2025-12-21 04:36:41Ryker 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 encounter.”
Ryker said nothing. He didn’t deny it. He didn’t explain.
“I want you to return to Clark Industries,” Dr. Clark continued. “Immediately.”
Ryker scoffed. “And what exactly do you have that would make me do that?”
There was a pause. A deliberate one.
“Catalina,” Dr. Clark said.
The word froze Ryker in place. His fingers tightened around the phone, knuckles whitening. “Where is she?”
“Check your phone,” Dr. Clark replied.
The call ended.
Ryker stared at the screen for half a second before it refreshed on its own. A live video feed opened. Catalina lay asleep on a bed, her breathing slow and even. The room was clean, well-lit, nothing like the places Ryker had imagined in his worst moments. She shifted slightly in her sleep, unaware of the eyes watching her.
She was alive.
Ryker closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again. “Okay,” he said quietly.
That night, he returned to Clark Industries.
The building stood exactly as it always had—towering, polished, untouchable. Glass walls reflected the city lights, making it look less like a workplace and more like a monument to control. As Ryker approached the entrance, guards noticed him immediately. None raised a weapon. None spoke. They simply stepped aside, clearing a path as if they’d been expecting him all along. Fear lingered in their expressions, unhidden.
Inside, the elevator doors slid open at his approach. He stepped in alone. The ascent felt longer than it should have, the quiet broken only by the soft hum of machinery.
Top floor.
The doors opened.
Dr. Clark sat near the window, wine glass in hand, one leg crossed casually over the other. The city stretched clearly through his windows, distant and insignificant. He looked relaxed, comfortable, like a man who had never lost control of a situation in his life.
“Look who’s here,” Dr. Clark said. “I knew you had something in you. Probably just a late bloomer.”
“Where’s my sister?” Ryker asked.
“She’s fine,” Dr. Clark replied. “I adopted her. She lives in my house now. Safe.”
The word settled heavily in the air. Adopted.
“Now what do you want?” Ryker asked.
Dr. Clark gestured toward a chair. “Sit.”
Ryker didn’t move.
“I understand that you’re angry,” Dr. Clark said. “But things are different now. You have power. You can command respect.”
“Where is she?” Ryker repeated.
“She’s safe,” Dr. Clark said again. “As long as you cooperate.”
“I'm here now, what next?”
Dr. Clark chucked. “You need to go back to the lab. I'm curious to see why my systems didn't pick up any unusual activities with your DNA.”
Ryker exhaled slowly. “Then, take me to the lab.”
They went down together.
The lab doors sealed shut behind them with a familiar hiss. Bright lights flickered on overhead, revealing white walls, metal tables, and machines Ryker recognized instantly. Scientists moved quickly, eyes darting between screens and instruments. He was strapped to a steel bed, restraints locking firmly around his wrists and ankles.
Blood was drawn. Scans were run. Sensors attached. Hours passed as data streamed across monitors.
Finally, one of the scientists spoke. “Sir… his DNA is completely normal.”
Dr. Clark frowned. “Run it again.”
They did.
The result didn’t change.
“Again,” Dr. Clark ordered.
Still nothing. Just human.
“No mutation markers,” the scientist said quietly.
Dr. Clark stared at the screen. “That’s impossible.”
He turned away sharply. “Then we force it out.”
Ryker was unstrapped and dragged from the room, boots scraping against the floor. They took him deeper underground, past reinforced doors and concrete corridors. The air grew colder with every step.
They stopped at a sealed chamber.
Inside, something moved.
Dr. Clark’s voice echoed through speakers overhead. “Fight,” he said. “Or die.”
The gate lifted.
A chimera stepped forward. Massive. Misshapen. Gorilla arms fused with a bear’s head. Claws scraped against the concrete as it roared.
The gate slammed shut behind Ryker.
And the beast charged.
