I lift my newly acquired clearance keycard up to the scanner, half-expecting that it won’t work.

 

“Access granted,” a voice says. The doors open and I step inside. “Nicholas Lawrence. Age 28.”

 

I start to descend, heading down to a place few have access to. Floor Zero. I was cleared for this mission yesterday; told I was a perfect candidate.

 

“Soldier.” A tall, bald man I’ve seen a few times in the lunch hall nods, standing alert with his hands behind his back as I step out of the elevator.

 

“Sir.” I nod sharply, continuing down a bright hallway that smells strongly of bleach.

 

Distant voices come through the walls as an elderly man in a white coat skulks around the corner, a quiet fury in his eyes as he speaks to a nurse. I clear my throat to let him know I’ve arrived.

 

“You must be Lawrence,” he says, looking me up and down.

 

I salute, standing at attention. “I am.”

 

“This way.”

 

I have questions, but I won’t be asking them.

 

We enter an open room at the end of the hall. “Have a seat,” Dr. Callahan says gruffly, meeting my eyes. The sweat on his brow tells me something has already gone wrong today. “Nervous, soldier?”

 

I swallow as I sink into the chair, feeling my heart skip a beat. “I suppose I’m a bit perplexed as to why I was chosen for this. I’ve been in the combat sector for the last five years.”

 

He adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his prominent nose. “Only the most loyal soldiers are chosen for this mission.”

 

“Oh,” I say, feeling pride swell in my stomach.

 

He glances at his notes. “Your record is impeccable. We knew you’d be a perfect candidate.”

 

“For what, exactly?”

 

He takes a breath. “Have you played many video games, Lawrence?”

 

“Who has time for those?”

 

“I quite enjoy them,” he says with a frown. “Got my grandson a Playstation Nine for Christmas last year and I have to say, they’ve come a long way since my youth. Anyway, we’re testing the effects of virtual reality programming on the human body.”

 

“For a combat mission?”

 

“Nothing gets past you,” he laughs.

 

“What’s that for?” I motion toward a large needle on the table next to us. Bright gold flecks swimming in pearlescent liquid.

 

“That,” he says, “is a multipurpose solution. It’s filled with tiny sensors that take your vitals.” He grabs a pair of latex gloves and snaps them on. “Any questions?”

 

A wave of nausea passes through me as I shake my head.

 

He nods, administering the injection in my right arm. It doesn’t sting, but I shiver as the cold enters my bloodstream.

 

“Head on in and we’ll begin,” he says, motioning toward an oddly shaped door.

 

I walk through, entering a large, stark white room. The door closes. Locks. Just as I look back there’s a high-pitched sound and the walls pixellate before transforming into an open graveyard.

 

Thick fog blows through the moonlit landscape as sounds of nocturnal creatures fill the space around me. I hold out my arms, realizing I’m wearing a kind of virtual reality armor. I can actually feel the fabric against my skin; hear the leaves crunch beneath my boots.

 

A thundering growl comes from nearby and I jump, alerted to the sound of my weapons atop my back clanging against each other. Instinctually, I pull out a long sword and slice it through the air, surprised by how real the weapon feels in my hand.

 

My heart pounds as a wolf-hybrid creature leaps in front of me on thick hind legs, snarling. It lunges forward and I swing my sword, taking its head off. Hot splatters of blood hit my face as I cough on the toxic, metallic air. Another one lunges from behind a gravestone, nicking my arm with its claws.

 

I reach down and pull a gun from my holster, hitting the beast between the eyes. It falls to the ground with a yelp as I take off in a run across the overgrown weeds toward a crypt, looking for a place to hide. Once inside, I duck behind an ancient coffin and hear a loud growl. Then another. I’m trapped.

 

* * *

 

I wake up in a hospital bed, soaked with sweat.

 

“You’re okay,” Dr. Callahan says, touching my shoulder.

 

“Where am I?”

 

“The recovery room.”

 

I died. I know I did. I felt their teeth tearing my flesh. It was so real.

 

“We’ll keep you for observation overnight. Get some rest.”

 

“Thank you, Doctor.”

 

After hours of being unable to sleep, I slide out of bed, feeling my knees buckle as I stagger across the room to the mirror. A sharp pain shoots through my abdomen as I lift my shirt. A square border on my flesh glows. Stitches.

 

I’m suddenly hit with a barrage of fragmented memories. Gazing up at bright hallway lights, lulled in and out of consciousness by the voices of Dr. Callahan and his team hovering over me with surgical instruments. Another injection. A jagged, rectangle flap of something being placed over my chest.

 

“What did they do to me?” I ask my reflection as Dr. Callahan enters the room.

 

He clears his throat. “We’ve been studying the effects of Xenomorph skin healing human injuries.”

 

“Xenomorph?”

 

“We acquired live ones on our last mission, and when we dissected them, their skin seemed to heal itself. We thought we could use that to our advantage. Create a fleet of unstoppable soldiers by fusing their skin to yours.”

 

I’m stunned silent.

 

“The healing effect only works when the skin is severely damaged. We tried to outsmart it using virtual reality,” he says, meeting my eyes. “This is the first time it’s actually worked.”

 

Alarm bells are ringing in my head, but there’s no going back now. “W-what’s next?”

 

A slow, ominous smile spreads across his face. “Phase two.”