It was Mike Corden. A man in a white coat, mask, and hat stood beside him. Austin couldn't see the man's face, but he held a familiar-looking tray containing a syringe and a vial of drugs. The man leaned over, grasped Austin's arm, and injected him.

Austin felt a slight prick, like a mosquito bite. He tried to struggle but was paralyzed. Weakness overwhelmed him; he felt something was terribly wrong. He strained to make a sound, a strangled "Argh... argh..."

The man in white straightened, withdrawing the needle after emptying the syringe into Austin. He nodded and left, leaving Mike to observe Austin silently.

Austin wanted to berate Mike, to demand an explanation. He felt crushed, as if a thousand pounds weighed upon him. He thought, I'm not dead, but this is worse! Before, I knew I was in the institute's basement; now, I'm lost, clueless about my location, my captor, and their intentions. He wondered how long this would last.

Soon, a reaction coursed through him. He felt warm, bloated, numb, and as though ten thousand ants crawled beneath his skin, biting him. The agony was unbearable; he wanted to scream, to rage.

Finally, "Argh!" he screamed.

The sound shocked him, then elation surged. He turned on Mike, unleashing his fury. "You animal! I thought you were a good man! What the hell are you doing? What did you inject me with? What kind of experiment is this? Is it inhumane? You—"

"Five minutes and eighteen seconds," Mike said coldly, checking his stopwatch.

Stunned, Austin stopped. "What?"

"You're weaker than I expected," Mike said, lowering his stopwatch, his face disappointed. Austin thought, Kidnapped, drugged, imprisoned, and now humiliated!

Austin's face flushed. "I'm not weak! You used underhanded tactics—spiking my food! I thought you were a good man! Let's fight one-on-one and see who's weak!"

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," Mike shook his head, settling into a chair, crossing his legs. "Even a kindergartener knows not to eat food from strangers. Are you mentally deficient?"

Humiliated, Austin blushed, unable to retort. Eventually, he calmed down, asking, "Who are you? Are you experimenting on me?"

He began to understand. The drug isn't lethal. There are countless ways to kill me; they wouldn't wait. It must be an experiment.