EASRS: Zero Z
Chapter 3
Three weeks later…
David's blurred vision slowly came into focus.
His body felt limp—heavy, unresponsive—like that of a man hovering on the edge of death. Cold weakness seeped through his veins as consciousness returned piece by piece. Above him stretched a ceiling of sterile white, painfully bright. Around him stood machines he could neither name nor understand, their quiet beeping monitoring everything from his heartbeat to the artificial rhythm forced upon his lungs.
When he tried to move, a sharp metallic pull snapped him back.
His right arm was shackled.
A massive restraint—each segment of the cold steel chain as thick as a human wrist—wrapped tightly around his arm, locking him not only to the surface beneath him, but to the structure itself.
A bed…?
No.
Not a bed.
It was a single solid block of concrete, crudely repurposed—covered with a thin mattress and a pillow, as if someone had tried, half-heartedly, to pretend this was a hospital room rather than a holding cell.
Farther ahead stood two guards from GAM.
They were positioned in front of a thick steel door, unmoving, like statues carved for war. Their faces were unreadable, eyes hidden beneath shadows. Both were tall, broad-shouldered, their physiques disciplined and symmetrical beneath black tactical uniforms. Blue berets rested firmly on their heads.
Each of them held an MP7, fingers close to the trigger.
David's breath hitched.
Suddenly, rage surged through the weakness.
He jerked his head toward them and snarled, his hoarse voice thick with pain and unmistakably American.
David
> "You motherfuckers—let me go!
You bastards!
Fascist pieces of shit!"
His voice echoed harshly against the white walls.
The guards did not react.
They didn't flinch, didn't answer, didn't even acknowledge him as a human being.
One of them merely turned his head slightly toward the other. A brief glance was exchanged—silent, professional. Then one guard reached into his pocket and pulled out a black radio, while the other subtly raised his weapon, posture shifting into full alert.
The soldier holding the radio spoke calmly, efficiently, every word clipped and precise—pure military protocol.
GAM Guard 1
> "Reporting.
The subject has regained consciousness.
Exhibiting signs of hostility and non-cooperation."
From the other end of the radio, a woman's voice responded.
It was gentle—soft, even—but carried an unsettling clarity. There was something captivating about it, something composed and deliberate, as if every syllable had been carefully measured before being released.
Dr. Valeria spoke slowly.
Dr. Valeria
> "Understood.
Thank you.
I'll take it from here."
---
The soldier holding the radio switched it off and slid it back into the pouch on his belt. He gave a short nod to his partner, then returned to his position, standing guard as if nothing had happened—utterly indifferent to the stream of curses and insults still spilling from David's mouth.
David kept shouting.
Threats.
Obscenities.
Rage born from fear and helplessness.
None of it mattered.
A few minutes later—
His voice finally died in his throat.
The thick steel door began to slide open with a low mechanical groan.
From behind it stepped a young woman.
Her long, wavy hair was white at first glance, but beneath the surface shimmered faint strands of pale blue, like light refracted through ice. It gave her an appearance that was both mysterious and unnervingly beautiful. Her eyes—soft gray-blue—held a calm elegance that felt completely out of place in a room like this.
Her skin was milk-white, framed by a black turtleneck beneath a pristine white lab coat. Black slacks followed the clean lines of her legs, tucked neatly into brown boots. In her hands, she carried a thin document clipboard.
She wasn't tall—around 165 centimeters, barely reaching the chests of the guards—but the moment she stepped inside, both soldiers straightened instantly, their posture snapping into perfect discipline.
Despite looking no older than twenty-one or twenty-two, her presence alone demanded obedience.
She walked forward and calmly sat down beside the concrete bed, close to David's head.
And then—
David's instincts betrayed him.
Before his mind could catch up, his hand shot out.
His rough, oversized fingers grabbed her by the head, yanking her closer as he roared straight into her face—wild, unrestrained, like a feral white ape losing its grip on sanity.
David
> "You fucking bitch—
You white-haired doctor whore!
Let me go!"
The guards tensed.
But Valeria did not flinch.
She listened to every word.
She even smiled.
A gentle, almost charitable smile remained on her lips as she calmly continued writing something on her clipboard, as if David's screaming were nothing more than background noise.
Only after he finished did she finally move.
With her small hand, she firmly—but effortlessly—pushed his large, calloused hand away from her head.
Then she spoke.
Her voice was composed, precise—serious, yet carrying a faint trace of irony, as if she were mildly amused by his childish outburst.
Valeria
> "I would appreciate it if you paid closer attention to your language…
and your behavior."
The smile never left her face.
Yet her fingers tightened around the pen.
Not visibly violent—but tense, controlled. As though she were holding herself back from striking him.
If not for professional restraints, she would have punched David long ago.
And David could feel it.
That this woman—
Was not afraid of him at all.
---
The two soldiers remained silent, standing watch over everything that was unfolding before them.
Yet their eyes flicked briefly toward one another.
The second soldier leaned in just slightly, lowering his voice to the faintest whisper—careful, almost desperate, as if afraid even the walls themselves might overhear. Fear was clearly etched beneath his calm exterior, though years of iron discipline prevented it from ever reaching his face.
GAM Soldier 2
> Oh God… I really hope Doctor Scrop doesn't see this scene.
If he does… I don't think that guy will survive much longer.
The other soldier immediately raised a hand, signaling him to be quiet.
They both understood the nature of their duty.
In this place, one did not speak lightly.
One did not comment.
One did not speculate.
Anything seen was to be buried deep inside the chest—never voiced, never acknowledged.
On the concrete bed, David's eyes suddenly widened.
A violent headache tore through his skull, sharp enough to make his vision blur.
That voice—the same one—returned.
It was not merely a sound.
It felt like something alive, coiled inside his mind, slowly tightening its grip, manipulating his body like a puppet.
Inside his head, David screamed.
Get out. I'll never apologize to some woman nearly twenty years younger than me.
But his mouth betrayed him.
The words that came out were not his.
David / ???
> I apologize, Doctor…
My behavior was inappropriate and failed to meet acceptable standards.
For a brief moment, Valeria's eyes flickered.
Surprise—just a trace of it.
Then suspicion.
Still, she responded calmly, adjusting her reaction to this sudden and unnatural change, her pen never stopping as it scratched across the surface of the clipboard, documenting every detail, every shift in behavior.
Dr. Valeria
> Thank you for your cooperation, sir.
However, I must ask that you remain mindful of your conduct and emotional responses while inside this facility.
Please refrain from using vulgar, aggressive, or inappropriate language. This is a professional workplace.
Her smile remained gentle.
But behind it, something calculating quietly observed him—
as if she were no longer speaking to the man on the bed alone.
---
[To be continued]