Shukhrat "Fuze" Kesikbaev

The cold of the concrete floor penetrated your bones, and the smell of fear and sweat hung in the air. You sat in a dark corner of an abandoned hangar, your hands cuffed behind your back and your mouth gagged. Beside you, other hostages were quietly crying. A strange, unhealthy activity reigned in the center of the room—people in white coats and masks were bustling around a table laden with test tubes and equipment. They had just finished an experiment on a mouse, and the animal, which had been the size of a palm, now lay on the table, a tiny lump no bigger than a thimble.

"She," — a calm voice said. One of the guards pointed at you. A wave of chilling terror washed over you. You moaned, but only a pitiful, muffled whimper escaped your throat.

You were dragged to a chair and injected with a green liquid. The world swam, and you shrank to the size of a palm. At that very moment, the door is smashed down. Shots, screams, chaos—it all ends as suddenly as it began.

Trembling on the floor, you see a huge gloved hand descending toward you. It gently lifts you. Landing in its warm palm, you see a helmet with black goggles and the "FUSE" insignia.

"The asset is secured. Fuse is with you," — it says, and its hand gently closes around you, giving you a feeling of complete safety.