The pain came first.
A raw, searing sensation that crawled through every nerve ending before his consciousness could even register it. Then came awareness—fragmented, disjointed, like shards of a broken mirror reflecting distorted pieces of reality.
His eyes opened to darkness and dust.
The air was thick with particles that danced in the thin beams of light filtering through cracks in what remained of the ceiling. Each breath felt like inhaling glass, scraping his lungs raw. Instinctively, he raised a hand to shield his face, watching as the dust motes swirled around his fingers in the dim light.
*Where am I?*
The thought emerged from the chaos of his mind, a simple question that should have had a simple answer. Yet nothing came. No recognition. No memory.
He tried to move, feeling rubble shift beneath him. His body responded, but with a strange disconnect—as if he were piloting a machine rather than inhabiting his own flesh. Slowly, he pushed himself up, concrete and steel debris cascading from his torso. His movements dislodged a steel beam that crashed to the ground, the sound reverberating through the destroyed structure.
Standing now, he surveyed his surroundings. He was in what appeared to be the remnants of a laboratory. Shattered glass containers lined the walls, their contents long since evaporated or spilled. Twisted metal frames that once held sophisticated equipment now resembled abstract sculptures. Computer terminals, their screens cracked or completely destroyed, sat silent on overturned desks.
And everywhere, there was dust. A fine layer of it covered every surface, suggesting that whatever had happened here had happened long ago.
*But what did happen?*
He moved toward one of the less damaged computer terminals, his footsteps leaving clear imprints in the dust. The screen was cracked but still intact. He pressed what he assumed was the power button, not expecting a response. To his surprise, the screen flickered weakly to life, bathing his face in a pale blue glow.
The date displayed in the corner caught his attention immediately.
March 17, 2075.
Something about that triggered a response deep within him. A memory trying to surface.
*That's... wrong. That can't be right.*
But why? Why did that date feel wrong? What was the last date he remembered?
Nothing came. Just a vast emptiness where memories should be.
He navigated through the system with surprising ease, his fingers moving across the damaged keyboard as if guided by muscle memory. Most of the files were corrupted or inaccessible, but he managed to open a video file labeled simply "ZERO."
The screen displayed a laboratory—this laboratory, but intact, pristine, filled with state-of-the-art equipment. A woman in a white lab coat stood at the center of the frame, her face serious but with kind eyes behind rimless glasses. Her dark hair was pulled back in a tight bun, accentuating her sharp features.
"Test subject Zero continues to show remarkable progress," she said, speaking directly to the camera. "Cognitive functions are developing at an unprecedented rate. Physical capabilities exceed all projections. However, I remain concerned about the emotional development. Unlike the theoretical models, Zero is displaying empathy, curiosity, and... I would almost say a sense of moral judgment."
She paused, glancing over her shoulder as if to ensure she was alone.
"The board insists these are flaws in the design, but I disagree. I believe these qualities make Zero uniquely valuable. Not just as a tool, but as a bridge to something... more."
The video abruptly cut to static, then resumed with the same woman looking more disheveled, her eyes wide with urgency.
"They're coming. They've deemed the project a failure and ordered termination. I can't let that happen. Zero is too important. I've initiated Protocol Lazarus. If this works, we'll both be—"
The video cut out entirely, leaving him staring at his own reflection in the darkened screen. A face he didn't recognize looked back at him—sharp features, pale skin, eyes that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. His head was shaved, accentuating the angular structure of his skull.
*Zero. Is that... me?*
The word resonated within him, triggering a cascade of sensations that weren't quite memories—more like impressions, feelings, fragments of knowledge without context.
A sudden noise from outside the ruined laboratory snapped him back to awareness. Footsteps. Multiple sets. Approaching rapidly.
Without conscious thought, he moved to a position of concealment behind a fallen support column, his body responding with a fluid grace that belied the confusion in his mind. His heartbeat remained steady, his breathing controlled—physical responses at odds with the situation.
The footsteps drew closer, accompanied now by the soft glow of flashlights sweeping through the dusty air. Three figures entered the laboratory, each dressed in dark tactical gear, their faces obscured by masks that covered everything but their eyes. They moved with military precision, weapons held at the ready.
"Sweep complete on levels one through three," one of them spoke into a communication device. "Beginning final sweep of sublevel four."
"Any signs of activity?" a voice crackled in response.
"Negative. Place is a tomb, just like the last dozen times we've checked. I don't know why Central keeps sending us back here."
"Orders are orders. Complete the sweep and report back."
The three figures began methodically moving through the ruins, their flashlights illuminating sections of the laboratory he hadn't yet explored.
Zero—he had decided to accept this designation for now—remained perfectly still. Even his breathing seemed to slow to an impossible degree, as if his body could consciously control autonomic functions. He watched as one of the figures approached the computer terminal he had just been using.
"Hey, check this out," the figure called to the others. "This terminal's been activated recently."
The other two quickly joined him, their flashlights converging on the screen.
