On the quality improvement of Omega agents

"Sir" Garcia picked a suitable distance for herself, and then said cautiously: "Do you have any instructions?

Bruce stood in the corridor outside the infirmary, and he stared at the doctors and technicians who were busy with various complicated examinations with a cold expression. "You can leave now, Captain."

Garcia tried not to look so relieved.

Bruce heard the footsteps of the female assistant leaving, and turned his attention back to those transparent glass curtain walls.The blond agent was placed on a simple hospital bed, and several people in white coats carried out the examination in an orderly manner.Even though the blond man looked lifeless at the moment, the corners of his mouth still had a slight curvature, as if he could encounter some wonderful scene in a dream—or, objectively speaking, in a coma.Bruce thought of the strange second he felt when Randall called that "sir" in his almost soft voice.He knew that was just the effect of pheromones.

But Bruce was still uncomfortable with it.He has always had a keen sense of smell and vigilance for danger.

When the person in charge of the medical department came out, the pair looked at Bruce Stewart's frowning expression.Can't help but be more careful.

Bruce said lightly: "Is there something wrong with Mr. James's body?"

The white coat said: "Breakpoint No. [-] has serious problems..." He gritted his teeth and said directly, "Drug dependence."

Bruce raised his eyebrows, and he looked at the doctor questioningly: "What medicine?"

The white coat said: "Breakpoint No. [-] is in good physical condition, and all functions are maintained at a normal level. The medicine he relies on is the 'Breakpoint' strengthening agent, sir."

Bruce listened to the doctor begin to explain the unfathomable nouns and principles of medicine, with a deadpan face.He knew exactly what "Breakpoint" brought to those omega.Their body structure has been modified, their estrus period has been squeezed into a concentrated period of the year, and they have gained a chance to become field agents—not just as special effects of aphrodisiacs and slaves for high-ranking officials to play with , - an opportunity to become powerful.

He vaguely remembered the expression on the blonde man's face when he asked "Can I become as strong as you?" before he was called "Breakpoint No. [-]".

Bruce suddenly showed an almost mocking look on his face. ——Strengthening agent drug dependence, is this the strength you are after?

He didn't keep his eyes on the nervous doctor, and suddenly interrupted him lightly: "What are the side effects of strengthening agent drug dependence?"

The white coat subconsciously glanced into the ward.He explained: "The reinforcement agent is to maintain the effect of the brain surgery of the subject, to ensure that the 'breakpoint' will not be overly impacted by the omega's nature, so that the agent can freely drive his hormones to volatilize and cover up, and not really fall into it. Estrus, after all, frequently exudes pheromones or is exposed to estrous odors, which is not conducive to the effect of surgery. But ingesting too much of the strengthening agent will make the blockage in the agent's brain more serious, which will cause severe brain and whole body damage. Pain, if it lasts too long, it may cause death." The doctor glanced at Bruce's expression, and continued: "'Breakpoint' over-relying on reinforcements is like a time bomb, sir, they have built a wall in their minds, this The taller and thicker the wall, the more it can block their nature and allow them to control their bodies, but when the wall falls, the more serious the damage and shock will be."

After listening to a long passage in the white coat, Bruce said, "Method."

The white coat said: "It is very difficult to get rid of drug addiction. We have never encountered a similar situation before. We can only try to gradually reduce the reinforcement ration of Breakpoint No. [-]. During the withdrawal period, he can no longer use his pheromones. .”

Bruce looked at the room surrounded by clear glass.It hardly looked like a ward, or an observation room or anything. —It was a laboratory.

The man narrowed his brown eyes, and suddenly said: "There is no example for research before."

The white coat nodded, his eyes widened in an instant, and a gleam of joy floated across his face.

Bruce's voice was flat and without ups and downs: "Don't do the treatment yet."

The white coat made a movement similar to standing at attention, "Understood, sir." He watched Bruce turn and leave, then immediately turned around and ran into the laboratory, waving his hands indiscriminately and ordering the staff who were undergoing routine inspections: "Remove the device and stop diluting the drug concentration in his blood!"

Several staff members stopped their work and looked at the white coat.

"We've just been approved for a live observation of stimulant addiction."

dreamland.

Randall found himself walking down a narrow alley in the snow.Wearing a tattered overcoat, the blond agent tried to remember a time when he had such poor taste, and found that the conclusions he had drawn were not pleasant.

He did know he was dreaming.He knew that he was walking in an alley ten years ago, and he also knew that a few minutes later he would be blocked by a group of gangsters, and experience what it means to "hit you until you don't even remember your name".

He continued to walk forward, feeling the snow fall on him, and then quickly melted into icy droplets, seeping into his skin.He subconsciously tried to resist the urge to shiver, but found that he failed.He can only look at the things around him and feel his every move through this body, but he cannot control his body.

