The sedative should have knocked him unconscious, but Jack Steel's Delta Force conditioning kept his mind sharp even as his body went limp. Through half-closed eyes, he watched the landscape blur past the helicopter's windows—burning Manhattan shrinking behind them, the Hudson River glinting like spilled mercury in the alien-tinted sunlight.
"Subject is maintaining consciousness despite 50mg of Versed," one of the soldiers reported into his comm unit, his voice clinical and detached. "Confirming exceptional stress tolerance. Neural resilience index is off the charts."
Jack's enhanced hearing—a side effect of whatever they'd injected him with earlier—picked up the subtle electronic beeping of monitoring equipment attached to his body. Heart rate, blood pressure, neural activity—they were tracking everything. The military stretcher he was strapped to felt more like an examination table, complete with restraints that could hold a raging gorilla.
"ETA to facility?" the squad leader asked, his scarred face illuminated by the glow of multiple screens showing Jack's vital signs.
"Twelve minutes to Pentagon sublevel access point," the pilot responded. "Weather conditions optimal, no alien air assets detected in our flight corridor."
Pentagon. Of course it would be the Pentagon. Jack had been to the famous five-sided building twice during his Delta Force years—once for a commendation ceremony, once for a classified briefing that turned out to be routine intel sharing. But he'd never heard whispers of anything like this.
Through the sedative haze, fragments of his family's last moments replayed in his mind. Emma's confused expression as the alien blade pierced her chest. Sophia's small hand reaching for her cereal spoon. The wet sounds of consumption after the Spideron finished with them.
Focus, he told himself, using the meditation techniques learned during survival training. Analyze the situation. Gather intelligence. Survive.
The helicopter banked sharply to the left, and Jack caught sight of their destination through the pilot's windscreen. The Pentagon looked different from above—older, more weathered than he remembered. But what struck him as odd were the new additions: massive concrete structures that definitely hadn't been there five years ago, and what looked like anti-aircraft installations surrounding the building like metallic flowers.
"Approaching sublevel entrance," the pilot announced. "Activating cloaking field."
The air around the helicopter shimmered, and suddenly the aircraft became translucent. Jack could see straight through the floor to the ground rushing past below. Military-grade optical camouflage—technology that officially didn't exist.
They descended toward what appeared to be an empty parking lot on the Pentagon's north side. As they drew closer, Jack's enhanced vision—another gift from their mysterious injection—allowed him to see details that should have been invisible. The asphalt rippled like water, revealing itself to be a sophisticated holographic projection hiding a massive circular opening in the earth.
"Welcome to Sub-Level Zero," the squad leader said, noticing Jack's wide-eyed stare. "Also known as the Abyss. This facility has been under construction since 1947, Detective Steel. We've been preparing for this day longer than you've been alive."
The helicopter dropped through the hologram and into a vast underground hangar that stretched impossibly far in every direction. The ceiling alone had to be eight stories high, supported by massive columns that looked like they could hold up a mountain. Aircraft of all sizes filled the space—some recognizable military models, others that looked like they belonged in a science fiction movie.
But it was the people that made Jack's blood run cold.
Hundreds of figures moved through the hangar with purposeful efficiency, but they weren't entirely human anymore. Their movements were too precise, too coordinated. Some had obvious mechanical augmentations—metallic limbs, glowing optical implants, visible neural interfaces. Others looked normal until they turned their heads, revealing the telltale silver flecks in their eyes that Jack had noticed in his rescuer.
Nanomachines. They were all infected with nanomachines.
"Phase Two subjects," the squad leader explained, following Jack's horrified gaze. "Voluntary enhancement program participants. They've maintained most of their humanity while gaining significant capabilities. Think of them as... proof of concept."
The helicopter touched down on a landing pad marked with symbols Jack didn't recognize—geometric patterns that seemed to shift and flow when he looked at them directly. More enhanced personnel surrounded the aircraft before the rotors even finished spinning down.
"Time to go, Detective," the squad leader said, releasing Jack's restraints. "Dr. Chen is waiting for you in the lab. She's very excited to meet our perfect candidate."
Jack tried to stand, but his legs betrayed him. The sedative hadn't worn off completely, and whatever they'd done to enhance his senses had left his balance shot. Two enhanced soldiers caught him before he could fall, their grip gentle but utterly unyielding.
"Easy there," one of them said, his voice carrying a slight electronic distortion. "The sensory enhancement serum takes some getting used to. You're probably hearing our heartbeats right now, aren't you?"
Jack nodded weakly. He could indeed hear their hearts—but they didn't sound right. The rhythm was too steady, too mechanical. Like metronomes made of flesh.
They guided him through the hangar toward a bank of elevators that looked like they belonged on a starship. The enhanced personnel they passed stopped their work to stare at him with undisguised curiosity. Some whispered to each other in voices too low for normal human hearing, but Jack's altered senses picked up every word:
"...perfect compatibility rating..."
"...genetic markers we've been looking for..."
"...finally, a Phase Three candidate..."
Phase Three. That sounded ominous.
The elevator they entered had no buttons, just a smooth panel that one of the soldiers pressed his palm against. Blue light scanned his hand, and Jack felt the car begin to descend. The display showed floor numbers dropping: B-1, B-2, B-5, B-10...
It stopped at B-37.
