ONE PIECE: Phantom's Wake

SPIN-OFF CHAPTER #4

Facility X-92
Underground Sector 3
Code Designation: Project Revenant 017

**

She didn't remember her real name.

Not anymore. Not after years buried in that underground hell, where the scent of steel and antiseptic replaced fresh air, and silence echoed louder than screams. Names were luxuries-soft things, warm things. And warmth didn't exist on Floor B13.

The moment you descended into the lower levels of Facility X-92, your humanity was stripped as cleanly as your memories. No sunlight ever touched those corridors. No lullabies, no bedtime stories. Just cold lights that flickered with every passing tremor, and metal walls that heard everything but felt nothing.

If heaven was above, this place was the earth's broken core-forgotten, unforgiving.

Down there, you didn't grow up. You didn't live. You were engineered.

She wasn't a little girl anymore. She wasn't anyone. She was an asset. An experiment. A tool sharpened for a war she never asked to be part of.

Project Revenant 017.

That was her name now.

It was stitched into the back of her gray uniform in ink that never faded. Laser-etched into her ID chip. Whispered behind glass panels by white-coated men who never looked her in the eye-only at her vitals. Only at her data.

"017 is responding to the serum. Excellent."

"Boost the quirk limiter. She's beginning to adapt."

"She's not a little girl anymore. She's the prototype."

They spoke like she was a thing. A blueprint. Not flesh. Not feeling.

And some nights-when the silence was sharp enough to cut-she wondered if maybe they were right. Maybe she wasn't human anymore. Not after what they took from her. Not after what they made her do. Not after the screams of the other children faded into distant memories, or the blood on her hands washed away too easily.

She'd look into the cracked mirror of her containment room and stare at the empty face looking back.

No name. No past. No voice.

Just 017.

A ghost in the shell of a girl.

And still... somewhere, deep under all the scars and steel, a single ember burned. Weak, but defiant. A whisper in the dark.

"That's not who I am."

And someday, she would make them remember it too.

The days bled into each other. Fluorescent lights. Screaming alarms. Injections that made her muscles twitch and burn. Needles in her spine. Liquid fire in her veins.

Most of the other kids didn't last long.

AGE FIVE