The Infinity Project

Waking up in a hospital, being spoon-fed lies be her mysterious captors, being stuck with a group of teenagers, with no memories of her life before, but flickering remnants of a car crash. Things aren't looking good for Kira. On top of that she has to deal with sudden powers, and a mysterious dark force that has taken hold of her.
With betrayal looming at every corner, can Kira save herself and her friends, or die trying?


7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7


There's really nothing to it, the testing. A blood sample. An injection. A reflects assessment. Just basic stuff, and we all pass with exceptional results. We go one at a time, and I speak with the others in my mind the whole time.

But there's something wrong. It's too easy. Nothing here is ever easy. The others wait outside while I get it done, flinching at the needles. You'd think that by now I'd be used to it, but I'm not. I wait to see what's next. Dr. Saleron stares me in the eye, and I see something almost human in her grey eyes. Human emotion, gleaming in their usual stillness. 

“Call it up for me.” She whispers, and I instinctively know what she's talking about. The Blackness. 

I grab ahold of it, where it hovers like a dark mist at the edges of my mind, and drag it up, asking for it to take over. It doesn't need to be asked twice, and it slips up, my normal self fading away. 

But completely. Some small part of me stays spectator, enough so I can witness what happens. 

I study Dr. Saleron, in my primal way. Assessing wether she's friend or foe. Friend, the Blackness decides. Foe, I know with absolute certainty. 

She hands me something, a piece of wood. I break it without even thinking. Next is a wooden figure, resembling no one in particular. Then one resembling Tiffany. David. Mia. Wind. I destroy them all, and Dr. Saleron smiles with glee. 

Then it's over, and I'm back as me, my hands covered with splinters and wood-dust. 

“You've passed. You're dismissed.” Dr. Saleron states, and I get up and exit, mentally communicating to the others, who've yet to go, what it's like. All except for the last part, where she assessed me with the Blackness. 

What was that all about? She wanted to see me destroy. My willingness to break.

I wait, just outside the room’s metal door, as the others take their turns. They all pass, and we exchange congratulations and smiles. But it seems all too superficial. 

Our moods are all somber, frightened. Yet we force a smile and a happy laugh for the sake of each other, because if one of us collapses we'll all come tumbling down. 

Dr. Saleron congratulates us, and we all take off, Dr. Saleron in he lead. I can't help but feel fear stir inside me every time we pass a door, or an empty hallway. 

Because who know what they could be hiding. Who knows what secrets are yet to be revealed. I'm gong to dig a little deeper, uncover a couple more frightening truths in this web of pleasant lies, and then I'm getting out of here. 

And if I go down, I'm taking this place down with me. I can't let this twisted project continue, no matter what the cost. To the outside world I'm considered dead anyways, what would happen if I suddenly reappeared? 

An idea slowly forms, a minor detour in my masterplan, that will allow me to glean more information. It's risky, if I'm found out the repercussions would be grave, but I feel with burning certainty that if I pull it off, it will phenomenally aid our escape. 

I don't tell the others what I'm going to do, but they will know soon enough. If anything goes wrong, I don't want them in harms way. I'll wait until after the deed is completed to fill them in with all the details. 

I will need to gather up some supplies first, but by tomorrow night I should be ready. 

What I'm going to do, is find files on this whole experiment. On this building and it's layout. I keep a weary eye out for anything that looks like an office, a place to keep files. 

Than I see it. A door, painted white with a metal plaque reading Dr. Saleron/personal office. Perfect. Dr. Saleron's office would hold the most important files, as Dr. Saleron is clearly the one in charge here. 

I go about the rest of my day like normal, trying to think of supplies I'd need to get in there. Dr. Saleron's keycard. It's not until we go to training that I realize that I won't need anything to break in, I can just flash over there. 

So I go about my day like normal, hiding the excitement that bubbles inside me. This is it. The first in a series of stands that will either put this place on a path to destruction or me in that path. 

That night, when Dr. Saleron ties me down, I close my eyes and pretend to sleep. She leaves me be and I wait in silence, counting in my head. I wait and wait, until I can't take it anymore. I have no sense of time, so minutes or hours could have passed. 

