Dr. Weiss stepped through the smoke like death wearing a medical degree, his pristine white coat untouched by the carnage around him. Gold-rimmed spectacles caught the harsh fluorescent light, and his smile was the kind that belonged in psychiatric textbooks under "Warning Signs of Dangerous Obsession."
"Such exquisite work," he murmured, surveying the unconscious soldiers with the appreciation of a connoisseur examining fine art. "Though I'm afraid playtime is over, my dear colleague."
Zero tensed beside me like a coiled spring, ready to strike with lethal precision, but Weiss merely flicked his wrist with the casual elegance of someone conducting an orchestra. Something invisible wrapped around Zero's limbs—nanowire threads too thin for the human eye to detect, gleaming like spider silk made of nightmares.
My perfect weapon collapsed like a marionette with severed strings, bound by technology that made my medical training scream warnings about things that shouldn't exist.
*Nanowire restraints. Of course. Because regular handcuffs are for amateurs who lack imagination.*
"Now then," Weiss said, approaching me with the measured steps of a predator who knew his prey had nowhere left to run. "Let's have a proper examination, shall we? I've been so looking forward to this consultation."
I pressed my back against the wall, fighting the dizziness from psychic exhaustion that made the world tilt at dangerous angles. Every survival instinct I possessed screamed at me to run, but my legs felt like they were made of lead and broken promises.
Weiss stopped inches away, close enough that I could smell his cologne—something expensive and European that couldn't quite mask the underlying scent of formaldehyde and barely contained madness. His leather-gloved fingers reached out to trace my throat with the delicacy of someone handling a priceless Ming vase.
"Magnificent," he breathed, thumb pressing against my Adam's apple with just enough pressure to make swallowing difficult. "Such perfect bone structure. Such exquisite vulnerability hiding beneath that cold facade."
**[LIVESTREAM - VIEWERS: 31,247,891]**
→ @BloodRose_666: THIS IS TOO INTENSE I CAN'T LOOK AWAY BUT I WANT TO
→ @ChaosQueen: The way Weiss is looking at him like he's a rare specimen
→ @ShadowLord donated 15,000,000 credits: "MOST TERRIFYING DOCTOR IN EXISTENCE"
→ @OmegaLover: Someone save him please this is pure nightmare fuel
→ @Anonymous_7749: The sexual tension is off the charts and I'm scared
The bone knife appeared in his other hand like a magician's trick—impossibly thin, sharp enough to split atoms and probably several laws of physics. He drew it across my throat in one fluid motion that spoke of years of practice, and I felt the familiar sting of steel parting skin with surgical precision.
Blood welled up immediately, hot and copper-bright, trickling down my neck like liquid rubies against pale skin. Weiss watched the crimson flow with the fascination of a child seeing snow for the first time, his pupils dilating with something that was definitely not medical interest.
"Perfect," he whispered, voice thick with anticipation. "Now, let's see what makes you tick, my beautiful specimen."
His eyes rolled back as he activated his S-class ability, and I felt something alien and hungry pressing against the edges of my consciousness like parasites seeking a warm host. Mental tendrils, seeking entry through the blood he'd so carefully spilled.
*Psychic invasion through biological contact. Textbook S-class manipulation technique. Too bad for him he picked the wrong host for his little experiment.*
The moment his mental parasites touched my blood, everything went catastrophically sideways.
**[SYSTEM ALERT: PASSIVE ABILITY TRIGGERED]**
**[REVERSE DOMINATION ACTIVATED - SSS CLASS]**
**[TARGET: DR. WEISS - MENTAL INVASION DETECTED AND COUNTERED]**
**[COUNTERMEASURE: PURIFICATION OVERLOAD INITIATED]**
My blood wasn't just blood—it was liquid fire, molten purification energy that had been waiting for exactly this kind of invitation. The psychic connection Weiss had so confidently established became a highway to hell, and my power roared down it like a freight train made of righteous fury and divine retribution.
I felt the exact moment it hit his mind like a sledgehammer to the soul. Weiss's eyes went wide with shock, then rolled back as my memories crashed into his consciousness like a tsunami of pain and fire and loss.
*Welcome to my personal hell, Doctor. I hope you enjoy the guided tour of my trauma.*
The images flooded through him without mercy—burning hospitals where I'd failed to save lives, screaming patients whose names I still remembered, the crushing weight of every death that had happened on my watch. But underneath it all was something else, something that made Weiss's breath catch in his throat like a drowning man.
A child's laughter, bright and pure. A small hand in mine, trusting and warm. The memory of someone precious, someone lost, someone who'd called me "big brother" with absolute faith that I could fix anything.
"No," Weiss gasped, tears streaming down his face as my memories overlapped with his own like a double-exposed photograph of grief. "Not again. Please, not him again."
