Test Record #1104

"Morning, sleepyhead. You getting up today?"

The man gently places his hand on his wife's cheek as he speaks; her skin is cool to the touch. Her temperature must drop while she sleeps, he thinks. The woman does not so much as stir. The only sound in the room is her deep, steady breathing. It is the only way he knows she still lives. She has been asleep for nearly two weeks.

Ten days ago, they fought Flowers in the city ruins. It was a relentless battle, and many did not see it through to come out intact on the other side. His wife's head was injured during the skirmish, and though the wound is healing nicely, she remains unconscious. The doctor said it was an after-effect of receiving a strong blow to the brain. He also warned the man she might never regain herself. He knows he should be happy she still lives. Nonetheless, he finds himself praying:

"Please wake up, honey. Please."

The man had already lost his son to the Flowers. And now they threatened to steal his wife as well.

His body shivers in fear at the prospect, the anxiety boring a hole in his heart. The Flowers were taking everything from him. Everything. Hate swirls inside him as he unconsciously clenches his hands into fists. If only he could eradicate the Flowers...
If only he had the strength to kill them...

All right, enough of that. She's going to wake up. The man draws himself up straight, patching the hole in his heart through sheer force of will. Soon, a voice comes over the PA announcing mealtime. Even this dreary announcement, played at the same time every day, serves to take his mind from his troubles. For the first time ever, he finds the managed routines and strict rules of his lifestyle are granting him a sense of security and peace.

"I'm off to eat, honey," he whispers.
"Be back soon."

The man makes his way to the feeding hall. It is a simple space fitted with sterile terminals where people receive meals after scanning their IDs, as well as rows of small tables where they can eat. Right now, it is filled with prisoners who live in the man's block. They line up in neat rows, receive the same food, plop down in assigned seats, and eat silently. The prisoners are treated like animals; it is an unnerving sight. But tools for war must be properly managed. The man looks at the empty seat beside him where his wife would typically sit. The food seems even more bland than usual this day.

Suddenly, the voice of their commander rings out.
"Eyes on, people!" Tension ripples through the prisoners; an appearance from the commander typically foreshadows a problem.

"We are currently recruiting testers for new equipment. Anyone who wishes to take part can apply at the terminal in their room. That is all."

The message delivered, he spins on a heel and leaves. The prisoners breathe a sigh of relief. The R&D Department was constantly researching weapons and other gear that might be of use against the Flowers. They managed every aspect of the prisoners' equipment, right down to what they wore in their daily lives. Their clothes heightened the wearer's resistances and strength, but also allowed the commander control of their bodies and minds. Despite their ill feelings toward their garb, they all agreed the clothes had saved their lives on multiple occasions. For the man, however, the fact he is no better than a slave is something he has made peace with — for he will shoulder any burden and bear any pain to have his revenge. He will do whatever is necessary.

New equipment, eh? Interesting...

With more powerful weapons and equipment, they could inflict more damage on the Flowers and return from battle with fewer casualties. And maybe even end the war altogether. The man knows many people will apply to test the new equipment, because they all share this same goal. Plus, better equipment means a better chance of survival. The man thinks it over. Though he wishes to stay at his wife's side, he knows he won't actually be able to do anything for her. So when he returns to his room, he turns on his terminal and applies to test the new equipment.

Several days later, the man finds himself walking toward the R&D training room. When he arrives, five prisoners are already there. These are the applicants who were chosen. There does not seem to be a particular type: he sees all kinds, from muscle-bound men to slender, wiry women. Once they are gathered, the commander begins to speak:
"Put your gear on and prepare to spar."

The commander brings out six sets of bizarre clothing. They are called enhancement suits, and each one upgrades its wearer in different ways.

The man's suit is called a "power model."
It is designed to heighten the wearer's physical strength. The outfit is completely black, and has a solemn, imposing air. It is made from a thick, heavy material that seems designed to function as a flexible suit of armor. He puts it on and closes the seals, noting with grim satisfaction how it encloses his entire body. The remaining five suits for the other prisoners consist of three combat-oriented models — speed, defense, and magic — and two support models: scout and medic. Today, they will be testing the combat suits.

