The circular hall on the second basement level was even colder than expected.
Simona had changed into a pair of flat-soled combat boots, which made dull thuds against the nonslip steel flooring. She raised a hand to straighten her coat collar, her gaze sweeping over the five thousand alloy injection pods arranged in neat rows. A dim green indicator glowed beside each pod. The people lying on them included men and women, young and old, all craning their necks, their faces pale.
"If I'd known, I never would've jumped at this bargain..."
A fat truck driver near the outer edge muttered under his breath, his thick fingers gripping the leather pad beneath him hard enough to deform it. "This place looks like a secret gas chamber from World War II, buddy. They really aren't going to slice us up?"
A young man in glasses beside him swallowed, his voice wavering. "Surely not... Times Square is packed with reporters outside. Even CNN's broadcast trucks are here. No matter how bold Vought International is, they wouldn't dare kill five thousand people in front of the whole world, would they?"
Despite those words, no one felt reassured as they looked at the Vought guards around them, wearing full-face gas masks and holding high-voltage stun guns. Most had watched the awakening documentary Simona released a few days earlier and rushed over to get a number in a moment of excitement. Only when they were actually lying on these cold metal frames, with icy metal rings locked around their wrists and ankles, did fear of the unknown human experiment crawl up their spines.
Unfortunately, once they were inside, regretting it was no longer an option.
"Attention, all subjects. Intravenous access has been established." Jade Balance's voice rang out over the broadcast system above the dome,