He collapsed to his knees as if his strings had been cut, hands clutching at his head as the psychic feedback tore through his mental defenses like tissue paper in a hurricane. The composed, elegant predator was gone, replaced by a broken man reliving his worst nightmare in high definition.
"Brother," he sobbed, reaching for me with trembling fingers that shook like autumn leaves. "My little brother. I couldn't save him. I couldn't protect him. I failed him just like you failed—"
I grabbed his chin with blood-slicked fingers, forcing him to look at me with eyes that were drowning in shared pain. Blood from my throat wound smeared across my skin as I painted his lips with crimson like the world's most twisted lipstick.
"Does it taste good?" I asked, voice cold as a winter morgue and twice as final.
Weiss's tongue darted out instinctively, licking the blood from his lips like a man dying of thirst. The moment my blood hit his system, his entire body convulsed as if he'd been struck by lightning. More purification energy flooded his nervous system, and I watched his pupils dilate with something that was equal parts agony and ecstasy.
The urge to kneel, to submit, to worship something greater than himself hit him like a physical blow. I could see him fighting it with everything he had, his S-class pride warring with the overwhelming compulsion to prostrate himself before a power that dwarfed his own.
**[LIVESTREAM CHAT]**
→ @BloodRose_666: HIS BLOOD IS LITERALLY ADDICTIVE WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL
→ @ChaosQueen: Weiss is having a complete psychological breakdown in real time
→ @ShadowLord: The power reversal is giving me actual chills
→ @Anonymous_0001: Most intense psychological warfare ever witnessed by human eyes
→ @OmegaLover: The way they're looking at each other I'M NOT OKAY
The internal struggle was written across Weiss's face in real time—reason versus instinct, pride versus submission, sanity versus the growing need to surrender everything to the man whose blood tasted like salvation and damnation combined.
Finally, with a sound of pure frustration that bordered on a scream, he raised his hand and slapped himself across the face hard enough to leave fingerprints and probably cause a concussion.
The sharp crack of palm against cheek echoed through the room like a gunshot, and for a moment, clarity returned to his eyes. But with it came horror at what he'd almost done, what he'd almost become.
"Forgive me," he whispered, dropping to one knee with the reverence of a knight before his king. His hands shook as he pulled out medical supplies with the desperate efficiency of someone trying to atone for a mortal sin. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. Please, please forgive me."
He treated my throat wound with the careful precision of someone handling a holy relic, his touch gentle despite the tremor in his fingers. Every movement spoke of desperate need to make amends, to prove his worth to something he was beginning to see as divine.
"I'm sorry," he kept repeating like a broken prayer, voice cracking with emotion. "I'm so sorry. I should never have touched you. Should never have presumed—"
When he finished bandaging the cut, he remained kneeling, clutching the hem of my shirt like a lifeline in a storm. His voice was hoarse when he spoke again, raw with desperate need.
"Your blood," he said, eyes wild with obsession that burned brighter than before. "It tastes like him. Like my brother. Where is he? Where are you hiding him? I know he's here somewhere—I can taste him in you."
The madness was back, burning brighter than ever, but before I could answer his increasingly unhinged questions, the facility's emergency klaxons began wailing with the sound of approaching apocalypse.
**[SYSTEM ALERT: MAXIMUM SECURITY BREACH - LEVEL 18]**
**[CONTAINMENT FAILURE CONFIRMED]**
**[S-CLASS ENTITY ESCAPE DETECTED]**
**[FACILITY LOCKDOWN INITIATED - PRAY TO YOUR GODS]**
Red emergency lights bathed everything in the color of fresh blood as the automated voice began its death knell announcement with mechanical calm:
"Attention all personnel. Level 18 containment breach detected. S-class entity has escaped primary holding. This is not a drill. Seek immediate shelter or prepare for termination."
Weiss's face went white as fresh snow, all the color draining from his features like someone had opened a valve. "Level 18," he breathed, voice barely a whisper. "That's impossible. Nothing escapes from Level 18. Nothing."
I leaned back against the wall, tasting copper and irony in equal measure while the emergency lights painted everything in shades of disaster. The night had started with routine medical consultations and had somehow escalated to psychic warfare, prison breaks, and what sounded like the beginning of the apocalypse.
*And here I thought performing surgery on a ticking time bomb was going to be the highlight of my evening. How naive I was.*
"Looks like we're about to have company," I said, watching the emergency lights strobe like a disco from hell. "Hope you're ready for some real emergency medicine, Doctor."
The sound of something massive moving through the facility's lower levels echoed up through the floor—something that made the building itself tremble with primal fear.
Whatever was coming up from Level 18, it was big, it was angry, and it was heading straight for us.
*This night just keeps getting better and better.*