NOVEL ONLINE FREE Chapter 8: Awakening
The lab lights were dim, casting pale reflections across the chrome and glass of the Clone Pod. Denji had been discussing optimization protocols with Jarvis when the soft ping of a system alert echoed from a nearby terminal.
[Clone-01 – Vital Signs Fluctuating: Subject Stirring.]
Jarvis's voice responded immediately.
[Sir. Subject One appears to be waking.]
Denji's red eyes lit with anticipation. He set down the holotab and straightened.
"Finally..." he murmured, pushing away from his seat. "Let's go meet him."
---
He woke with a gasp.
The thick gel inside the chamber slowly drained away as internal vents hissed open. His limbs twitched. Breath rasped past his throat. It felt like drowning and breathing at the same time.
He staggered forward, stumbling out of the pod, feet slapping against the cold metal floor. His hand instinctively grabbed the edge of the chamber for support. His skin was pale. His muscles lean but strong.
The world spun for a moment.
Then stabilized.
He looked around—blinking under the soft sterile lights. Transparent monitors hovered in the air. Machines hummed quietly. The lab was unfamiliar, but something in his gut said he'd seen pieces of it before.
Where am I? Why am I here? What is my... name?
A sound—a faint whoosh of a door opening.
He turned.
Standing just across the threshold, dressed in a dark fitted suit and carrying a faint smirk, was a young man with silver hair and crimson-red eyes.
Recognition came like lightning.
"…Denji?" He said, voice hoarse but steady.
The man smiled.
"How was your sleep, my old friend?"
He blinked. The confusion melted from his face, replaced with joy. "You're alive?" he said, almost laughing and then stepped forward, arms open.
He embraced Denji tightly.
"You're alive."
Denji hugged him back with a chuckle, then gently patted He's bare back.
"Hey man... I know you're happy, but could you, you know... get dressed and maybe take your dangling thing off me?"
He pulled away, eyes widening as he realized his complete lack of clothing. Face flushed, he backed up, muttering, "Sorry—yeah—right."
---
'Looks like it worked,' Denji thought, watching Steve stumble into the changing corner to throw on the Axiom-standard black suit.
He'd expected this level of familiarity. After all, he designed it into him.
The memories Denji implanted weren't just skillsets they were fragments of a shared past, curated carefully into the chip. According to the false memory file, Denji and Steve had been lifelong friends, teenagers who enlisted together in the final years of BnL's control on Earth. They fought side-by-side against the last remnants of old-world governments. Steve had 'died' during a rebel ambush in South Africa—or so Steve remembered.
To Steve, Denji the creator of this body.
He was Bucky of this world.
"How am I alive? What year is it? What happened to the rebels?" Steve blurted, stepping back into the room fully dressed, eyes wide.
Denji smiled and walked up to clap him on the shoulder. "One at a time, man. You've been out for a while. I'll explain everything."
---
Months Later
The low thump of fists echoed across the training bay.
Steve punched the bag again—and again. The old reinforced fabric burst open on the fourth strike. Sand spilled across the floor as the chain snapped, sending the 40-pound bag skidding across the room like paper.
He stood tall, chest heaving, muscles tense. Barefoot, shirtless, soaked in sweat.
He grabbed a towel from the rack and wiped his face.
The doors slid open behind him with a faint hiss.
Denji strolled in, slurping a two-flavor protein slushie. "Can't sleep?"
Steve caught the bottle Denji tossed without looking. "I slept for two hundred years," he replied. "I think I've had my fill."
Denji grinned. "Yeah, you're an old man now, aren't you?"
"Says who?" Steve shot back, twisting open the bottle and sipping. "Ugh. I still can't get used to these weird flavors."
"Don't worry," Denji said, leaning against the wall. "That might change when we land on Earth tomorrow."
Steve paused.
"I wish…"
---
The Next Day
The Captain's Room was quiet except for the subtle hum of data streams flowing through holo-panels. Screens floated above a circular desk, projecting charts, application logs, and faded satellite images of a planet.
Denji sat on the opposite end, dressed in the official Pioneer Candidate gear: black with silver trim his collar zipped up, VM watch glowing dimly on his wrist.
Across from him sat a round man in a blue captain's uniform—jowled, balding, eyes scanning Denji like a parent trying to size up a child who asked to go base-jumping.
"You sure about this, kid?" the captain asked. "Plenty of opportunity here. You could join Engineering. Bio-Sustainability. Even the Youth Council. Why go risk your neck on that radioactive graveyard?"
Denji leaned forward. "Because I believe Earth isn't just salvageable. It's vital. The longer we sit in this orbit eating slush and rewiring lounge chairs, the more we forget what it meant to live."
The Captain sighed. "You're well-spoken. But do you really think one pod, one kid, and two bots are enough to reclaim a planet?"
Denji opened his holotab and pressed play.
The trailer flickered on—a sequence of faded ruins, growing green life, buried memories, and quiet hope.
"This isn't just me, Captain. I've been preparing for years. I'm not going alone. And I'm not just bringing guns and bots. I'm bringing something humanity lost long ago."
The Captain raised a brow. "And what's that?"
Denji stared straight into his eyes.
"A second chance."
There was silence.
Then the Captain chuckled, slow and wheezy. He reached across the table and offered his hand.
"Fine. You want to be a Pioneer? Congratulations. Application approved."
Denji stood and shook his hand firmly.
"Thank you, sir."
The door hissed open behind him.
Denji turned and wheeled his holochair out of the room.
Once in the hallway, he stopped, raised his arm—and fist-pumped the air.
"YES!"