"Thirty-seven stories underground," the squad leader said conversationally. "At this depth, we're completely insulated from any electromagnetic pulse the aliens might deploy. The entire facility is a Faraday cage wrapped in six feet of reinforced concrete and steel."
The elevator doors opened onto a corridor that looked more like a hospital than a military facility. Everything was pristine white, lit by panels that provided sunlight-spectrum illumination. The air smelled of ozone and antiseptic, with an underlying metallic scent that made Jack's enhanced senses recoil.
They walked past laboratories where figures in clean suits worked on equipment Jack couldn't identify. Through reinforced windows, he caught glimpses of what appeared to be alien technology—or technology based on alien designs. Devices that pulsed with organic-looking patterns. Screens displaying data in languages that hurt to look at.
"The Roswell incident," the squad leader said, noticing Jack's fascination. "That was just the beginning. We've had intermittent contact with various species for decades. Most of them were trying to warn us about the Xynos, but we couldn't understand the threat until it was too late."
They stopped before a massive door marked with biohazard symbols and warnings in multiple languages. The squad leader placed his hand on another scanner, then leaned forward for a retinal scan. The door split open like flower petals, revealing a laboratory that belonged in a fever dream.
Dr. Sarah Chen stood in the center of the room, her small frame dwarfed by the massive equipment surrounding her. She looked younger than Jack had expected—maybe early thirties—with the kind of intense focus that came from being brilliant and slightly obsessed. Her lab coat was pristine except for the nanomachine monitoring devices embedded in the fabric, their tiny screens displaying streams of incomprehensible data.
"Detective Steel," she said, turning from a holographic display showing a three-dimensional model of human DNA. "I've been studying your genetic profile for the last hour. You are... remarkable."
Jack found his voice despite the lingering effects of the sedative. "What makes me so special?"
Dr. Chen smiled, but there was something predatory about it. "You possess a rare combination of genetic markers that we've been searching for since the program began. Perfect cellular regeneration capability, enhanced neural plasticity, and most importantly—natural nanomachine compatibility without rejection syndrome."
She gestured to the holographic display, which shifted to show Jack's DNA structure rotating slowly in the air. Certain sequences were highlighted in gold, pulsing with their own inner light.
"Less than 0.001% of the human population has these markers, Detective. And among those few, even fewer have the psychological profile necessary to survive what we're about to do to you."
"Which is what, exactly?"
Dr. Chen's smile widened. "We're going to give you one trillion nanomachines, Jack. May I call you Jack? One trillion microscopic allies that will rewrite your biology from the cellular level up. They'll make you faster, stronger, more intelligent. They'll allow you to absorb and integrate alien technology. Most importantly, they'll make you nearly immortal."
She moved to another display, this one showing a containment unit that hummed with barely contained energy. Inside, Jack could see what looked like liquid mercury, but it moved with purpose, forming patterns and shapes that suggested intelligence.
"The nanomachines are eager to meet you," Dr. Chen continued. "They've been evolving in isolation for twenty years, learning, growing, preparing for the right host. And now we've found you."
Jack stared at the writhing mass of nanomachines, remembering the silver specks he'd seen moving beneath the Spideron's skin. "What's the catch?"
Dr. Chen's expression grew serious. "The integration process has a 97% fatality rate. Of the 3% who survive, approximately half lose their sanity within the first week. The nanomachines... they change how you think, how you feel. They optimize you for efficiency, which sometimes means eliminating what they consider unnecessary human emotions."
"Like what?"
"Empathy. Compassion. Love." She paused, studying his face. "The ability to feel guilt or remorse. For some candidates, these changes are... liberating. They become perfect soldiers, free from the weaknesses that held them back as humans."
Jack thought of Emma and Sophia, their faces already becoming harder to remember clearly. The rage he felt was pure, undiluted by doubt or mercy. Maybe losing his capacity for guilt wouldn't be such a bad thing.
"There's something else," Dr. Chen added, her voice dropping to a whisper. "The nanomachines don't just enhance you—they evolve you. Every alien you kill, every piece of foreign technology you encounter, they absorb and integrate. You could become something beyond human classification. Something that makes the Xynos look like insects by comparison."
The laboratory fell silent except for the humming of the containment unit and the soft beeping of monitoring equipment. Jack could hear the heartbeats of everyone in the room—all of them mechanical, artificial, enhanced.
"What happened to your other subjects?" Jack asked. "The failures?"
Dr. Chen gestured toward another section of the lab, where Jack could see rows of containment pods filled with murky fluid. "We keep them for study. The nanomachines continue to evolve even after host death. We've learned quite a lot from their... transformations."
One of the pods was close enough for Jack to see its contents clearly. What had once been human floated in the preservative fluid, but it was something else now—a twisted amalgamation of flesh and machine that still moved occasionally, as if dreaming of electric sheep.
"The choice is yours, Detective Steel," Dr. Chen said, her voice taking on a hypnotic quality. "You can remain human and eventually die when the Xynos strip this planet bare. Or you can evolve, become something powerful enough to make them pay for what they did to your family."
Jack closed his eyes and saw Emma's face one last time before the nanomachines erased the memory forever. When he opened them again, his decision was made.
"When do we start?"
Dr. Chen's smile was radiant and terrible. "Right now."