I focus, drawing up the energy. I force myself to focus, but my mind keeps wandering to all the what-ifs that it can possibly think up. I shove my worries away and flash out of the bindings keeping me secured to the bed. 

Then again, past the door. I take a couple steps, then flash away down the hallway. Again, and again. I stop, saving up my energy, though I'm not even beginning to feel tired. 

It takes a few tries, but I manage to track down the office once again, and then with very little effort my world begins to spin and contort, shrinking around me and flashing by, until suddenly I'm somewhere else. Inside the office. 

It's pitch black, and I fumble around for a light switch. I find one with only causing minimal damage, and wince as harsh light suddenly fills he tiny space. 

The walls are a bland cream. The floor is greyish brown carpet. A wooden desk lies in the far right corner, smothered by papers. A couple of file cabinets sit next to the desk, nondescript, painted grey. The rest of the room is none remarkable, just empty space and a lamp that's unplugged. 

I go straight to the file cabinets and wrench them open. I expected them to be locked, but hen again why would they need to be? No one was suspecting this. 

I rummage through the files until I find one that makes my heart stop. An ordinary brown folder, with my name marked on it in black pen, and my picture attached with a paper clip. I want to take it, read it, but there's no time. So I slip it back until I find one that I know with gut certainty is the right one. 

The same symbol as is tattooed on my wrist is marked on the file, along with the label, Infinity Project.

It scares me, the prospect of what I might find, but I read it anyway. I scamper backwards and press against the wall, opening the file with shaking hands. 

I rifle through the pages, before actually starting to read. At first I'm confused, but then I realize I'm looking at a printed conversation between two parties. 


Secure_1: Commence project. 

E_Saleron: awaiting subjects. 

Secure_1: the test subjects will be arriving soon. Notify me when they arrive, and when you begin the experiment. 

E_Saleron: they have arrived. Commencing experimentation. 

E_Saleron: the AI7 is not causing any reaction. Permission to switch to PE12. 

Secure_1: permission granted. Proceed with caution. 


It goes on like that for a while and I skim over it, not finding anything particularly interesting. Nothing noteworthy. I flip to a new page, this one a summary of what the project is for. 

With a little hesitation, I start reading. It can't be that bad, right? It can't be anything Dr. Saleron has t mentioned or hinted at before. But what I read shakes my very world to its core. 


The Infinity Project was founded by medical researcher Dr. Alexia Cuippicae ten years ago. Unfortunately, Dr. Cuippicae came to an unfortunate passing that even her breakthrough formula—one that allowed cells, living or dead, to repair themselves—couldn't fix. 

Nonetheless her work lives on, as a new group of scientists picked up where she left off. Their goal was to find a way to recreate the formula, after Dr. Cuippicae died with the knowledge, having not informed anyone else of the creation process. 

They succeeded in their work, creating a formula that not only could save lives but restore them. They planned to use this formula to keep soldiers alive on the battlefield for longer, but once the succeeded with the formula they continued to dig.

They discovered files on a project Dr. Cuippicae had been planning to start, but had unfortunately passed before she had the chance. They could barely imagine what the world would be like if she had the time to succeed.

It detailed a serum that worked with subjects genetic predispositions and created new abilities in said subjects. The new researchers were overjoyed and got to work immediately, creating two formulas, AI7 and PE12. 

AI7 was a milder one, that had a 27% lethality chance. PE12 was stronger and would produce better results, but had an approximate 84% lethality chance, as it was more concentrated and unpredictable. 


Wait a second. That means it was almost certain we would've died, as in the transmissions Dr. Saleron asked to switch to ‘PE12.’ 

How come we didn't? I quiet my roiling mind and keep reading. More shocking discoveries. 


To minimize casualties, a member of the team came up with the idea of fusing the healing serum with the PE12. They went ahead with that, combining the two serums and fusing them together. 

After testing, it was revealed the lethality chance was now 4.7%, significantly lower. 


That's better. That explains how we're all still alive. I have to say I like those odds a lot more.