"Hey, isn't this the thief who stole the biscuits in the convenience store?" A gangster walked towards him shaking his shoulders.Randall clenched his fists subconsciously, and he even found himself trembling slightly.

"Go away, Jason," he heard himself whisper.Unfortunately, there is no deterrent.

A few other gangsters followed that Jason and approached him. They laughed maliciously, and then blocked all of Randall's way.

Randall stared closely at the leader: "I didn't hinder you, please don't block my way."

Jason laughed loudly: "Look, this kid still has a hard mouth." Several gangsters roared with laughter.

He heard himself say as a teenager: "Shut up, Jason, didn't your mother teach you that it would be disgusting to talk if you don't brush your teeth in the morning?" Randall laughed in his heart, and sure enough, his personality has never changed , even at that time he was still far away from the so-called "powerful".

What followed was punches and kicks from the opponent.Someone kicked him hard in the stomach, Randall heard himself let out a hoarse scream, and then almost flew sideways.He fell on the snow, and the snow on the ground was messed up because of his stagger.He heard his own voice moan, choked with pain. ——That weak, vulnerable self.

The whole body was in severe pain, and Randall found that his tolerance to pain had been greatly reduced in the dream, or, ten years ago, he was so fragile that he couldn't even bear a punch.This made him feel an inexplicable shame.He couldn't stop panting, and heard the sound of wheezing and wheezing, and the cold air was tearing at his lungs like a knife.It's fucking cold in New York in January.

A few punks swaggered over him, and the red-haired Jason spat a mouthful of phlegm under Randall's nose as he passed him, then rubbed his cheek with the sole of his shoe, and swaggered away.

Randall held his breath for a moment, letting the cold air fill his chest as if it could suppress the rising anger within.He closed his eyes for a moment.

The blond boy lay quietly on the dirtied snow, as if he didn't feel the cold.There was something between a sneer and a fierce expression in the sea blue eyes.He never felt sorry for himself, he didn't need to pray for warmth, security, and dignity.All he needs is a self strong enough to dominate life and death.Lying in the snow, Randall thought to himself that he had gone crazy in his teens.

He doesn't care about being destroyed.

He listened to the rustling sound, a pair of boots slowly stepped on the snow and stopped in front of his eyes.Randall raised his head with great effort, and he saw a pair of brown eyes.

"Do you need me to help you get up?"

"--what!"

The man on the test bench shuddered suddenly, he tried to use the strength of his lower back muscles to sit up - after all, lying down in this position is not suitable for facing someone you know is strong enough.Then he opened his eyes a second later.

"The subjects' brains remained active."

"Subjects had rapid heartbeats, convulsions, and pain responses."

"The subject wakes up! The subject wakes up!"

The noise was so loud that it made his brain ache. Those words poured in and slipped out of his ears, and his brain seemed unable to process the information for a moment. Randall blinked his eyes.

Randall found himself staring at the white and miserable ceiling of the infirmary two seconds later, and he still maintained the weak and leaky supine position, his hands and feet were firmly fixed on the hospital bed like a test bench , the leather strap drew dark purple marks on his wrist - of course, a large part of the reason was his own violent struggle.

Randall took a deep breath, and then looked at the doctor who was staring at him with a strange enthusiasm: "Where's Bruce?"

Of course he remembered what happened.The severe headache didn't erase the agent's powerful memory.His eyes quickly changed from being confused at the first second to calm and stern.

The white coat obviously didn't expect Randall to regain consciousness so quickly, and was taken aback by his question.Words stuck in my mouth again.

Randall smiled softly, and he signaled with his eyes: "Can you untie me, I swear I won't bite."

The white coat smiled, although it was obvious to Randall that it was a mask of hypocrisy and nervousness.He himself undid the straps and metal manacles that bound Randall. "Agent Breakpoint Three, how do you feel?"

Randall raised his eyebrows: "I thought you were recording the data." Pain index, physical response, brain functioning.Physiological data is more honest than anything else.

The white coat acquiesced, and just said: "If you feel exhausted, you can take a rest, Agent, you just experienced a violent reaction. I guess there is no pleasant scene in the dream."

Randall looked at the doctor indifferently.The man's sea-blue eyes are like some kind of inorganic substance, beautiful, but impossible to pry into.He had always hated those who tried to get into his head to see what he was thinking--overreaching.

The white coat was stared at by the blond agent, making his body hairy for a while, as if what was staring at him were the pupils of some kind of beast, and being locked on meant death.

Randall saw his nervousness, and finally laughed.He jumped off the "test platform" neatly, and when his feet touched the ground, he inadvertently supported the railing, and then blinked his eyes mysteriously.

"That dream was indeed unpleasant, but there is always something good about it."