The human resistance wasted no time beginning their experiments. Within hours of his capture, Subject 23 found himself strapped to a reinforced examination table in what had once been a military research facility. The scientists who approached him wore expressions that mixed fear, hatred, and scientific curiosity in equal measure.

  "Subject appears male, approximately 18-20 years of age," dictated a woman in a b coat, her voice clinically detached as she circled the table. "Physically indistinguishable from human except for enhanced dentition and eye reflectivity consistent with other specimens."

  Subject 23 remained silent as they photographed, measured, and examined him. Unlike the other vampires they had captured—the ones who struggled and snarled against restraints—he offered no resistance. This passive cooperation seemed to unnerve them more than aggression would have.

  "Initial tests will determine baseline vulnerabilities compared to standard specimens," the lead scientist continued, nodding to her assistants.

  The first experiment began at dawn the following day. They wheeled his examination table into a chamber with retractable ceiling panels, then retreated behind thick observation gss. When the panels slid open, direct morning sunlight flooded the room, bathing him in golden light.

  From behind the gss, he heard surprised murmurs. The scientists had expected him to combust, to scream in agony, to struggle against his restraints as his skin burned away. Instead, he simply y there, the sunlight warm against his skin but causing no damage whatsoever.

  "Subject shows complete immunity to ultraviolet radiation," the lead scientist noted, her voice betraying a hint of disappointment. "First recorded case of daylight resistance in any specimen."

  They left him in the sunlight for six hours, monitoring his vital signs for any change. By midday, they had accepted that this approach would yield no results and moved on to their next test.

  Silver was their second attempt. Having observed the metal's corrosive effect on standard vampires, they applied silver needles, silver-ced solutions, and finally, silver dust directly to exposed tissue. Again, their subject defied expectations—the metal caused momentary discomfort but left no sting damage. Within seconds of each application, his tissues returned to normal.

  "Subject demonstrates immunity to silver," the scientist recorded. "Secondary weakness absent."

  Wood followed silver—splinters and stakes carved from various trees were driven into non-vital areas. Each penetration healed almost immediately after the wood was removed. The stake that should have paralyzed him when pced near his heart merely caused temporary pain before his body adapted, pushing the foreign object out through rapidly regenerating tissue.

  "Regenerative capabilities exceed all previous specimens by orders of magnitude," noted a younger scientist, unable to hide his fascination despite the grim nature of their work.

  As days stretched into weeks, the experiments grew more invasive. Surgical teams attempted to collect tissue samples, only to find that removed pieces deteriorated too rapidly for proper study. His blood, when extracted, maintained its properties longer but still degraded before they could complete their analyses.

  During one particurly ambitious session, they attempted to remove an entire limb for observation. They used a mechanical saw designed for battlefield amputations, cutting through his left arm at the elbow while monitoring his neural responses. The severed forearm was immediately rushed to a separate boratory for analysis. Meanwhile, before the scientists could even begin closing the wound, new tissue was already forming at the amputation site. Within minutes, his arm had completely regenerated—bones, muscles, nerves, skin—all perfectly reconstructed.

  In the adjacent b, the removed limb rapidly deteriorated, turning to ash within twenty minutes of separation from his body.

  "It's like the cells are programmed to self-destruct when separated from the host organism," the geneticist reported with obvious frustration. "We can't maintain viable samples long enough for proper sequencing."

  Subject 23 remained silent through all of this, enduring their experiments without compint. He could have broken free at any time—their restraints were designed for standard vampires and couldn't truly hold him—but he submitted willingly to their tests. Each procedure, each cut, each chemical agent they introduced to his system seemed like appropriate penance for the suffering he had unleashed upon the world.

  By the second month, the scientists had moved on to chemical and biological agents. They administered toxins that would kill humans instantly, viruses engineered for maximum lethality, radiation doses that should have destroyed his cellur structure. His body neutralized each attack, his regenerative abilities adapting to each new challenge with increasing efficiency.

  "The subject is not just healing," observed the lead scientist during one te-night analysis session. "It's evolving in response to our tests. Each new challenge we introduce is overcome more quickly than the st. It's developing resistance to everything we try."

  This observation led to their most extreme experiment yet. If his body adapted to overcome each threat, perhaps overwhelming it with multiple simultaneous attacks would succeed where individual approaches had failed.