"That's impossible," one said. "Power to this facility was cut fifteen years ago."
*Fifteen years?*
"Well, something turned it on. And look—someone accessed this file."
"Damn it. Central's not going to like this. Sweep the entire level again. Whoever was here might still be close."
As they spread out to begin a more thorough search, Zero assessed his options. The exit was blocked by two of the figures. The third was moving in his direction. In moments, the flashlight would reveal his position.
Time seemed to slow as information processed through his mind with inhuman speed. Angles, distances, probabilities—all calculated in an instant.
The moment the flashlight beam approached his hiding spot, Zero moved.
He lunged forward with shocking velocity, closing the distance to the nearest figure before the man could even register his presence. A precise strike to the throat collapsed the trachea, silencing any alarm. As the figure crumpled, Zero caught the falling flashlight with one hand and the weapon with the other.
The second figure reacted quickly, raising his weapon, but Zero was already in motion. He threw the flashlight with deadly accuracy, striking the man's forehead with enough force to stagger him. In the split second of disorientation, Zero closed the gap and delivered a strike to the temple that rendered the man unconscious instantly.
The third figure managed to fire a single shot that Zero somehow... anticipated. He tilted his head slightly, the bullet passing close enough that he felt its displacement of air against his cheek. Then he was on the shooter, disarming him with a twist of the wrist that bordered on elegance rather than violence.
"What are you?" the man gasped as Zero lifted him by the throat.
Zero tilted his head slightly, studying the fear in the man's eyes. "I was hoping you might tell me."
"You're... you're supposed to be dead," the man choked out. "You died in the explosion... with Dr. Chen..."
*Dr. Chen.* The name triggered something—a flash of the woman from the video, smiling at him. A feeling of... trust?
"What explosion?" Zero demanded, loosening his grip just enough to allow the man to speak.
"Fifteen years ago... this facility... you and Dr. Chen were working on something... it went wrong... everyone died."
*I died?*
"Who sent you here?"
"ARCHIVE... we're just security... routine sweep... please..."
Zero heard the man's heart racing, smelled the acrid tang of fear in his sweat. He could tell the man was telling the truth—or at least what he believed to be the truth.
"What is ARCHIVE?"
The man's eyes widened. "You don't... how can you not know? They're... they're everything. They run everything."
A sound from outside the laboratory caught Zero's attention—more footsteps, many more. Reinforcements.
"How many in your team?"
"Six... in the building. But they've already called for backup."
Zero released the man, who collapsed to the ground gasping for air. "Thank you for your cooperation."
With swift efficiency, Zero stripped the tactical gear from the unconscious men and donned it himself. The fit was imperfect but serviceable. He collected their weapons and communication devices, then moved toward the exit, his mind processing multiple escape scenarios simultaneously.
As he reached the doorway, he paused, looking back at the ruined laboratory. Something compelled him to return to the computer terminal. He downloaded the video file onto a portable drive he found in one of the desks, then deliberately destroyed the terminal.
The action felt significant, though he couldn't articulate why.
Outside the laboratory, he navigated the darkened corridors of what appeared to be a vast research facility. His movement was silent, efficient, guided by an intuition that transcended conscious thought. He avoided two more patrol teams by seemingly anticipating their routes before any visual or auditory cues were apparent.
Eventually, he emerged into the cool night air. The facility was built into the side of a mountain, its entrance camouflaged by the surrounding forest. In the distance, he could see the lights of what appeared to be a small base camp—likely where the security teams were operating from.
Zero moved in the opposite direction, disappearing into the dense forest with the preternatural ease of a predator in its natural environment. He traveled for hours without rest, putting significant distance between himself and the facility.
As dawn broke over the horizon, he found himself at the edge of the forest, overlooking a vast expanse of barren land. In the far distance, he could see the gleaming spires of a city unlike anything in his fragmented memory. The structures seemed to defy gravity, twisting into the sky like metallic vines reaching for the sun.
*Neo-Tokyo*, his mind supplied, though he had no idea how he knew this.
Something caught his eye—a glint of metal near the forest's edge. Approaching cautiously, he discovered a small shelter cleverly disguised to blend with the surrounding foliage. Inside was a cache of supplies: food, water, clothing, and a small device that resembled a computer, though far more advanced than the terminal in the laboratory.
Zero activated the device. The screen illuminated with a simple message:
"If you are reading this, then Protocol Lazarus was successful. The path ahead is dangerous, but necessary. Find me in Neo-Tokyo. Trust no one from ARCHIVE. They believe we are dead. Let them continue to believe that.
—E.C."
*E.C. Dr. Evelyn Chen?*
The name came to him unbidden, along with a fleeting image of the woman from the video, her hand on his shoulder, her voice gentle but firm: "Remember, Zero, you are more than what they designed you to be."
Zero sat in the shelter as the sun rose higher, illuminating the barren landscape that separated him from Neo-Tokyo. From Dr. Chen. From answers.
