The door hissed shut behind her, leaving only the soft bubbling of the tank, the hum of systems, and the heartbeats of six ajussis.
...
3 month later
The door hissed open with its usual hydraulic whisper, but the mood was anything but gentle.
Invicta strolled in like she owned the place because she did wearing her lab coat and a black tank top underneath, humming something that sounded suspiciously like a war march.
Her long hair was tied in a high, messy bun, pink bunny flip flops for boots.
"Alright, sleeping beauty, round two,"
She chirped, eyes locking onto the tank in the center of the room where Dracula floated in perfect stillness.
The tank depressurized with a hiss and gurgle. A surge of mist swept across the floor as robotic arms gently hoisted Dracula's body from the fluid.
The glow of his yellow-golden cybernetic eyes dimmed in their idle state, lids half lowered in deep unconsciousness.
Invicta barely gave him a glance as she placed him onto the surgical slab like she was dumping groceries on a table.
"Youre gona have some scars after this but hey look on the bright side clean and neat scars are s*xy as hell."
With a mental command, the operating arms activated again. She cracked her neck and tapped her temple.
"Alright let's put some Implants Into this meat chassis of yourse, shall we?"
The arms zipped forward with surgical speed. First, she cut into his chest and stomach, carving with high precision lasers while stabilizer arms clamped his limbs.
The skin parted, the muscle beneath peeled aside, revealing the perfect insertion points near his organs.
With grace only someone who had done this for centuries could possess, Invicta started slotting in the cybernetic Implants that flood his bloodstream with synthetic combat stimulants 24/7.
She connected the final nodes to his organs and nervous system watching the system pulse to life and sync with his existing neural implant.
"Perfect. You'll never sleep properly again, but hey, tradeoffs."
With the final implant fused and sealed, she cauterized the wounds with a wave of the laser and had the arms hoist him back up.
Back into the tank he went this time set for three more months of deep integration and regeneration. Recovery Cycle: Extended. System Calibration: 23% Chemical Synchronization: In Progress.
She turned to walk away, then paused mid stride. Her eyes flicked to the five other tanks lining the wall, where Dracula's battlebrothers were still floating, still in pre augmented perfection.
She blinked. Then smirked.
"Hmph. Why the f*ck not?"
Five mental pulses fired through the surgical grid. One by one, the tanks began to drain. Robotic arms moved in perfect sequence, dragging the five floating bodies out of their chambers and slamming them down onto five separate slabs in a perfectly spaced grid.
Invicta rolled up her sleeves.
"Let's tune you junkyard uncles up to spec."
She didn't even hesitate. Cracked skulls, exposed brain tissue, microchip insertion Pain suppression, fear reduction, modular rest state upgrades
Wana be s*th hued cybernetic eyes lenses drilled and installed with full combat HUD, thermal, zoom, and threat detection and ewrything else.
Each one handled with speed and perfection. Like gutting and rebuilding an old, beloved war rig. An hour later, she stepped back.
Five bruisers still unconscious, but now enhanced, streamlined, and dangerous again floated in silence.
She patted her hands together like she was dusting flour off them.
"There. Now you're almost as cool as him."
With a turn of her heel and not even a second glance, she strode out of the lab again. The door hissed shut behind her.
...
3 moths later
The low hum of the tanks filled the surgical chamber like a heartbeat, steady and constant. Vapor coiled around the base of the glass tubes as internal filtration systems cycled through nutrient rich fluid.
All six tanks glowed a soft blue, casting eerie light across Invicta's face as she stood barefoot in her shark patterned one piece pajamas, arms crossed, frowning like a pissed off schoolteacher.
Holographic windows flickered across her eyes. Six full body diagnostic reports floated in front of her, each one a stream of vitals, biofeedback, integration data, and adaptation markers.
And all of them looked… perfect. Too perfect.
"What the actual f*ck…"
She muttered under her breath, her frown deepening as she leaned closer to the readings. Dracula's recovery had been expected. More than that predicted, plotted, accounted for in her simulations after all she didnt want her boy toy to brake.
