Experiment "Successful"

Twelve hours later, the researchers opened the incubator again.

This time, they planned to take a tissue sample—in other words, draw Lin Mo's blood for study.

A young assistant handled the procedure. Lin Mo did not recognize him. These staff members probably were not the people who had studied Homelander in the original story. At least, he had not seen Vogelbaum.

The young assistant swabbed Lin Mo's calf with disinfectant cotton, then picked up a fresh blood-drawing needle.

Lin Mo made no deliberate attempt to resist.

The needle came down.

Ting.

An extremely faint metallic clink rang out.

The young assistant froze. He glanced down at the needle, then at Lin Mo's calf.

The point had failed to pierce his skin.

Not only that, its very tip had visibly bent.

Assuming the needle was defective, the assistant immediately replaced it.

A second attempt.

The needle bent again.

"Doctor."

The assistant's voice changed.

"The needle can't penetrate his skin."

Several researchers in the observation room sprang to their feet.

The lead researcher pushed open the door and entered the laboratory.

He took the needle from the assistant and personally examined Lin Mo's skin.

There was no thickening or hardening. To the touch, it was still an ordinary infant's soft, delicate skin.

He switched to a thicker puncture needle and gradually applied more force.

The shaft slowly bent. Lin Mo began crying on cue, though not because it hurt.

A normal infant ought to cry when strangers repeatedly jabbed him with needles.

"Switch tissue-sampling tools."

Someone brought over a small scalpel.

The blade pressed against Lin Mo's calf.

The white-haired researcher did not apply force immediately. Instead, he first drew it lightly over the skin.

There was no cut.

He kept increasing the pressure. The blade rubbed against the skin with a faint scraping sound.

Lin Mo simply kept crying.

Seconds later, a tiny nick appeared in the blade.

Silence fell over the laboratory.

The young assistant stared at the damaged scalpel, shock and barely concealed excitement in his eyes. They exchanged glances and reached a conclusion.

"It looks like nullification adaptation."

"A defensive ability."

"V5 has reinforced his skin, muscles, and skeletal structure."

"No mutations, no organ failure, and no runaway powers."

The white-haired researcher's breathing noticeably quickened. Vought had already conducted countless Compound V experiments, but age—particularly infancy—had remained a hurdle they had never managed to overcome.

Most successful subjects displayed some degree of instability.

The stronger the ability, the greater the side effects and risk of losing control tended to be.

Some subjects had even killed researchers on the spot when their powers awakened.

Yet the infant before them had shown no offensive abilities whatsoever.

He had simply become very difficult to hurt.

Stable, safe, controllable.

For Vought, which was trying to commercialize superpowers, those three words mattered more than raw strength.

"Update the experimental findings."

The white-haired researcher drew a breath before speaking.

"V5 injection successful."

"Provisionally classify the manifested ability as absolute physical defense."

"Continue testing skeletal strength, temperature tolerance, and impact resistance. Let's see whether this defensive enhancement covers every aspect."

"Raise the subject's classification."

Listening to their discussion, Lin Mo quietly breathed a sigh of relief.

His gamble had paid off.

Vought had mistaken his innate racial abilities for enhancements granted by Compound V.

"Oh, and we need to report this to Dr. Vogelbaum." The researchers exchanged smiles. With this breakthrough, Vought would surely reward them well. Professor Vogelbaum would no doubt be delighted by Lin Mo's arrival.

Over the next few days, the number of tests rapidly increased.

Extreme cold.

Extreme heat.

Electric currents.

Blunt-force impacts.

Low-level radiation.

Experiments that would have killed an ordinary infant could do no real harm to Lin Mo.

But he carefully controlled his reactions throughout.

He cried when exposed to high temperatures, acted frightened when struck, and deliberately twitched his limbs when electricity coursed through his body.

He let Vought believe that, although his body was extraordinarily tough, he could still feel pain and fear.

An infant with absolute defense who retained normal emotional responses.

That served Vought's interests far better than an uncontrollable monster without weaknesses.

Several weeks later, Lin Mo received a new experimental designation.

SOL-0.

The name came from the researchers' preliminary assessment of his cellular energy structure.

They merely believed that his cells seemed capable of storing a special kind of radiant energy. Perhaps he would be able to project that energy someday, but for now, he was still very weak.

Lin Mo did not yet know why his number was zero rather than one.

Perhaps Vought did not consider him a formal project.

As his observation level rose, he gradually overheard more information.

Eventually, he also managed to sneak a look at the date in the researchers' logs about him.

August 17, 1980.

There were still nearly forty years before the main story of The Boys began.

Soldier Boy remained Vought's most influential superhero.

The Seven had yet to be founded.

Homelander had not been born.

Lin Mo's nerves gradually relaxed. What worried him most right now was Homelander's arrival, but apparently, Homelander had not even been born yet. That made things easier.

He still had time.

Plenty of time.

Given how fast Kryptonians developed, as long as he could get access to a yellow sun, he would eventually possess enough power to bring all of Vought crashing down. Homelander was nothing. When the time came, he would show him who really deserved that name.

There was no point in escaping now.

He could not speak or walk. He had no identity and no money.

Even if he left the laboratory, he could not survive on his own outside.

Besides, although Vought treated him as a test subject, it also provided the best medical care, nutrition, and protection.

Until he could truly defend himself, this was actually the safest place for him to grow.

The key was not to escape immediately, but to make Vought misjudge his rate of growth.

He had to be strong, but not strong enough to seem beyond their control.

He had to demonstrate value without frightening them into believing they needed to lock him away forever.

He needed to play the part of a successful test subject with limited abilities, slow development, and long-term research potential.

As for how difficult that performance would be...

Watching the young researcher leaning against the observation window, trying hard to make him laugh, Lin Mo felt a peculiar thought cross his mind.

Who would suspect that a baby who could barely roll over was deliberately deceiving the entire Vought Corporation?

Some time later, outside the laboratory, the white-haired researcher closed the latest report.

For the first time, Lin Mo's name appeared on its cover.

Carl Lin Mo.

For some reason, his name had barely changed, but Lin Mo did not particularly care. Once he could tell them his name was Lin Mo, would anyone really object?

Vogelbaum studied SOL-0's experimental data and asked the assistant beside him, "How are preparations for the surface transfer test coming along?"

"Everything is ready."

"Good."

"This infant..." He looked through the glass at the baby sleeping peacefully in the incubator.

"If his abilities really do respond to environmental radiation, we should have our answer tomorrow."

Lin Mo kept his eyes closed, pretending to be asleep, but his heart began to beat faster.

The surface. For the first time since the day he was born, he would finally experience the real sun again.