On the other side of the Earth, the sun beat down mercilessly. Yellow sand swirled in a sky-obscuring tempest, yet poplar trees and ferns stretched and grew towards the water source. A scorpion, entirely golden, raised its venomous claw, digging into the sand. Soon, it was hidden, awaiting prey.
A rattlesnake lay coiled in the withered grass, its tail emitting a chilling rattle from time to time. An old dove spun in circles on the sandy ground, seemingly in a frenzy of excitement, appearing almost like a drunkard. Its grey-black feathers would occasionally flare like an inverted screen, then fold back like an arrow's fletching.
The intense heat warped the air, creating a distorted space resembling an illusion. A few hundred meters away lay a small oasis, dotted with broad-leafed trees. Their sparse, overlapping leaves concealed a fortress, appearing as ethereal and unreal as a mirage in this desolate landscape.
The building stood at the heart of the oasis, with the water source flowing gently past the main entrance. On a sentry tower, a man rested his M416, the safety still on, his barrel not pointed outward, but deliberately aimed inside the structure. This unconventional placement of the firearm seemed to suggest to outsiders that the true terror originated not from the outside, but from within this seemingly barren and desolate fortress.
The fortress was encircled by a dense electric fence. Often, the day after a sandstorm, the carcasses of snakes and other creatures would be found hanging from the wires. The lead-grey building exuded a chilling aura, surrounded by ferns. On either side, sturdy buildings housed men armed with M416s, ready for deployment.
It was hard to fathom the existence of such a large research institute in such a remote location. Indeed, a slightly askew sign bore the blurry, bold characters for "Research Institute," scrawled as if by a madman.
At this moment, a man in his mid-forties, staggering slightly, pulled open a heavy gate. The grinding of the chute and gears produced an intensely jarring and grating sound.
With a sufficiently keen eye, one would notice that this man, without any assistance from motors or machinery, used only his own strength to open the gate, weighing three to four hundred catties.
The grating sound of the chute had already alerted the men in three directions. Three modified M416 rifle barrels simultaneously aimed at the man struggling to push open the gate.
"Number One, where are we shooting this time?" a languid voice came from the walkie-talkie at the main entrance.
"Reply, Number Two. For a devout believer like myself, I'd rather not fire," the man said, making a joke, his face remarkably calm.
"Number One, if you truly won't shoot, then I won't hold back." Besides another man's voice on the walkie-talkie, there was the crunching sound of potato chips being eaten, and, of course, the unmistakable hiss of flat soda.
"Reply, Number Three. If you keep making that noise, you'll be not far from becoming a fatty. Be careful those freaks go berserk and rip your intestines out."
"Number One, let them rip my guts out. My soda can drown them, so I won't be at a loss."
Although the three men were chattering on the walkie-talkie, their gun barrels had long been aimed at the powerful man preparing to escape through the gate.
The man's face was tinged with a sickly green, like an old invalid confined to bed for a long time in damp, cold weather. His muscles were severely atrophied, his skin sagged as if devoid of collagen. Yet, his strength, far exceeding that of ordinary people, moved the three men. His eyes also showed a dull, lifeless greyish-brown hue. Despite the searing heat, a puff of hot white breath could be seen escaping his mouth!
"Number One, how many stages do you think this guy has endured?"
"Number Two, see his pupils? Pay attention to the positions of the pupils in his left and right eyes. The colors are clearly different. If we have to say, he's probably passed the second stage and is in the early part of the third stage, the 'variant' stage."
"Number One, looks like another disgusting failure. The pit we dug last night will be perfect."
"Number Three, you like digging pits so much, have you dug pits for the three of us too?"
"Number One, absolutely. I am a man who prepares for all eventualities."
"Number Three, you still lack someone to drag all three of us into a pit and bury us. May God protect us~"
No sooner had Number One finished speaking than the man managed to pry open the gate. In a low, crawling posture, he lunged out of the vast open area of the research institute like a wild beast. To the left of the outdoor area were seven blue shipping containers holding daily supplies. To the right stood a towering broadcast transmission tower. The disgusting man, a failed variant, was heading directly for the tower at a speed almost imperceptible to the naked eye!
"Number One, keep your muzzle steady!"
"Number Two, relax. If I want to blow his head off, I won't even chip his teeth!" As Number One spoke, he began to hold his breath, his gun barrel tracking the green figure, but the kill order had not yet been given!
"Damn it, why haven't those lunatics given the order yet? It'll be bad if he escapes!"
"Number One, why are you so anxious? Even if he runs out, he'll die in this desert."
"Number Three, you don't know how dangerous this thing is. I still have bite marks from those freaks on my right leg. If it weren't for those lunatics' medicine, I'd probably have become such a monster by now!"
"Number One, you're clearly being overly cautious. No matter how monstrous he is, he's still just a human. This is the heart of the desert. I don't believe he can escape from here."
As they spoke, the man crawling on the ground had already climbed two-thirds of the way up the communication tower! The man stopped, and the three men aiming their guns also focused on him. As soon as an order came through the walkie-talkie, the modified 5.56 rounds would undoubtedly pierce his skull.
However, the order still did not come. Silence prevailed on the walkie-talkie. The man paused for about three to four seconds, then continued climbing towards the top. All three knew very well that the top of the transmission tower was where the transmitter was located!
"Number One, is he trying to destroy the transmitter?"
"Number Two, don't be ridiculous. If that were the case, would those lunatics wait until now?"
As soon as he spoke, under the tense gaze of the three men, the man pulled something from his waist!
"Number One, look what he's holding!" Number Three incredulously zoomed in with his scope.
Number One's face turned ashen. Through the scope, the man held a miniature soldering iron in one hand and a key in the other. He straddled the lead-grey steel bars of the tower with his legs, his hands moving with lightning speed.
"He's, he's repairing the base station communication line!"
"No, impossible! Variants in the variant stage shouldn't have any intelligence! Could it be, could it be that those lunatics succeeded?"