Forsaken by the State, Truth Unveiled to the World

在芝加哥贫民窟的一个冬夜，我站在孤儿院洗手间积水的水中，紧握着一把生锈的扳手。

水管又爆裂了。

七十年前那种纳粹血清的后遗症让我的身体越来越虚弱。

“乔爷爷，水管修好了吗？”

七岁的莉莉靠在门框上，抱着那个她缝了无数次的破旧娃娃。

她的声音让我想起多年前，在另一个战场上，和另一群孩子一起。

“快了，亲爱的。”

我一边咳嗽一边说：“今晚你会有热水的。”

话还没说完，加固门就被人狠狠踢开了。

孩子们的尖叫声刺破了我的耳膜。

还没等我站起来，六名全副武装的雇佣兵冲进了洗手间。

他们的头目卡特用靴子压碎了我刚修好的管道接头。

“詹姆斯·霍克。”

他说出了我七十年未曾听过的名字，语气中充满了轻蔑和轻蔑。

“普罗米修斯生物技术需要你配合常规采样。”

我看着他把脚下的水管弄坏，冰冷的水溅到莉莉的裙子上。

小女孩吓得后退，娃娃掉落在地。

“让孩子们先走，”我努力保持声音平静。“我会配合你的。”

卡特笑了。

我以前见过那样的笑容——1945年，当那些纳粹军官看我们这些“试验对象”时，他们也笑得一样。

“合作？”

他从战术袋里掏出一根粗得像婴儿手臂的采血针，随意地扔到我脚边。

“你自己来。让这些小混蛋看看这只老战犬现在的样子。”

我的膝盖撞到了冰冷的瓷砖地板上。水浸透了我的工裤。

莉莉哭着跑向我，但被一个雇佣兵的枪托挡住了。

针刺入静脉的那一刻，我咬紧了牙关。

七十年后我已经习惯了疼痛，但这些血液样本会被送到公司的实验室，那里穿白大褂的科学家们会把我当成一次性物品，就像纳粹曾经对待的那样。

“端粒降解率87%。”

卡特盯着手持分析仪的屏幕。

“细胞分裂接近极限。你彻底完了，老头。”

他蹲下，用手指戳了戳我的太阳穴。

“听着，废物。你现在唯一的价值就是配合我们完成最终的活数据收集。如果你敢跑，我会拆掉这破败的孤儿院，把这些不受欢迎的小混蛋送进实验室。”

有个雇佣兵觉得我流血太慢，举起M4步枪，把钢制枪托朝我后脑勺挥去。

I didn't know why they had such power, but I knew that experiments like this happened in every era.

I just happened to experience it twice.

I raised my swollen, deformed hand and caught the descending rifle.

The metal emitted a harsh twisting sound in my palm.

The high-strength steel stock was crushed into a deep dent, like squeezing butter.

The mercenary's face turned deathly pale.

I immediately released my grip and began coughing violently, collapsing to the ground.

That momentary release of power caused tearing pain in my lungs, and the taste of rust flooded my throat.

"What shoddy workmanship."

"This damn stock must have had cracks."

But I saw the flicker of fear in his eyes.

To cover that fear, he did something even more vicious.

Carter drew his tactical knife and walked toward the old heating boiler in the corner.

The blade split open the metal casing, the flames instantly extinguished, and Chicago's freezing wind poured into the room. He then kicked over the pot of hot soup on the stove—the children's only warm meal for the night. The scalding liquid splashed onto the ground, mixing with the cold water.

Lily screamed and ran over to pick up her doll. Carter grabbed her by the collar, lifted her up, and stomped his other foot on the worn toy.

"Listen, old man."

"Your genetic purity is still declining. I'll be back in three days. If you can't provide more valuable living data, I'll take all these unwanted little bastards back to the company."

Lily struggled desperately in his grasp, crying breathlessly.

I knelt on the ground, watching her tears, watching that doll trampled into the dirty water.

I said nothing.

Because if I spoke, if I moved, if I let those things from 1945 awaken in my body, I might die here, the children would lose their only shelter, and the company behind Carter would continue treating more people as experimental materials.

The roar of the convoy faded away.

Only the cold wind and the children's sobbing remained in the orphanage.

Lily walked over trembling, pulled a crumpled band-aid from her pocket, and carefully placed it on the needle mark on my arm.

"Grandpa Joe, does it hurt?"

I looked at her small hands, purple from the cold, something catching in my throat.

"It doesn't hurt, sweetheart."

"Grandpa doesn't hurt."