Clang...
The sickening sound of metal scraping against metal echoed through the pitch-dark room.
Two burly men in guard uniforms shoved open a heavy iron door and pushed a rusted hospital gurney inside. On it lay a young man—barely eighteen—with Asian features, his hands and feet bound tightly with thick leather straps. He could barely move, only managing to tilt his head enough to glance around.
The room was narrow, dimly lit, and suffocating. In the center stood an operating table, stained and rusty. The overhead surgical lamp was coated in grime, casting a flickering, ominous light over the scene. The air reeked of dried blood and mold—rot that had seeped into the very walls of the building.
Next to the table stood a man in a white lab coat. The coat was tattered and stained, its cleanliness long forgotten. He was hunched over a tray of medical instruments, fiddling with them in silence.
Robert's heart sank the moment he saw him.
"Not this bastard again…"
He didn't bother resisting as the two guards easily hauled his restrained body off the gurney and dropped him onto the operating table like a carcass ready for dissection.
"Welcome back, little mouse," the man in the lab coat said, turning around. His voice was cold, eyes devoid of any emotion. "Same question as always: Why did you appear in our facility?"
He leaned in closer, studying Robert's face. "None of the guards saw you. You weren't caught on any of the surveillance footage. How did you get in?"
Robert said nothing. He couldn't. What was he supposed to say?
Oh yeah, I time-traveled here while playing a mobile game at home.
Yeah, right.
Of course, he couldn't tell them that. Especially not this lunatic. Robert recognized the man in front of him—he went by Ajax here, but his real name was Francis. The same sadistic villain from the Deadpool movie. Which meant...
He wasn't in his world anymore.
He was inside that Marvel universe.
Specifically, inside the same illegal facility that tortured Wade Wilson under the guise of curing cancer. A place that took in desperate patients and turned them into lab rats. And Robert was now one of them.
…
It had been just over two months since Robert had mysteriously arrived in this world.
Unlike some convoluted methods of time travel, his had been absurdly simple. One second he was lounging at home, grinding through a game on his phone—and the next, he was here. Cold, terrified, and unconscious after being caught by roaming guards.
When he came to, he was strapped to this same table, a stranger in a lab coat injecting something into his veins. Since then, life had been an unrelenting nightmare.
Beatings with metal rods. Waterboarding. Suffocation. Burns. Submersion in ice water.
Robert had endured it all.
Every couple of days, they'd drag him back into this cursed operating room, where Francis would subject him to some new form of torment. The methods changed, but the cruelty only escalated.
When Robert's body couldn't take it anymore, they'd pause—let him heal just enough to start again. Rinse and repeat.
He quickly realized this place wasn't interested in answers. They were experimenting. Testing limits. Seeing what the human body—and mind—could endure.
He wasn't the only victim, either. Dozens of others were trapped here. "Patients," they were called, but in truth, they were test subjects—prisoners with no rights and no future.
Robert understood now. There were only two ways out of this place: death… or escape.
And he had no intention of dying here.
…
Francis frowned as Robert remained silent.
"So you're still not going to talk?" he said coldly. "That's fine. We have time."
He wheeled over a tray of instruments and dipped his fingers in a small vial of liquid. He smeared it across Robert's temples with practiced care.
"You'll be connected to an AC circuit next," Francis muttered, his voice as casual as if he were discussing the weather. "Don't worry, it won't kill you. But it'll hurt. A lot."
Robert's eyes widened when he saw the metal needles in Francis's hands. Electricity?
No way.
"Wait!" he blurted, panic breaking through his fog of pain and exhaustion.
Francis smirked. "Finally found your voice?"
He leaned in. "This is your last chance. Who are you?"
Robert's mind raced. He couldn't tell the truth. He couldn't even claim to be a superhero or alien—what if that invited more attention?
He needed something vague. Mysterious.
"It's… complicated," he muttered.
Francis's expression darkened. "Speak plainly."
Robert sighed dramatically. "Look, man, all I can say is—I know what I know, and what I don't know doesn't matter. You shouldn't know what I know, and I can't explain what you won't understand."
Francis blinked. "What?"
"I mean, there's no benefit in knowing. It's just… very deep stuff. Complicated. Political. Layered."
Francis stared at him, stunned into silence. "So your identity is…?"
"I know what I know. And what I don't know is irrelevant. You get me?"
Francis's eye twitched. His fake smile dropped like a mask sliding off.
"This better be your way of coping," he said icily. "Because it won't help you once I turn on the current."
Without another word, he jabbed the electrodes into Robert's temples.
…
Robert didn't know how long he was unconscious.
When he finally opened his eyes again, the operating room was gone. He was now in a massive, dimly lit hall filled with rows of hospital beds.
Figures in white gowns lay sprawled across the beds, some groaning, others screaming in agony. Most were silent—blank-eyed, lost, numb. Despair hung in the air like poison.
Robert winced, pain crashing through him like a wave. His body spasmed slightly, and cold sweat poured down his face.
"Damn it, Francis. You psycho…"
His nerves burned as if they'd been dipped in acid. Every muscle screamed with pain. His entire body felt like it had been electrocuted—which, of course, it had.
And yet, somehow, he was still alive.
Barely.
But Robert had been through worse. The pain was unbearable, but not unfamiliar. Gritting his teeth, he calmed his breath and forced himself to focus.
"It's time…"
In that moment, a screen appeared in the corner of his vision. A translucent panel, like a game menu:
[Player: Robert]
Sex: Male
Age: 18
Talent: None
Robert stared at it, stunned.
This was the UI from a mobile game he had played before all of this—Talent Ascension Simulator, a game inspired by Danganronpa. It allowed players to unlock powerful talents by completing missions and leveling up characters.
In that game, you could cultivate the perfect human: someone with elite strength, intelligence, charisma, and more.
And somehow… it had followed him into this world.
A cheat panel. A system.
His way out.
His only hope.
With trembling fingers, Robert stared at the glowing screen, a sense of purpose finally rising in his chest.
Time to turn the tables.