His suit ready, the man walks to the middle of the room. Opposite him is a man in a speed suit. He can't be more than twenty years old — little more than a kid. His suit is bright yellow, and appears only lightly armored. Speed, eh? I wonder how fast we're talkin' here. The two combatants face each other, muscles tense. After a few moments, a buzzer sounds.
"I'm coming for you, old man!" screams the kid.

The moment the words leave his mouth, he closes the distance between them in a blur. Before the man even knows what is happening, the kid punches him square in the face. He stumbles across the room before coming to a stop against the back wall.

"Oh, it ain't naptime yet, pops!"
The kid races across the room before the man can even regain his feet. He begins dancing around him, always in his blind spot, pummeling him with a series of rapid blows and kicks. But the man feels no pain. The impact is intense, but lacks the power to penetrate his armor. The kid quickly seems to grasp this as well, and redoubles his attacks in an effort to pummel his foe into some kind of submission. His arms move too fast to be seen. His legs are streaks of yellow light.

"Give up already, you dog!" the kid taunts. With each strike the kid makes, he tosses in a barb of the tongue. The man can't tell if his opponent is trying to goad him into sloppiness or is just always like this. Regardless, the kid clearly has the mindset of a warrior. The man places his back against the wall and raises his guard. Though each strike by itself does little damage, he knows the kid's furious onslaught will eventually wear him down. The man looks for chances to strike back, but the kid's speed shows no sign of slowing. Perhaps the speed suit also raises his stamina. Regardless, the power model is heavy, and unsuited to prolonged fights. Time for a new plan...

"Was that you hitting me just now, kid? I thought a fly landed on me."
"The hell did you say!?"

Taking the bait, the young man launches a roundhouse kick. His foot makes contact with the man's side, sending a shockwave through his entire body.... But it also leaves an opening. Before the kid can recover, the man rears back and drives a fist into his gut. The young man stops moving. He stands in place, wobbling back and forth like a dying top, then slumps to the ground.

"N-nice shot, buddy..." says the kid as he fades into unconsciousness.
"But next time, I...won't lose..."
"Heh. You fought well, kid."

The man chuckles at his opponent's unceasing confidence, even when staring down defeat.
His clouded heart feels a bit lighter.

The prisoners — including the kid — spend the next few days in their suits, pushing them to their very limits. Once this is done, they are ready to test them for true.

Urban Residential District: Block One 

The prisoners stand in a line amidst abandoned buildings. Each one is clad in a different suit. Their mission is to eliminate all Flowers in the area. Though technically a capability test of the suits, it is still a genuine battle. If the test goes well, the enhancement suits would be officially rolled out as new equipment, and hopefully increase the survival rates of all prisoners. The six are determined to make the mission a success. The scout activates her sensors and scans the area. Ten Flowers are detected in Block Three. Flowers typically live in easily spotted clusters. However, there are also stealth types that do not show up on scans. They will have to keep their guards up at all times. The six slowly and carefully pick their way through the ruins.

Urban Residential District: Block Three 
The party receives visual confirmation of ten Flowers straight ahead. They are relieved to hear the scout's information was accurate, and proceed to the next phase of the plan. The magic unit initiates the attack. She fires a heat ray from a massive gun, transforming a nearby Flower to ash. This model of suit is vulnerable while firing, but a surprise attack solves that problem.

"Go, kid!" yells the man.
"Do your thing!"

The kid leaps into a cluster of Flowers and begins raining blows down upon them. The man follows close behind, swinging a massive greatsword that mows down everything in its path.

The battle is over in an instant. The power of the suits is overwhelming. They will turn the tide of the war. But this overwhelming victory — and the hope it brings — makes them sloppy, and they drop their guard.

"Look out!" cries the scout.
"Something's co — "

A Flower emerges from the ground under the scout's feet. She is thrown to the side, where she lands with her neck at an impossible angle. Death is instantaneous.
"Everyone, behind me!" yells the defense unit.

He raises a shield as the others form up in his wake. More Flowers rip through the ground beneath them. The magic unit is torn in two, causing chunks of flesh and bone to rain down around them. Don't lose heart now, thinks the man as he grips his sword. Over a dozen Flowers now loom around them — and a moment later, they unleash hell. The defense unit adjusts his position to take the brunt of the attack, while the medic does her best to keep him upright. Meanwhile, the speed and power units make their way through the chaos, cutting down one Flower before moving on to the next. It is a solid battle plan — at least at first. But while the medic can heal wounds, she is powerless against the pain that accompanies a broken bone or a dislocated joint. Slowly but surely, pain begins to overwhelm the defense unit. Finally, it becomes too much to bear. He turns to flee the battlefield, and is immediately set upon and torn apart by a pair of Flowers. Six of the creatures now remain, and the man in his power suit steps into place at the fore. Each time a Flower strikes at him, he responds with a vicious attack of his own.