  They prepared a chamber lined with UV mps to simute concentrated sunlight, pumped in aerosolized silver particles, and introduced a cocktail of the most lethal compounds they had developed. Then they ignited the chamber, creating an inferno of chemical fire.

  Through the observation window, they watched as his body withstood this assault. The fire consumed his flesh, the chemicals corroded his tissues, yet even as parts of him burned away, new cells formed to repce them. The regeneration couldn't keep pace with the destruction at first, reducing him temporarily to a partially skeletal figure wreathed in fmes.

  Then something changed. His regeneration accelerated, adapting to the extreme conditions. The fire continued to burn, but his body reconstructed itself faster than it could be destroyed. Within the inferno, he remained conscious, his eyes open and aware through the entirety of the process.

  After thirty minutes, they shut down the chamber, extinguishing the fmes and venting the toxic gases. When the smoke cleared, he y intact on the charred examination table, his body completely restored despite having been partially incinerated minutes before.

  "My God," whispered one of the younger scientists. "It can't be killed."

  The lead researcher stared through the observation gss, her clinical detachment finally cracking to reveal fear. "No—this is worse than the others. Much worse. If this strain were to spread..."

  They didn't finish the thought, but all present understood the implications. The feral vampires that ravaged the outside world were deadly predators, but they had weaknesses that could be exploited. This subject—this anomaly—appeared to have none.

  What they didn't understand was that Subject 23 wasn't simply another variation of vampire. He was the source—the original mutation from which all others derived. His body contained the blueprint for the entire species, with adaptive capabilities far beyond those of his descendants.

  Despite their growing fear, the scientists couldn't abandon their research. If anything, their subject's extraordinary resilience made him too valuable to destroy, even if they had possessed the means to do so. Instead, they refined their approach, focusing less on elimination and more on understanding.

  They established a new testing protocol—systematically introducing him to every substance, energy type, and physical trauma they could devise, carefully documenting his body's adaptive responses. With each test, his resilience increased. Acids that had caused temporary damage in earlier trials now barely affected him. Radiation levels that had once slowed his regeneration were completely ineffective.

  "It's like it's learning," one researcher observed after a particurly grueling series of tests. "Not consciously, but at a cellur level. Every time we try something, its body adapts to become more resistant, even to threats it hasn't encountered before."

  Through it all, Subject 23 remained compliant. He ate the food they provided—unlike other vampires, he required regur sustenance beyond blood—and submitted to their increasingly desperate experiments without resistance. The scientists noticed this behavioral anomaly but couldn't reconcile it with what they knew of vampire psychology.

  "Why doesn't it fight back?" asked a new researcher during an observational session. "It could break those restraints easily based on the strength measurements we've recorded."

  The lead scientist had no answer. None of them understood that their subject welcomed the pain, the endless tests, the systematic attempts to destroy him. In his mind, he deserved far worse than they could inflict. Each failed execution was not a victory but a disappointment—further proof that he could not atone for the catastrophe he had unleashed.

  Three months into his captivity, the testing reached its pinnacle. Having exhausted conventional approaches, the scientists prepared for what they called a "systematic disassembly"—a process that would attempt to separate and preserve his component parts while studying his regenerative limits.

  The night before this final experiment, he y in his reinforced cell, reflecting on his journey. The constant pain of their experiments had become merely background noise to his consciousness. Physical suffering meant little compared to the weight of his guilt. He had hoped they might find a way to destroy him permanently, to end his existence and with it, the constant reminder of what he had done. That hope had gradually faded as his body adapted to overcome everything they attempted.

  What he didn't realize was that his ordeal was approaching its end, though not in the way he anticipated. Miles away, Eli was closing in on his location, having developed his own abilities and spent months tracking his brother through the connection they shared. The vampire network that linked Subject 23 to all his creations also provided a faint tether between the brothers—one that Eli had finally learned to follow.

  Tomorrow would bring not the "systematic disassembly" the scientists had pnned, but a very different kind of dismantling—one that would forever change the course of both brothers' existence.

  But for tonight, Subject 23 remained in his cell, silent and unresisting, waiting for another day of penance in a world he had irrevocably altered.