Serial Number: A1Z26 Cipher

Lasers and bullets stormed the scene as Axel and I tackled the robots one by one, gradually getting pushed back. Normally, we’d give it our all to fight back, but with the truth that these robots were once ordinary humans plaguing the back of our minds, we couldn’t help but hesitate a bit.

These things used to be people. These things used to have normal lives before that doctor robbed them, and the possibility that I could’ve ended up like one of them made me shudder. Not to mention, these guys were only the successful ones. God only knew how many lives Dr. Flint threw away to rot in the junkyards like me.

Their distorted grunts, awkward movement, and slightest twitches of hesitation before firing as if they were desperately trying to hold themselves back... Now seeing them in a new light, I began to wonder if these "successful" subjects still retained a trace of themselves, trapped somewhere inside even after a full transformation. The thought of that made me squeeze my fists with a newfound resolve.

If I were them, I wouldn't want to suffer any longer.

So, I coated my wires in fire and electricity, slicing them through their necks and freeing them from their prisons. It was the least I could do as a fellow victim.

Being the perceptive detective Axel was, he picked up on my intentions and stayed out of my way, confronting the robots that snuck up behind us instead.

When Axel raised his force field and blocked their bullets, I spun around, leaped over his shoulder, and slashed the crowd of androids, blowing them up. One slid behind me while I retracted my wires, but Axel shot it down before it fired first. We kept backing each other as such, but with their tough armor, we barely managed to take down a few before giving up on fighting and dodging them.

We—more like I—practically bulldozed through the crowd and blocked the projectiles, rushing through the hallways and intersections. Using my X-ray vision, I eventually spotted an unoccupied room, and for once, I’d rather hide and give us a break than continue wasting our stamina. I yanked the detective by his wrist, kicked the door open, and flung him inside before slamming it shut and barricading it with a nearby file cabinet.

“Oww, I wish you’d stop throwing me around,” Axel grumbled, rubbing his lower back. “I’m getting old, y’know.”

“Exactly. I’m helping you retire early. Aren’t I nice?”

“Ugh, I’m not that old yet.” He pushed himself back up, dusted his clothes, and looked around the experiment room, shivering.

Dimmed lights reflected off the metallic walls, illuminating a padded examination table at the center of the room, surrounded by robotic arms and overhead scanners. Nearby, a control panel and a few diagnostic machines displayed some recorded data: heart rates, neural activity, genetic readings, and all that scientific nonsense. Despite its clean, sanitized appearance, I didn’t need to see the data to know this room was where victims became statistics—or worse.

“See anyone around?” asked Axel.

“Nope. It’s just us,” I said.

“Phew. Alright, time to dig around.”

I nodded and raised an arm toward the nearest control panel.

“No, wait,” he said, grabbing my wrist. “I was talking to myself—let me do the scavenging for once.”

“Hm? What’s the problem?”

“Well, it’s just… I have a bad feeling about this.”

I tilted my head as Axel approached a monitor and opened every file he could find, expanding dozens of tabs before a certain file finally greeted him, one he had been searching for all this time. He almost clicked on it, but before he did, he tossed me an immensely guilty, knowing look.

“What's wrong?” I asked.

He curled his fists and faced the monitor again. “If my hunch is right, then I want to ask this first—are you sure you want to know your real identity? Even if it might hurt you?”

I raised a brow. “Yes? What did you figure out?”

He took a long breath. “Truth is, I've actually had an idea of who you might be for a while, but for once, I really don't want to believe it.” He eyed the file and swallowed. “But now, I think I’ve found the evidence to confirm it, and I don’t think you're ready for it.”

Somehow, that tense, uneasy tone in his voice began to seep into me, and I gave him a nervous glance in return. Somewhere deep down, my subconscious mind managed to brew up the worst-case scenario—that my true identity would make me nauseous with overwhelming guilt, regret, and shame, one that no amount of time would ever allow me to come to terms with.

After all, on that night, I’d cried for them when I shouldn’t. It was my first and only mission that I’d ever cried after completing it. So, could that mean…?

No, no, I couldn’t be him.

…Right?

Before my anxiety took over, I nodded and said, “Show it anyway—I want to know my real name.”

Axel deeply inhaled. "Your choice," he said, opening a file titled “ATS” and revealing a list of new names. After scanning the list, a knot formed in my stomach when I found a name I truly didn’t want to see here of all places.

And of course, Axel clicked on it, opening up a holographic video footage.

Almost immediately, my heart dropped when I saw myself unconscious and restrained on the very same examination table behind us, with short, dark brown hair and patches of green at the top and a sickly complexion. 

An unfamiliar old man in a lab coat—with veiny, metallic skin, white hair, and gray, triangle eyes—approached the camera, adjusting it to make the view brighter. It was only when he started to speak that everything clicked. I held my breath, listening to my "creator's" words.

“‘This is log entry number four for ATS—android test subject—#124, Zain Floryn, a 22-year-old male. After the Neuronites replaced his fractured bones and fixed other fatal injuries from a car accident into metallic prosthetics, he was injected with an extra 3cc of Neuronite and exposed to EMP waves under this radio tower for approximately six hours. As a result, it significantly affected his genetic makeup, changing his appearance and internal structures.

Visual observation reveals that the subject’s hair and eye color have changed. His hair now grows dark green, and his amber eyes have turned red. X-ray scanners further confirm that most of his organs, including his left eye, have fully transformed into metallic substances.

Due to manufacturing laws requiring all android citizens to have triangle eyes, I prepared prosthetic eyes before his integration into society. So far, his left eye prosthetic surgery has been completed, and an X-ray vision system has been installed for the subject’s use. 

However, something is wrong with his right eye and heart. Despite his pupils growing concentric circles, his right eye is still organic with bloodshot veins. Even more surprising, his heart remains fully unchanged.

I first believed that something jammed my radio frequencies, but closer observation reveals that the subject’s immunity system is resisting the presence of Neuronites itself. Fascinating. My second hypothesis—that the subject's tenacious will to live is strong enough to interfere with his transformation and maintain his physical stability—is true. 

No matter. With the subject already suffering memory loss and memorizing the forged identity I've prepared in earlier logs, he may still be useful, so I will not discard him… yet. Perhaps with his newly enhanced physical abilities, he may be able to eliminate those who would pry into my business.

To avoid any suspicion of his human identity, I also decided to give him a custom android name at the last minute, which may have affected his mind. Therefore, this questionnaire will assess his current memories, and if he proves successful, I will test his emotional control with his first mission.'

He scribbled something on his clipboard before turning around and switching on the examination lights. Zain groaned and squinted at the lights, his abnormal, red and yellow eyes shaking.

‘Now then, you will answer my questions as usual. Do you understand?’

He twitched his lips. ‘Y-Yes,’ he croaked.

‘Are you restrained?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you know where you are?’

‘No.’

‘Do you know any friends or family members?’

‘...No.’

‘Do you know who I am?’

‘No.’

‘Do you know who you are?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are you an android?’

‘...Yes.’

‘State your identity.’

‘I… I’m—ai—i-n-number… 26010914… Radio Jam.’

The doctor scribbled more notes on his clipboard and turned off the light. ‘Excellent. Alright, Radio Jam. Here’s your first assignment…’”

The recording ended there.

I collapsed to my knees, wide-eyed and speechless. My chest sunk as if the truth anchored its way in, falling into the depths of hell where I should belong.

My real name was Zain Floryn. I was Ronan’s and Lily’s son.

And I was the one who killed them. Me.

I… killed my own parents.