"Zero"
Dear viewer, good morning. It is November 29, 2019, 3:00 p.m. Here are today's headlines.
— A new scandal is rocking the United States. — Following the discovery of multiple acts of corruption within the government, a group of whistleblowers calling themselves NoName continues to destabilize the world order by leaking confidential documents, secret transactions, and classified communications.
The anchor pauses. His smile is frozen. A bead of sweat rolls down his temple. — Authorities are calling it an unprecedented act of informational terrorism...
Tchhhp. Channel change.
— Breaking news: the Japanese government has launched a ballistic missile. — Despite official statements claiming mere military exercises, the international community is growing concerned...
Thhhp. Channel change.
— The British Prime Minister was arrested at his residence this morning. — These arrests follow explosive revelations from the group NoName...
Thhhp. Channel change.
— In France, the President announces a massive reinforcement of the armed forces and the reinstatement of mandatory military service. — The government cites a historic necessity in the face of global threat.
The camera shakes slightly. Thhhp. Channel change.
— We are currently with a protester opposing the militarization of the country. — Ma'am, what do you think of the current world situation?
A woman, eyes weary, clutches an oversized coat around her. — I'm scared... Her voice breaks. — I'm scared for my children... My God... what will become of us? — War is here... it's knocking at our doors...
Sobs. Silence. Tchhhp. Channel change.
— Breaking news. — The group NoName has just revealed the existence of an absolutely top-secret classified program...
The journalist swallows hard. — According to our sources... war orphans were integrated into a secret program aimed at... He hesitates. — ...turning them into human weapons.
A murmur ripples through the studio. — This is... the biggest scandal of our decade. — The government can no longer remain silent.
A voice in his earpiece. His eyes widen. — I have a name. — Yes... it appears to be the program... — "ZERO"
Thhhhp. The screen goes black. Silence.
A dark room. A motionless silhouette behind a massive desk. — Sir...
... BAM! The door bursts open. — Sir, the protest outside the White House is spiraling out of control. — The people demand a speech. We can't maintain silence any longer. — Any information on this group... NoName? — None, sir. — This is the largest leak in U.S. history. — Why are they doing this? — Motives unknown. — And the FBI? — Completely paralyzed, sir. — We've never seen anything like it.
The man rises slowly. He adjusts his tie. — Very well. — Send a few politicians to prison for corruption. — Gotta throw the people a bone.
He smiles. — As for me... I'll put on my best smile to announce the end of the world. — Haha. — And regarding Project Zero, sir? — How are the advancements? — Fifty subjects. — Genetically modified. — Extremely promising.
A heavy silence. — Good. — Terminate the program.
The smile doesn't fade. — As for the subjects... make them disappear. — Pin it all on some corrupt politician.
He turns to the window. — I'll handle reassuring the nation. — After all...
He smiles again. — That program... never existed.
Somewhere in the middle of Nevada. 600 meters underground.
— A Japanese girl? — Yes. — What are her abilities?
The scientist pauses, flips through a thick black folder with no markings. — She is unable to communicate. — Likely due to severe trauma.
He looks up. — But she possesses extraordinary intelligence. — She adapts to any situation. — Clumsy at first glance...
A faint smile. — ...but she has unparalleled mastery of weapons. — Really? — She is the child born from subjects #714 and #475.
Silence. — Lucky those failed experiments amounted to something. — The mother had eyes capable of learning absolutely anything... — But her brain couldn't keep up. — She lost her mind.
He closes the folder. — Died a few months after childbirth, during a mission. — As for the father...
He hesitates. — Limited regeneration ability. — When we found him... there was barely an identifiable pulp left. — And the child? — No regeneration. — But she wields a katana like no one else. — She's a born killer. — What was the mission? — Classified Top Secret. — Come on... I have the clearance. — No. — Even I don't have access.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
A heavy silence. — This child is probably the only one who knows the truth. — But she can't speak. — Very well. — I'll administer the evaluation.
The door opens. The child is there. Eight years old. Sitting on the cold floor. Clutching a stuffed animal tightly. Long silver hair cascading over her shoulders. And her eyes. Azure blue eyes, with an almost unreal innocence. An innocence so pure it becomes... dangerous.
— Very well. — Bring in the death row inmates.
The scientist leaves the room. The opposite door opens. Fifteen prisoners. Convicted serial killers. All between 5'11" and 6'8". They were promised freedom. An experimental program. A simple test.
They hesitate upon seeing the child. Then greed takes over. Knives. Bats. One of them holds a katana. They charge at her.
—
The evaluator murmurs, a mocking smile on her lips: — He... made the worst possible choice.
—
0.01 second. A knife slices through the stuffed animal. The plush is flung backward. 0.02 second. The stuffed animal's head flies off. 0.03 second. A human head rolls on the floor. 0.04 second. The child's gaze changes. A shiver runs through the room. A primal instinct awakens in the men. The one that screams: predator. 0.05 second. The first attacker's knife is buried in the second's skull. 0.06 second. The second's katana flies through the air. 0.07 second. The little girl catches it. 0.08 second. The fifteen convicts are dead.
—
Silence. Only a child remains, on her knees. Crying over her torn stuffed animal. Around her: A sea of blood. Fifteen dismembered bodies. To the human eye... It's as if they had exploded.
