Ryker Vale walked toward school with his hood pulled low.The fabric clung to the back of his neck, damp from the rainfall of the previous day. His shoulders curved forward, not from fatigue, but from habit. Standing straight invites attention. Attention always comes with a cost.His eyes stayed on the pavement. Cracks passed beneath his feet in uneven lines. He followed them without thinking, in a constant rhythm. Rhythm that kept his thoughts from drifting to places he didn’t like. Thinking about where he was going made it easier not to think about where he was.Traffic hissed beside him, tires cutting through wet streets. Towers loomed overhead, their walls alive with shifting screens—ads for luxury housing, genetic upgrades, private academies. Futures he would never touch. Students moved in clusters, loud and careless, bumping shoulders, laughing too hard.Ryker moved through them without friction. No one made space for him, no one pushed him either. Being ignored was cleaner.A f

Ryker braced himself and measured his voice before he spoke.“Who am I speaking with?” he asked.A man’s voice responded smoothly, without hesitation. “Dr. Victor Clark.”Ryker felt his chest tighten instantly, a pressure forming just beneath his ribs. The name carried weight—years of it. Clark Industries. The company that had promised salvation and delivered a cage instead. Two years of experiments, injections, machines humming over his body, scientists watching him like a broken specimen. Two years of false hope. Two years without pay, without answers, without mercy.“The same Dr. Clark who runs Clark Industries?” Ryker asked.“The very same,” the voice replied.Ryker’s jaw tightened. “Why are you calling me?”“Because,” Dr. Clark said calmly, “I have something you want. And you have something I need.”Ryker let out a slow breath through his nose. “What do you think I want?”“I saw everything you did,” Dr. Clark replied. “My special operatives. Their body cams captured the entire en

Ryker woke up suspended in liquid. Cold pressed against his skin from every direction. Thick. Heavy. It filled his mouth, his nose, his ears. His chest tightened before he understood why—something had been forced between his lips, a tube driven deep, feeding air directly into his lungs. He tried to gasp and couldn’t. Panic flared, sharp and violent, then stalled when his body realized breathing was being handled for him.When he opened his eyes. Blurred shapes hovered beyond curved glass. White coats. Masks. Hands moving with careful speed. Lights blinked in sterile patterns. Voices existed, but only as vibration, muted and distant, like sound heard through stone.He turned his head a fraction.Pain didn’t follow. That was strange. His body felt numb, suspended, unreal.Scientists stood nearby, watching him like a problem that had finally reacted. Not with concern or relief, but with interest.One of them noticed his eyes. Everything shifted.Notes dropped. Screens went dark. Hands pu

The chopper touched down hard on the roof of Clark Industries.Wind tore across the platform. Rotors screamed like something alive and angry. Ryker stepped out without hesitation. Two days ago, he had left this place as cargo. Now, eyes followed him.Not curiosity. Assessment.Workers paused mid-step. Guards straightened without being told. Scientists stopped, pretending to stare at their tablets. Something about him felt off. Wrong in a way no chart explained. His frame was broader. Not bulky, not exaggerated. Dense. Compact. His posture had settled differently, like his bones had finally agreed on their purpose.Ryker felt it too.The world no longer pressed in on him. It no longer felt heavier than it should.His boots hit the concrete with a weight that carried authority, even if he didn’t try to claim it. He moved forward, unhurried, and the crowd parted a fraction too late, like animals reacting after the presence was already past them.Henry was leaning against the wall near th

The beast stood in the middle of his living room. Too large for the space. Too real for logic.Its four heads hung from a thick, corded neck, each one different. One hissed. One growled low. One breathed slowly and measured. The last grinned, lips pulled back over too many teeth.Cracked tiles bent under its weight. The floor had already begun to cave. Framed photos lay shattered beneath its claws. The couch sagged, half-melted, half-crushed, like the room itself had tried to escape and failed.Ryker stood near the doorway, shoulders squared, heart beating too loud in his ears. His body knew before his mind accepted it.This thing was not meant to exist here.“I guess you’re one of Clark’s experiments,” Ryker said. His voice didn’t shake, though pressure crawled up his spine, cold and invasive. “What should I call you before I kill you?”The beast went still.All four heads stopped moving at once.No breath. No sound.The silence pressed down harder than the noise had. It lasted half a