There was some unexpected consequences to the pairing, during early tests it revealed that not only had it spiked a change in the test subjects’ brain patterns, but in their genetic healing potential, in simpler terms their natural abilities to heal, repair tissue. 


So we all have super healing? Now I can see what David was so excited about. I continue reading but find nothing else of significance, and eventually place the file back and search some more, for a map of the complex or something. 

I find it, studying it. There, there's the exit. 

A footstep echoes in the think silence, slicing through it like a sword. A footstep. Then another. And another. Someone's coming. My heart starts pounding a thousand miles a minute as I suddenly hear a key in the lock. Someone's coming here. I don't have time to do anything with the map, but I jam the rest of the files back. 

Adrenaline roaring in my veins a call up all my energy and flash away, but not before I see Dr. Saleron's face. The only question is if she saw me. 

It takes me two jumps to get back to my room, and I'm suddenly faced with a new problem. Dr. Saleron would certainly notice if I was out of my binds when she came in the morning. 

With great difficulty I manage to retie my feet, then struggle with my wrists. I'm forced to come to a halt and fake slumber as I hear the door click open, sense someone poking their head in. 

The door clicks shut once again, and I hear Dr. Saleron shoguns to the guards. Her voice is tight with anger, and I realize I forgot to close the file cabinet, the map still put. At least I had managed to place the other files back where they belong. 

“Someone was in my office. Check all the bedrooms. If anyone's out come straight to me and report them.” She commands. 

I hear some low murmurs, more than likely the guards grumbling yes ma'am, then my door slides open once more as a guard pokes their fat head in. 

I keep as still as I can, waiting for the click of the door sliding close, of the locks moving back into place. 

But it never comes, because the second I close my eyes a wave of exhaustion rolls over me, washing me out into the sea of sleep. No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to break free is slumber’s grasp. It had me in a chokehold, and soon I'm begging for air. 

It doesn't come until Dr. Saleron wrenches me from the bed, and I slump to the floor, limbs still asleep while my mind has been jarred awake. 

I open my mouth to scream for her to leave me alone, but I think better of it. It's clear that I'm already on her bad side, I don't want to make it worse.

So instead I push myself to my feet and follow her out the door. My legs ache as I force myself to walk, but the more I move the more it burns off and I begin to feel some semblance of energy. Maybe it's just leftover adrenaline.

She leads me to the cafeteria, where I see everyone else has been rounded up as well. The tension is palpable, you can almost see it shimmer in the air.

As I enter and Dr. Saleron begins speaking, the tension turns to anger and fear, so strong that I swear can smell it. Or maybe that's just the odour of breakfast being prepared. 

“Someone was in my office last night, and as I've already questioned all the guards, who swear it wasn't them, that means it has to be either one of you or another doctor.” She pauses for dramatic effect, and we all hold our breaths. 

“Sorry I'm late!” Dr. Alexia gasps as she runs up, trying her best to look stern and serious. 

“I then questioned the doctors. They all denied and have plausible excuses. That leaves you.” She continues without so much as acknowledging the much younger Dr. Alexia. 

“I didn't do it! I swear!” David blurts, blushing. “I, uh… don't do well under pressure.” 

“No kidding!” I mutter, earning a chuckle from Wind.

“Lets keep on topic now. Which one of you did it. Just come clean, there'll be no serious repercussions.” She coos, but her eye glimmer with malice that tells me there will be serious punishment. 

“I was asleep all night.” Wind states blandly. His green eyes are bored, but beneath the surface I see fear. 

Did any of you do it? He asks mentally, but no one answers him. We are forced into silence by what Dr. Saleron does next. 

“If no one comes clean, I'll choose one at random to punish, and send a message to the rest of you little rats.” She drawls, leaning forward and grabbing Mia by the wrist. “Did you do it?” She hisses, and Mia lets out a little squeak of pain as her nails dig in, drawing blood. “You'll have to do.” She murmurs, drawing her away from the group. 

I can't take it. I can't let another person get hurt on my behalf. I refuse to, in fact. I stomach up the courage and form a reasonable alibi, the words ready on my tongue. 

“It was me.” 



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