Factory Reset

The blinding sun, a stark contrast to the dim lab, peeked over the horizon as B-64 jolted awake. A cold, metallic grip cinched around his neck, pressing against his vocal cords, a constant reminder of his captivity. His feet dangled uselessly, devoid of feeling, as were his hands, now just bloody samples on a nearby table.

Figures in white lab coats, which B-64 could only assume were scientists, swarmed around him. Needles plunged into his arm, eliciting a guttural screech that shook the straps suspending him. The tiger-like scientist paid no mind, focused solely on extracting his blood. His visor, cracked and broken, offered no communication, no escape.

He had long ago lost feeling in that arm, and the other was quickly following suit. When not suspended for samples, he was submerged in a tube of either gel or a blue liquid. He had learned their language, English, and it was his only entertainment, his only tether to sanity. He heard them speak of him as 'Hack,' a docile Class-09 threat, a mere specimen.

Five new figures entered, cloaked in sleek, military greens. A lion-scientist, Gabriel, his eyes dead, his mane tangled, led them. He spoke of B-64's sapience, his incredible resistance to damage, and the 'Hack-3' biological weapon extracted from his body. B-64 squirmed, a soft whine escaping his damaged vocal cords.

Another scientist, a hyena named Nathan, quietly tended to his wound, muttering about morals. B-64 found himself oddly grateful for Nathan's presence, a small kindness in a world of torment. Gabriel's voice droned on, outlining B-64's combat advantages, his potential as a clone, a military asset with a restrictive collar. B-64's broken visor flickered, forming a small, green pixelated smile as Nathan finished bandaging his arm, a silent trill of affection escaping him.