The evaluator stands frozen. Stunned. Fascinated. Terrified. He understands then. This isn't a weapon. It's something worse.
The evaluator's phone vibrates. One message. One order. He swallows hard. The girl is returned to the common sector. A vast white room, too clean, too silent. They were there. Some floating inches off the ground, motionless like statues. Others vanishing and reappearing farther away, as if space itself refused to hold them. Some bending metal with their fingers, others whispering to invisible things. But none approached her. None. Except one.
— Hey! So, how'd the evaluation go? ... He circled her, hopping carefree. His feet left small bloodstains on the white floor. — I'm sure you crushed it, haha! ... She sobbed softly. Then held out what remained of her plush. He stopped dead. — Oh... — It's all broken...
She nodded. — Don't worry. — I'll fix it for you.
He placed his hands on the plush. Time rewound. The fibers reformed. The seams resealed. The head returned to its place. As if nothing had ever happened. The little girl stood frozen. Her azure eyes shone. Fascinated. — Ta-da! — Too easy.
He smiled... then brought a hand to his face. Blood poured from his nose. Far too much. He collapsed.
—
She panicked. Tears sprang instantly. She shook his frail body, unable to understand. He opened one eye, half-conscious. — Hey... — Why ruin such a pretty face with tears?
He smiled weakly.
—
And the days passed. Mornings, they were woken at the same hour. Always the same white light. Always the same artificial silence. Evaluations were daily. Some navigated shifting mazes. Others were submerged in zero-gravity chambers. There were tests of endurance, perception, destruction. They sometimes returned wounded. Sometimes not at all. The girl was always observed. She didn't speak. She watched. She often sat apart, clutching her repaired plush. The others watched her without daring to approach. Except him. He told her absurd stories. Tales with no beginning or end. He laughed a lot, despite the fatigue, despite the bleeding. Sometimes he fell. Sometimes he didn't get up right away. She learned to stay close. When she cried, he wiped her tears with his already-red sleeve. When he collapsed, she stayed there, motionless, waiting for him to breathe again. One day, she rested her head on his shoulder. He said nothing. He smiled.
—
The program called them subjects. But in that white room, far from the prying cameras, they lived something dangerously close to childhood. A fragile routine. Calm. And no one told them it would all soon end. By force.
The evaluator entered the room. He was limping. Blood trickled down his temple. The children fell silent immediately. — Children... His voice trembled. — I did... I did my best.
He breathed with difficulty. — Protocol forbade me from getting attached to you. — But for some reason...
His voice broke. — I protected you. — I truly wanted to see this program succeed...
Tears flowed. — This will be my final instruction. — Survive.
—
The word hadn't finished echoing. BANG. The evaluator's head exploded from the bullet's impact. His body slumped heavily to the floor. The doors burst open violently. Men in black military gear flooded the room. Weapons raised. Opaque visors. They aimed at the children. Silence became absolute. The children held their breath.
—
BANG. First shot. A body fell. BANG. Second. Then everything happened too fast. Children dropped one after another. Some screamed. Others didn't even have time to understand. One girl screamed. A scream so powerful the air tore. Soldiers staggered, disoriented. The little boy grabbed the little girl's hand. — Run.
Chaos erupted. The children tried to flee. Some fell. Others fought back. The scene was unreal. Soldiers flew, hurled against walls. Their bodies twisted at impossible angles. There were more losses on their side. But they were too many. The blast door blocked any exit.
—
A child screamed. His body deformed. Bones shattered. Flesh distorted. He became an immense monster. He lost all reason. For yes... they were all imperfect experiments. He pulverized the blast door. Then turned back. And attacked his own comrades. The children fled screaming. If the end of the world resembled anything... it was this. Flames. Monsters. Bloodthirsty soldiers.
—
A child, in his final breath, activated his ability. A mini black hole formed. Everything was sucked in. Bodies. Debris. Screams.
—
The little boy saw all was lost. He stopped time. Two seconds. Just enough to shelter his friend. Then he collapsed. Spitting blood. Far too much blood. The little girl panicked. She cried. He placed his trembling hand on her cheek. — Don't worry... — It's normal.
He smiled weakly. — We're friends...
—
She sobbed. And for the first time... She spoke. — ...friends.
—
Behind her. An army. Perhaps two hundred soldiers. Heavy weapons. Armored vehicles. None of this had ever existed during training. Her eyes gleamed. She saw. She understood. She knew exactly how to use those weapons. As if she'd always known them. Her mother's legacy awakened. She unleashed. Again. And again. Hit. Wounded. Pierced. She continued. Until reaching the exit. Bloodied. Exhausted. She carried her friend. But outside... It was worse. Tanks. Entire troops. An army ready to raze the area. It was the first time she felt outside air. The only scent she caught... Metal. Gunpowder. Death.
Her dying friend smiled. — No... — There's no way.
He coughed blood. — And tears... — They really don't suit you.
—
— FIRE! shouted a soldier. A rain of bullets. Missiles. The exit was engulfed.
—
The little boy whispered: — Run. And he froze time. A vast area. His mouth full of blood. — RUN! One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.
—
Thirty seconds. Time, on a global scale, froze for thirty seconds. It would never have been enough for a human. But she... She ran. So fast the landscape lost all shape. So fast her tears didn't even have time to fall.
—
And somewhere, for the first time... A weapon had been born.