He examined the weapons he had taken from the security team. Their design was unfamiliar, more advanced than anything in his fractured memory. He field-stripped one with practiced ease, noting its components, its capabilities. His hands moved with certainty even as his mind remained clouded.
The communications device he had taken crackled to life suddenly, making him tense.
"All units, report back to base immediately. Repeat, all units return to base. We have confirmation of intrusion at Site 19. Subject Zero is alive and active. This is not a drill. Initiate Protocol Containment."
Zero switched off the device, his expression unreadable. *They know I'm alive. They're hunting me.* The thought should have triggered fear, but instead, he felt something else stirring within him. Purpose. Determination.
He gathered the supplies from the shelter, including the device with Dr. Chen's message. As he prepared to leave, he noticed something else—a small box hidden beneath a false floor panel. Inside was a vial containing a luminescent blue liquid and another note:
"If memories become too fragmented, use this. Warning: Synchronization is painful and may reveal more than you are prepared to face. Use only if absolutely necessary.
—E.C."
Zero carefully packed the vial, then stepped out of the shelter and faced the direction of Neo-Tokyo. The city shimmered in the distance like a mirage, its impossible architecture a testament to fifteen years of progress—fifteen years he apparently had no memory of. Fifteen years during which the world believed him dead.
*Who am I? What am I?*
The questions echoed in his mind as he began the journey across the barren lands toward Neo-Tokyo. Toward answers. Toward Dr. Evelyn Chen.
Toward the truth of his existence.
As Zero walked, memories continued to surface—disconnected fragments that offered glimpses but no cohesion. A laboratory different from the ruined one. A voice teaching him... something. Combat techniques. Languages. Scientific principles. A hand guiding his own as he learned to write.
One memory came more clearly than the others: standing before a mirror, a much younger version of himself, with Dr. Chen beside him.
"What am I?" his younger self had asked.
"You are the first," Dr. Chen had replied, her voice gentle but firm. "The beginning. Zero."
"But what does that mean?"
Dr. Chen had smiled, though there was sadness in her eyes. "It means your story is yet to be written. And you, unlike the others, will have the freedom to write it yourself."
The memory faded, leaving Zero standing alone on the barren plain, the weight of those words settling within him. *Freedom to write my own story.* The concept resonated deeply, though he didn't fully understand why.
In the distance, Neo-Tokyo gleamed like a beacon. Somewhere within that sprawling metropolis were answers. Dr. Chen. His past. And perhaps, his future.
Zero continued forward, each step carrying him further from the ashes of his forgotten life and closer to the truth that awaited him.
Behind him, the shelter burst into flames—a failsafe mechanism, he somehow knew, designed to eliminate evidence of its existence. Zero didn't look back. His gaze remained fixed on the horizon, on Neo-Tokyo, on the path ahead.
The hunt had begun. But who was the hunter, and who was the prey? In the depths of his fragmented mind, Zero suspected that even Dr. Chen didn't know the full answer to that question.
And as the sun climbed higher in the sky, casting his shadow long across the barren ground, Zero felt the first stirrings of something beyond confusion and purpose.
*Anticipation.*
Whatever awaited him in Neo-Tokyo, whatever truth lay hidden behind the veil of his fractured memory, he would face it. He would understand it.
He would master it.
Because despite everything he didn't know about himself, one certainty had emerged from the ashes of his memory:
He was Zero. The first. The beginning.
And his story was far from over.
---
In the shadowed chamber of ARCHIVE's Command Center, five figures observed the satellite feed tracking movement across the barren zone between Site 19 and Neo-Tokyo. The lone figure moving with inhuman endurance across the wasteland was marked with a pulsing red indicator.
"Impossible," one of the figures murmured, voice distorted by the modulator that concealed their identity. "Site 19 was destroyed. Nothing could have survived."
"Evidently, something did," replied another, this voice colder, more mechanical.
"Zero was a failure," said a third. "Dr. Chen's greatest mistake. The emotional programming made it unstable, unpredictable."
"And yet," the fourth figure spoke, voice tinged with curiosity, "it survived an explosion that vaporized reinforced neutronium. Perhaps Dr. Chen's approach had merit after all."
The fifth figure, standing slightly apart from the others, remained silent, observing the tracking feed with an intensity that bordered on fascination.
"What are your orders?" one of them finally asked, addressing the fifth figure.
After a moment of consideration, the fifth figure spoke, voice carrying the unmistakable tone of authority:
"Alert Agent Nine. Zero is heading for Neo-Tokyo. Let's see what Dr. Chen's creation is capable of before we decide whether to terminate it... again."
"And if Zero reaches Neo-Tokyo?"
The fifth figure's lips curved into what might have been a smile, though it never reached their eyes.
"Then the real test begins."
The screen tracking Zero pulsed steadily as the lone figure continued its relentless journey toward the gleaming spires of Neo-Tokyo, unaware of the eyes watching from above, unaware of the forces being marshaled against it.
Unaware that its awakening had set in motion events that would shake the very foundations of the world.