Perk Mage.

I woke up, feeling completely out of it. My surroundings didn’t make sense—there was no comfort here, no familiarity. The room felt like a prison, with tubes connected to my arms, pinning me to a bed. It wasn’t a warm, cozy place. It was cold, sterile, and unsettling. The tubes above me retreated into the ceiling with a soft whoosh, and I heard a faint click, like some sort of release mechanism.

“Hey, what’s going on?” I muttered under my breath, my voice hoarse and confused. I wasn’t sure where I was or how long I’d been unconscious. All I knew was that I was restrained and had no idea why.

I blinked rapidly, trying to shake off the fog in my brain. Looking around, I noticed the room was almost entirely bare. There was a small, metal table in the corner with a single chair, and an unmarked door that led to who knows where. The walls were a dull gray, devoid of anything personal. It was a blank, unwelcoming space, the kind that made you feel like you were meant to disappear into it.

As I started to process everything, I heard heavy footsteps approaching from down the hallway. The sound echoed, deliberate and firm, each step resonating with the certainty of someone who wasn’t afraid of getting what they wanted.

The door opened with a soft creak, and in walked a man decked out in full protective gear—boots, gloves, helmet, and a visor that concealed most of his face. He looked like he meant business.

“Awake, huh?” he said in a tone that was less of a question and more of an observation, like he couldn’t care less if I was or not. His voice was cold, uninterested, like I was just another object to be dealt with.

I blinked, trying to focus. “Where am I?” I demanded, my voice shaking slightly despite myself. “What’s going on?”

He stepped forward without hesitation, his movements stiff, as if he was just following orders. "You’re here to cooperate. No questions. Got it?" He grabbed my arm, his grip tight and unyielding, and pulled me up from the bed.

I recoiled at his touch, but it was clear he wasn’t going to let me go without a fight. “Hey, I’m not going anywhere without answers,” I said, my chest tightening as I struggled to stay calm.

"You're gonna walk. And you’re gonna like it," he said, his voice low, almost threatening. He yanked my arm, and I winced at the force. The chains around my wrists rattled with every movement as he dragged me down a narrow hallway. The sound of our footsteps echoed through the halls, cold and hollow.

The hallway was lined with doors, each leading to more cells or rooms, the people inside looking at us with eyes that ranged from apathetic to scared. They were all dressed similarly to me—plain, unremarkable outfits that marked us as nothing more than test subjects or prisoners. The atmosphere was heavy, oppressive, like a warehouse for the unwanted.

After what felt like an eternity, we reached an elevator. The guard pressed the button, and the elevator doors slid open. The sound of the elevator chimes seemed oddly out of place, and for a moment, I thought it would be the last sound I heard before everything went dark again.

The elevator ride was short, but the silence between us felt like it dragged on forever. The music piped in through the speakers—soft, elevator-style jazz that felt completely inappropriate for the situation, almost mocking. If I wasn’t so tense, I might’ve laughed at the absurdity of it.

The elevator finally came to a stop with a soft jolt, and the doors opened to reveal a room that was unmistakably a lab. But it wasn’t a functioning lab. The equipment was gone, leaving behind only the bare essentials—two empty beds, a table, and a couple of chairs. It was an oddly sterile environment, like they hadn’t bothered to even clean up after whoever had been using it.

I walked in, my steps heavy, my legs shaking a little from the lingering effects of whatever had been done to me. The guard motioned toward one of the beds. “Sit,” he ordered gruffly.

I didn’t feel like arguing, so I sat down, trying to get a better sense of the room, of what was happening. As soon as I did, chains appeared out of nowhere, snapping around my wrists, locking me down onto the bed.

“Seriously?” I muttered under my breath. I could feel my heart rate picking up, the familiar sense of panic creeping in as the reality of my situation sank in.

The guard casually walked toward the door and listened, his back turned, like he didn’t have a care in the world. He was probably waiting for orders. But before I could fully process what was happening, the door swung open again, and Mr. Drails stepped in, his expression unreadable, his usual calm demeanor replaced by something else. Something… fierce.

