Bruce moved to a side room and changed into loose athletic clothing. Then he returned to the main lab and pulled up his research files on the central computer.
The Breakthrough Formula stared back at him, pages of complex chemistry and biology.
He'd created it three years ago as a contingency. The formula worked by dramatically accelerating cellular metabolism and optimization.
It would push his Physique stat from 92 to 100 in a matter of hours, achieving what should take months of training. The cost was extraordinary pain as his body underwent rapid transformation.
But Bruce's Spirit stat was 78. His willpower had been forged through nine years of pushing past limits. He could endure it.
'Has to be done,' he thought, reviewing the data one final time. 'No other choice. The world isn't going to wait for me to be ready.'
"ARIA, I'm ready. Prepare the injection."
"Preparing now."
A robotic arm emerged from the medical cart, holding a syringe filled with clear liquid. The formula looked innocuous, almost like water. Nothing about its appearance suggested it would cause the kind of agony Bruce knew was coming.
He sat in the medical chair and began attaching monitoring equipment. Heart rate monitor across his chest. Blood pressure cuff on his arm. EEG sensors on his head. Pulse oximeter on his finger. Within minutes, he was wired up completely.
"All baseline readings nominal," ARIA reported. "Heart rate 62 beats per minute. Blood pressure 118 over 76. Core temperature 98.4 degrees Fahrenheit. Brain activity normal. You are in excellent health."
"Good. Let's make it even better."
Bruce secured the restraints around his wrists and ankles. They were necessary. The pain would make him thrash involuntarily, and he couldn't risk damaging the monitoring equipment or injuring himself.
"Final safety check," ARIA said. "Emergency medical supplies ready. Defibrillator charged and standing by. I have calculated a 94.7% probability of successful completion based on your current physical condition and willpower. The remaining 5.3% accounts for unpredictable biological factors."
"I'll take those odds."
"Injection ready. On your mark, Bruce."
Bruce took three deep breaths, centering himself. Years of meditation and mental training kicked in. He visualized the process: pain, transformation, emergence at peak human capability. He'd survive this. He'd endured worse in the Pocket Dimension. This was just another test of will.
'For the mission,' he thought. 'For the Justice League. For the world that's going to need heroes very soon.'
"Do it."
The robotic arm moved smoothly, pressing the syringe against his arm. The needle pierced skin. The plunger depressed. Clear liquid entered his bloodstream.
"Formula administered," ARIA confirmed. "Beginning continuous monitoring. Estimated onset of effects in ten to fifteen seconds."
Bruce counted silently. One. Two. Three. Four.
Nothing yet. His body felt normal. The formula was spreading through his bloodstream, microscopic molecules seeking out cells and beginning their work.
Eight. Nine. Ten.
Still nothing. For a moment Bruce wondered if something had gone wrong, if the formula had degraded during storage.
Fifteen.
Then the fire started.
'Time to level up,' Bruce thought as he braced himself mentally.
It began at the injection site, a burning sensation that quickly intensified. Within seconds, it spread up his arm into his shoulder, across his chest, racing through his circulatory system like liquid flame.
"Vitals spiking," ARIA reported, her calm voice a stark contrast to what Bruce was experiencing. "Heart rate 140 and accelerating. Blood pressure 160 over 95. Core temperature rising. Formula is active."
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