Still his body's ability which came as a suprise to her to integrate high grade tech, synthetic stimulants, and neural rewiring was impressive… but explainable. Barely.
The other five? Who she augmented on a casual whim because she felt like It.
"They're not supposed to be this good at it."
Robert, Julian, Darius, Paul, and Airid were integrating combat augmentations like they were vitamins. Not a single sign of tissue rejection. No nervous system overload.
No internal bleeding, seizures, organ failures none of the fun stuff she usually had to put out with a flamethrower and medgel.
Her frown darkened.
"I tested these augmentations first on a few random meatbags I yoinked with my old UFO drone. Ninety nine percent lethality rate."
She remembered those trials vividly. The 'UFO abduction' conspiracy had been her idea during a particularly boring century, abduct a few test subjects, see if they could survive a little body horror, and dump the rest somewhere with their memories scrambled like eggs.
Out of the hundred or so she'd abducted, only one survived past the first day. And he ended up believing he was Cleopatra.
But these six? They weren't just surviving. They were thriving.
"They're not even from Adams and Eves generation or pre birth genetically modified war apes,"
She growled.
"They're just six half drunk post military losers with more mental problems than IQ points."
She chewed her bottom black lipstick covered lip, her real body's mainframe burning hot as it processed simulations, genetic scans, predictive behavior models. All of it leading to the same inconclusive answer.
"Their DNR genomes are average. Bone density, muscular structure, neural elasticity, all within baseline. So what gives?"
She stared at Dracula's floating, unconscious form, synthetic combat stimulants pumping through his bloodstream like a cocktail of fury.
She groaned and ran both hands through her hair, mussing it up until she looked like a pissed off sea urchin.
"Ah, f*ck it. Whatever. Let's just finish this crap and go back to watching Joseon dynasty betrayals and hot dudes in hats."
She swiped a hand through the air, dismissing the data windows and activating the next surgical routine.
Dracula came first. Robotic arms hissed to life, sliding in with surgical grace as the tank drained. His limp form was lifted onto the slab like a g*dsdamn centerpiece, and Invicta got to work.
Nanocomposite tendon attachment. Ceramic bone grafting. What that translated to: cutting him open like a cadaver, attaching synthetic nanocomposite mesh capable of withstanding 20x human torque, and coating his bones with reinforced ceramic lattice structures lightweight, durable, and built for war.
Every tendon. Every joint. Every bone she touched got an upgrade.
His body jerked mid procedure, muscles spasming under the invasive modifications. But the sedatives and synthetic combat stimulants held him stable.
Once he was patched, stitched, and resealed with med laser precision, she turned her attention to the remaining five.
"You five better appreciate this."
Each of them received the same cybernetic Implants upgrade package as dracula did. The lab was filled with the scent of sterilized flesh and synthetic coolant as Invicta moved from one to the next, humming a K-drama theme under her breath while butchering and rebuilding six grown men like she was working on vintage cars.
And when the last one was sealed back up and lowered into his tank for another three month soak, she finally dusted off her hands.
"There. You're all beautiful little weapons now."
She yawned a long, exhausted yawn then turned and walked toward the exit, arms swinging lazily at her sides.
"I swear to g*ds, if they voice even one complaint after all this work I put In Im scrapping them for nutrients."
The door hissed shut behind her, leaving only the soft bubbling of six regeneration tanks.
...
MC POV
3 months later
A fluorescent light buzzed overhead in the kind of way that suggested even G*d was done with this place.
I sat at a round poker table with three very familiar faces: Child Me, who was currently chewing on a lollipop and kicking his legs under the chair.
Teenage Me, all rage and acne, flipping a chip between his fingers with the kind of forced coolness only puberty could supply.
And Early-Thirties Me, who looked like he was about to cry into his half smoked cigarette over a pile of unpaid bills and shattered hopes.
Above our heads, like some f*cked up sitcom gag, Angel Drac and Demon Drac were mid air, mid battle, and mid insult.