let my dad go!"

"In fact, now that I mention it, pretend this is a class. If you refuse to watch, not only will you fail, your daddy fails, too. Understand?"

Sarah quietly nodded, a single tear drifting down her cheek. She placed her hands on her face, preparing to cover her eyes once they'd inevitably hurt her father once more.

"So, Ares," Bennington said, still pressing the blade of the scalpel against Ares's wrist. "It's already obvious your daughter means the world to you. She's your flesh and blood."

"Of course," Ares replied.

"Well, it's too bad your literal flesh and blood will be spilling all over the floor." He slashed the scalpel down Ares's arm, slicing through his wrist. Blood poured out of the wound like a sprung leak as the blade slowly cut through his skin. And for the first time in a long time, he felt pain agonizing enough to make him scream.

His screams were reminiscent of a wild animal, one that was too wounded to protect its pack. Like if the last thing the creature saw before dying slowly and painfully was its pack being slaughtered by savages.

"That's it!" Sarah screamed. "I'm calling the police! Maybe even the army! I can't watch this any longer!"

Schaefer flashed a sadistic smirk. "You turn that off now, then you and your father will—"

The screen turned black. And with that, Bennington let out a long crazed laugh.

"Poseidon!" Bennington yelled. "Track the location of where the girl called from."

"Uh..." Simon hesitated. "Could you repeat that again? Your helmet kind of muffled your—"

"Track the girl's location and find her! Bring her to the facility!"

"Y-y-yes, sir."

"Why?" Ares asked, too exhausted to move. Sweat trickled down his forehead and blood continued to seep out of the slowly-healing slash in his wrist. "Why...are you...doing this to us?"

"I already told you," Schaefer replied softly. "This is all part of the experiment. I believe your love for your daughter is enhancing the healing qualities of the Ambrosia. But now we have to see if it will still do the job without her."

"Fuck you," Ares groaned. "She did nothing to deserve this."

Bennington twirled the bloody scalpel around in his hand. "Well, Mr. Ares, if you're lucky, this next slit could be the death of you. That way you won't see what we have in store for your daughter."

"Wait! Please!"

Bennington made his way over to Ares's clean wrist. "Say goodnight."

"NO!"

Ares's ferocious screams filled the room again as his other wrist was slit. And all he could remember next was that he blacked out.

* * *

Back in the other room, Atlas and Hermes were gathered with several other test subjects, all of them ready to return home.

"I hope Ares gets home to his daughter," Atlas said. "After everything we've gone through, they really deserve to be reunited."

"Pretty sure we all have someone to go home to," Hermes replied. "Speaking of which, now that we're on our way, we should officially introduce ourselves."

"Y'know, that's a good point. All this time we've been roommates, yet I never learned your name."

"In that case," Hermes extended his hand out. "I'll go first. My name is—"

Feedback blared out of the speakers in the ceiling, startling everyone in the room. Atlas, Hermes, and the other test subjects looked toward the ceiling to find the source of the noise.

"Hello, test subjects," Hera announced through the intercom. After Ares's torture, she left the room to send the other test subjects off via announcements. "This is Hera. We know you're ready to go home, but the scientists here in the Ambrosia Project would like to thank you for your contribution and cooperation."

"The only thing I contributed was a few ounces of my blood," one of the test subjects in the room called out. "I mean, look at this scar!"

"We know some of these tests caused discomfort and even slight physical harm," Hera continued. "And not to mention the many test subjects who gave their lives to support our project. They will be remembered and honored."

"In the garbage chute," Hermes retorted, resulting in a few chuckles from the others.

"However, there is one more thing all of you need to know. You're not going home."

A series of cries of dismay and shock traveled through the crowded room. "What the hell?!" another test subject shouted.

"Despite your contribution, the project itself was an utter failure. The healing factor takes too long to work, and pain still occurs even with the Ambrosia. And due to our inhumane methods of testing them out, I'm afraid you all know too much now to be set free."

"What the fuck?!" And with that, the crowd let out angry shouts and tried banging down the doors. Only Atlas and Hermes remained still.

"In a few seconds, cyanogen chloride, a highly toxic gas, will be released from the sprinklers above you. As a blood agent, we are hoping the poison will destroy the Ambrosia coursing through your bloodstream and prevent your reanimation."

"Reanimation?" Atlas asked.

"Once it's over, several of our security guards wearing protective suits and masks will enter the room and dispose of your corpses, which we plan on burning to avoid reanimation and erase evidence. We are all terribly sorry, especially after everything you've been through."

"What?!" Atlas shouted, nearly on the verge of tears.

The speakers clicked off. Gas started spraying out of the sprinklers, the room filling with a thick silvery mist. The test subjects broke down into chaos, pounding on walls and the doors and the floor, anything to get them out.

Atlas crouched down to the floor, letting his emotions get the best of him. "This can't be happening! I JUST WANTED TO SEE MY BROTHER AGAIN!"

Hermes slowly approached him. He tilted his head to the side to cough, a spray of red mist exiting his throat. "Atlas," he said.

Atlas kneeled over to the side to vomit. Soon, everyone else in the room was down on the floor either coughing or vomiting. Many of the test subjects' skin color transitioned to a green, almost bluish hue, and some already collapsed to the floor dead.

"Atlas."

Atlas slowly raised his head toward Hermes, blood seeping out of his nostril. "Yeah?" he asked.

Hermes extended his hand out. "My name is Archibald Dyer. And my last request is that my daughter Lavinia live a happy life without anyone ever controlling her."

Atlas found a little extra determination to stand up and greet a friend one more time. He stumbled to rose up, but once he got to his feet, he shook Archibald's hand long and warmly.

"Good, lad," Archibald said with a smile. "Now what is your name?"

Atlas wiped his tears away.

"And while you're at it," Archibald paused to cough again, "what is your final request?"

"My name is Harry O'Connor. And I wish the best of luck for my little brother."

"Pleasure to meet you, Harry. And for your final statement, say—"

Harry's legs gave in. He and Hermes collapsed to the floor, and Hermes turned over to the side to throw up. Everything grew blurry as the world faded around them.

"Tell me, Harry," Archibald continued weakly. "What is your brother's name?"

The doors at the end of the room opened up, and multiple men wearing gas masks and protective suits entered. Harry watched as they began escorting the lifeless bodies of his fellow test subjects before answering Archibald's question and offering his last word.

"Aaron."