The Boys: I'm the Origin of Compound V

Chapter 3: Experimentation and Agony

The world returned in fragments—sharp, disjointed flashes of light, muffled voices, and the distinct metallic tang of blood. Adam's eyelids fluttered open, his vision swimming as he tried to piece together his surroundings. The air smelled sterile but carried an underlying stench of decay.

A voice, clipped and clinical, cut through the haze.

"Subject's vitals are steady, though his blood's luminous properties remain unprecedented. Increased extraction is recommended. Inform Dr. Vought."

Pain radiated through Adam's arms, the sensation dragging him further into consciousness. He tried to move, only to feel the cold bite of restraints digging into his wrists and ankles. He blinked against the blinding light above him, his body trembling with weakness. When his vision cleared, he saw them—tubes protruding from his arms, their contents flowing into glass cylinders filled with a vibrant, electric-blue liquid. His own blood.

A surge of panic jolted him, and he struggled against the restraints.

"Hey! What the hell is going on?" His voice came out as a hoarse croak.

The room's occupants—a pair of lab-coated figures scribbling on clipboards—turned to him with casual disinterest. One of them, a middle-aged man with wire-rimmed glasses, leaned closer, his face partially obscured by a surgical mask.

"Ah, the subject is conscious," he remarked, his tone devoid of emotion.

"Subject?" Adam growled, his voice stronger now. "I'm a person, not your damn science project!"

The man ignored him, turning to the other scientist. "Administer another sedative. The subject's agitation may interfere with the extraction process."

"Don't you dare!" Adam snarled, thrashing against the restraints. The effort sent sharp jolts of pain through his limbs, but he refused to stop. "Let me go, you sick—"

A sharp prick in his neck cut him off, followed by a cold numbness spreading through his veins. His limbs grew heavy, and his head lolled to the side. The last thing he saw before the darkness claimed him was the glass cylinders filling with more of his glowing blood.

When Adam woke again, his head throbbed, and his body ached as though it had been run over by a freight train. He lay on a metal slab, his arms and legs still restrained. The room was quieter now, save for the hum of machinery. The tubes were gone, but his arms throbbed where they had been inserted, the skin bruised and tender.

"Good, you're awake."

The voice was new—deep, commanding, and laced with an accent Adam couldn't quite place. He turned his head to see a man standing at the foot of the table, his dark suit immaculate and his piercing blue eyes scanning Adam like a predator sizing up its prey.

"Who the hell are you?" Adam spat, his throat raw.

"Dr. Frederick Vought," the man replied smoothly. "And you, my dear boy, are a marvel of science. Or at least, you will be once we understand the full extent of your potential."

Adam glared at him, his hands clenching into fists. "You're stealing my blood," he hissed. "Torturing me like some lab rat. You call that science?"

Vought's lips twitched into a faint smile. "Torture is such a crude term. Think of this as… exploration. Your blood is extraordinary—unlike anything this world has ever seen. It glows, for heaven's sake. And the power it contains…" He trailed off, his eyes gleaming with a mix of curiosity and greed.

"What power?" Adam demanded, his voice trembling with both anger and fear.

Vought stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. "That is precisely what I intend to find out."

Before Adam could respond, Vought turned to a console on the wall and pressed a series of buttons. The restraints on Adam's wrists and ankles released with a hiss, and his body slumped forward. His muscles screamed in protest as he tried to sit up, but his limbs refused to cooperate.

"Stand," Vought ordered, his tone sharp.

Adam glared at him, his body trembling with the effort to move. "Go to hell."

Vought sighed, shaking his head. "Stubbornness will only prolong your suffering." He pressed another button, and a jolt of electricity coursed through Adam's body. He screamed, the pain searing through every nerve ending.

"Stop!" he gasped, his voice hoarse.

The electricity ceased, leaving Adam panting and drenched in sweat.

"Stand," Vought repeated, his voice cold.

This time, Adam obeyed. His legs wobbled as he pushed himself upright, his vision swimming. Every movement sent fresh waves of pain through his body, but he refused to show weakness.

"Good," Vought said, his tone approving. "Now, let's see what you're capable of."

The experiments were relentless.

Days turned into weeks—maybe months; Adam couldn't tell anymore. Each day was a new form of agony: injections of unknown substances, exposure to extreme heat and cold, electric shocks designed to push his body to its limits. Through it all, Vought observed with detached fascination, scribbling notes and barking orders to his team of scientists.

Adam's body grew weaker with each passing day, his luminous blood drained in ever-increasing quantities. He called out to the system—pleaded with it to help him—but it remained silent, its cryptic messages a distant memory.

He was alone.

One night, as Adam lay curled on the cold metal floor of his cell, a thought struck him. His blood—Vought had said it contained power. If it was good enough for them to steal, maybe it was good enough to save him.

Desperation clawing at his chest, Adam bit into his own arm, his teeth piercing the bruised flesh. The taste of copper filled his mouth as his glowing blood trickled onto his tongue. He swallowed, his stomach churning with both disgust and hope.

At first, nothing happened. Then, a faint warmth spread through his body, growing stronger with each passing second. His vision sharpened, and for the first time in weeks, he felt a spark of strength return to his limbs.

"System," he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. "Answer me."

For a moment, there was silence. Then, the familiar mechanical voice returned, cold and indifferent.

"Then how do I get out of here?" Adam demanded, his voice trembling with frustration.

Adam's heart sank. Sacrifice everything? The thought terrified him, but the alternative was staying here—trapped, tortured, and drained until there was nothing left of him.

He took a deep breath, his jaw tightening.

"Do it."

The cell around him began to warp and distort, the walls melting into a kaleidoscope of colors. Adam felt his body being pulled in every direction, the sensation both exhilarating and nauseating.

"Wherever I end up," he thought, his determination solidifying, "Vought will pay."

The world exploded into light, and Adam vanished.