Without a second thought, he reached out, struck the guard squarely on the head, and sent him tumbling to the floor. The guard hit the ground with a sickening thud, blood trickling from his nose. I couldn’t help but stare in surprise. Mr. Drails wasn’t the type to get physical, but in that moment, he’d just taken down a fully armed guard with a single blow.

A second guard appeared, gun drawn, but Mr. Drails didn’t even flinch. He simply walked to the bed and lay down, his wrists free, as if everything was normal.

That’s when I realized things were about to get really interesting.

Suddenly, the door swung open again, and Demeitrus Rocke strolled in, wearing a smirk that could melt steel. His coat was old-fashioned, with a fur collar that looked out of place, like he was trying to channel some sort of villainous vibe.

“Well, well, well. Look who’s finally awake,” he said with a chuckle, his eyes scanning both Mr. Drails and me. “Perkies, huh? I like that. Has a nice ring to it.”

He sat down in the chair opposite us, his casual demeanor making my skin crawl. “I was wondering when you’d wake up,” he continued, clearly enjoying the moment. “It’s already ten AM, and you'd think you’d be up and about, full of energy. But then again, I'm not exactly an expert on how young kids operate.”

Mr. Drails wasn’t impressed. His gaze was cold, calculating, and fixed on Rocke. “How did you acquire the copying power?” he demanded, his voice cutting through the tension in the room. “No one’s ever seen or heard of a power like that. It’s extremely strong.”

Rocke grinned, clearly savoring the moment. “Well, let’s break it down for you, shall we?” He leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled in front of him. “Let’s say you’re a fire mage. Your power comes from fire, right?”

Mr. Drails gave him a sharp look. “How about an ice mage, virtuoso?”

“Sure,” Rocke replied, unbothered. “Fire and Ice, two very different types of magic, but when combined, you get some pretty fascinating results. In 2010, I discovered something incredible—a molecule I named ADA-4. It had the ability to incorporate every known power of mankind. Each connector cell can store up to four powers.” He looked at us, his grin widening. “Now, when it came to Perks, I had to get creative.”

I listened intently, my curiosity piqued despite myself. But Rocke wasn’t done.

“See, when people first acquire a new ability, it’s not always easy for them to control. They’re often all over the place. But if you link that power to a molecule... well, maybe you have a little more influence over it.”

I almost couldn’t believe what I was hearing. He’d actually figured out how to harness other people’s powers. But why? What did he want with all this?

“Why the Armonk, Rocke?” I blurted out, cutting through the silence.

He leaned forward, eyes lighting up. “The cloning machine. Imagine it—creating an army of individuals with special abilities, unstoppable forces to take on the United States. Who could stand against us? Not even the military.” He paused, rubbing his hands together. “But there’s a problem. Micheal Jones is proving difficult. He won’t give up the location, even after I offered him a ton of money.”

I felt a shiver run down my spine at the thought of Jones being used as some sort of pawn. But my curiosity only grew. What was this machine really capable of?

Mr. Drails narrowed his eyes, his voice steady but filled with fury. “So why are we here?”

Rocke stood up, his posture now stiff and imposing. “To revoke your privileges and allocate them to my clones. I need portals—portals that can transport fighters to any place they’re needed. A force that turns peaceful fields into battlegrounds. It’ll be magnificent, and it will elevate me to a new level.”

The air in the room seemed to grow thick, oppressive, as if the walls were closing in. I could barely breathe. What was his endgame? What was he really planning?

But before I could process it all, tubes descended from the ceiling, attaching themselves to my limbs and head. I felt a sharp, agonizing sting as they began to drain my blood, pulling it out of me at an alarming rate.

“I need this for my experiment,” Rocke said casually, watching my reaction. “Don’t worry, everything will be fine.” But the pain in my body only worsened, and I could barely keep my eyes open.

Suddenly, a flash of sunlight streamed through the window, a welcome distraction. The tubes retracted, and Rocke stood up with a pleased smile. “Wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asked, his voice light and almost smug. “I’ll check in on everyone’s progress later.”