I won't die here. Not now. Not like this.
I won't leave my wife all alone!

This thought is enough to carry him through the fight. The man hears a terrible sound — a cry of fear and pain and utter, complete rage. He does not even realize he is the one making it.

Time passes. Time stands still. Eventually the man emerges from his bloodlust and sees the kid resting on his knees.

"W-we did it..." whispers the kid.
"We actually did it."

Only then does the man notice the shredded remains of Flowers all around them. There might still be more lurking underground. If so, he does not have the energy to fight. Suddenly, he hears a familiar announcement:

"Enhancement suit battle test complete."
"Commencing phase three of the experiment."

As though triggered by the voice, pain courses through his head. Suddenly, a voice rings out, blocking all other thought.

PROTECT YOUR FAMILY.
PROTECT YOUR FAMILY.
PROTECT YOUR FAMILY.
KILL THE ENEMY.

At the last line, the man loses consciousness.

When the man's eyes next flutter open, he finds himself lying on the floor. He struggles to his feet as the fog begins to lift from his mind... And he beholds a grisly sight. The floor is a lake of blood. In the center, hunks of flesh and a broken staff. That staff... It's the medic's. The man examines the chunks and finally finds what remains of the medic's face. Her suit has been forcefully pried open and her skin peeled from her very bones. There's not even enough left for a proper burial. 

The man feels nausea building inside him and turns away. But this only reveals a new horror: The kid — or what remains of him. He has been impaled on a massive greatsword.

His arms have been plucked from the body and discarded; his face is little more than a ruined crater. It appears the corpse was pummeled into submission long past the point where the man who existed inside was dead.

No... No, this can't be...

A horrible feeling crawls up his spine. Cold sweat runs down his face.

That sword... It's mine.

"You killed him," says a familiar voice.
The man whirls around to find the commander.

"I...killed him?"

His mind rejects this fact, as does his heart. But he cannot deny his bloody hands. Or his black suit — which is now a vivid red.

I did this... Oh god, I did this!

"Calm yourself. You are not to blame here."
The commander proceeds to tell him everything.

It had all been an experiment. Command had set up the Flowers' surprise attack — 
and once it was over, they deprived the prisoners of consciousness and had them fight to the death. The commander had planned everything. After revealing this, he begins to regale the man with tales of all the data they gained from the experiment, his glee barely contained. But the man cannot hear him. His thoughts are a whirling vortex of rage.

"It appears to be somewhat dependent on the user's mental state and personality," continues the commander.
"But overall, the power suit was shown to provide the best balance of offense and defense."
"We will begin mass-manufacturing it at once."

The man's rage compresses, finding a target in the commander.
"So my friends died for a goddamn test?" he growls.
"No progress is without sacrifice," says the commander.

His tone is flat, as if the subject bores him. Enraged, the man rears back and launches a fist directly at the commander's face. But his arm stops before it connects, his body refusing to allow it.

For all his power, he is still a prisoner.

"DAMN YOU TO HELL!" he wails.

The commander stares at the man impassively.
"I could dispose of you here and now, you know? It actually might be the smart thing to do, considering all that you've learned."

An image of the man's wife leaps into his mind. I can't die yet. The man furrows his brow and slowly lowers his fist.

"Good. What happened here today will be our little secret."
"We expect great things from your tenacity, prisoner."
"No sacrifice is too great if it means victory over the Flowers."

This said, the commander collects some bits of suits and departs. Silence fills the void.

I can't die yet. I can't die yet. I can't die yet.

The man repeats these four words over and over. I have to live for her. And the more of us who wear these suits, the more of us who will survive. He's right. This is a good thing. The man had killed them all — Flower and friend alike. Yet he felt a sense of might at his power. A sense of guilt for his actions. And a sense of excitement at the possibilities. All of these things eat away at him. I am strong enough to protect. I am strong enough to kill. The darkness inside him swells and writhes and expands until finally it consumes what remains of his heart.