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CHAPTER 16: Dead Men Don't Answer
Ryker barely had time to turn before the man’s voice carried down the corridor, smooth and faintly impressed.“I didn’t think you’d be able to defeat my precious work.”Ryker stopped.The man with the scar stood a few paces away, hands folded behind his back, posture relaxed as if he were inspecting equipment rather than standing over the remains of a dismantled weapon. His eyes lingered briefly on his subject, then lifted to Ryker’s face.“But now that I’ve caught you,” the man went on, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “I’ll configure you to be my loyal dog.”Ryker said nothing. His chest rose and fell steadily, his senses still sharpened from the fight. “Since we’ve not been formally introduced,” the man said, inclining his head slightly, “I’m Dr. Stark Wilson.”The name settled into the air.At the same moment, Ryker’s system flashed fully into view.STATUS: STABLEMETA-NEUTRALIZATION: PARTIAL FAILUREHis eyes flicked briefly to the notification, then back to Stark. The
CHAPTER 15: God's Hands
The man with the scar didn't wait for an answer.“So,” he said lightly, already turning away, “I’ll leave the room to you two.”The door slid shut behind him with a dull metallic sound that lingered longer than it should have. The silence that followed was heavier than before, thick enough that The big man moved.He stepped forward in slow, measured strides, boots heavy against the floor. There was no rush in him, no wasted motion, no visible anger. Just intent. Ryker straightened, brushing his side once where the earlier blow had landed. The pain was there, dull and persistent, but manageable. He took a step back, eyes tracking the man’s movements, cataloging distance and angle the way instinct demanded.That was when he noticed it.At first, it was subtle. A faint distortion at the edge of his hearing, like static caught between stations. It grew sharper as the man came closer, a constant, unnatural hum that did not belong to muscle or breath or blood. Ryker’s brow furrowed as he
CHAPTER 14: Red In His Eyes
“There’s no way I’m leaving without you,” Ryker's voice thundered enough to rattle ears.Henry lay on the floor where he had fallen, one hand pressed uselessly against the metal band locked around his neck. The green light pulsed steadily.“Ryker,” Henry said, low. “Don’t be—”Ryker closed his eyes.The noise faded. The alarms, the shouting, the scrape of boots against concrete all dulled as his focus narrowed inward. He took a slow breath, felt it settle, and when he opened his eyes again, the system unfolded across his vision.Data scrolled clean and sharp.Armory access opened with a silent confirmation.Ryker filtered fast. Then he stopped.SHORT SWORD.He selected it without hesitation.Metal formed in his hand, solid and balanced, the weight familiar as it settled into his grip. He rolled his wrist once, feeling the edge align with his movement.Across the room, one of the men laughed.He had a long knife scar cutting from the corner of his mouth toward his ear, the skin pulled
CHAPTER 13: Extraction Point
Ryker slowed his steps as they moved deeper into the hideout, his hand lifting slightly to signal Henry to stop. The corridor ahead was narrow, lit by a single strip of flickering white light that buzzed faintly overhead.“We do this quietly,” Ryker said without turning his head. “As quietly as possible.”Henry walked beside him, hands loose at his sides, expression relaxed in a way that never meant what it looked like. “You keep saying that.”“I mean it,” Ryker replied. “Your power lights up rooms like fireworks.”Henry hummed. “Funny. Last time I checked, you were the one who jumped out of a chopper without a parachute.”“That was necessary.”“So is this,” Henry said lightly.Ryker stopped and held up a hand.Ahead of them, the hallway opened into a wider stretch. Light spilled out unevenly from overhead fixtures. Voices drifted through. Laughter. The scrape of metal on concrete.Ryker leaned just enough to see.Four guards clustered around a makeshift table. Cards scattered across
CHAPTER 12: Missile Lock
The rotors thudded overhead in a steady rhythm that sank into Ryker’s bones.The chopper cut through the clouds, metal humming beneath his boots, the cabin lit dimly by the glow of the interface screens lining the walls. Across from him, Henry lounged back in his seat, one leg stretched out, fingers drumming idly against the armrest.“You’re unusually quiet,” Henry said. “I don't think that's a good sign.”Ryker didn’t answer.He swiped the tablet dark and leaned his head back, eyes closing against the steady pulse of the rotors. The noise faded into something distant, like waves crashing far away.The memory came uninvited.His mother’s voice, tired but warm, calling his name from the kitchen. His sister sitting cross-legged on the floor, braiding scraps of string together and declaring it a crown. The cramped living room. The cracked walls. The laughter that had filled it anyway.They had been happy. It hit him hard enough to make his chest ache.Then the system screamed.WARNING.
CHAPTER 11: Before The Next Assignment
Ryker stepped out of Dr. Clark’s office with the tablet still glowing in his hand.The door slid shut behind him with a soft mechanical hiss. He didn’t slow. His eyes skimmed the screen as he walked, the familiar layout of mission data scrolling beneath his thumb. Coordinates. Timelines. Clearance codes. The kind of information that never surprised him anymore.The corridor stretched ahead, long and quiet, polished to the point where the lights above reflected faintly off the floor. His footsteps echoed back at him, measured and controlled. He welcomed the silence, as it gave him space to think.“Ryker.”The voice hit him hard enough to stop him mid-step.Not because it was loud. Because it was familiar.His grip tightened around the tablet before he turned. His stomach twisted, sharp and immediate, the kind of reaction that came from old instincts he’d never managed to bury. He turned slowly, already knowing who he would see.Damon stood a few paces away. He looked exactly the same.
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