2025-12-21 04:48:28The 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 the entrance, arms crossed, chewing on nothing. His eyes were sharp, restless, always calculating angles no one else noticed. He looked Ryker up and down slowly, openly, then smiled.
A crooked smile. Unstable. Dangerous.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Henry said. “Two days and you bulk up like that?”
Ryker didn’t stop walking. “Hey.”
Henry pushed off the wall and fell into step beside him, close enough that the heat of his body was noticeable. Not normal heat. Something deeper. Something that hummed just beneath the skin.
“You’re colder,” Henry said. “Did they freeze your heart out there too?”
Ryker didn’t answer.
Henry reached out and grabbed his wrist, fingers tightening fast, testing reflex, pressure, response.
“I’m talking to you,” Henry said, voice dropping. “Don’t walk away from me.”
Ryker turned.
No fear.
Not even irritation.
Just calm—the kind of calm that didn’t ask permission to exist.
Henry felt it immediately. His grip loosened without him realizing why. Something primal flickered in his eyes. Recognition without understanding.
“I heard what you did at Rhoza,” Henry continued, covering it with a grin. “Pretty impressive. I want to see it myself.”
Ryker shook his head once. “What do you want?”
“A spar,” Henry said easily. “After you see the boss.”
Ryker considered it. Not long. Not deeply.
“Okay.”
Henry’s grin widened, sharper now. “That’s my boy. I’ll call Tony and Klause. Should be fun.”
The elevator doors slid open.
Ryker stepped inside alone. The doors closed. The ascent was silent except for the hum of machinery and his own steady breathing. The mirrored walls reflected him back at himself. He barely recognized the man staring out. Same face. Different Presence. Like something had finally settled into place behind his eyes.
The doors opened again.
Dr. Clark was already waiting.
He stood behind his desk, hands clasped, posture relaxed, eyes bright with something close to reverence. Not awe. Interest. The interest of a man watching a theory refuse to behave.
“Incredible,” Clark said. “Absolutely incredible.”
He circled Ryker slowly, measured steps, like a curator examining a piece that should not exist.
“Your muscle density,” he continued. “Your posture. Your recovery rate. Two days should not be enough to cause this level of hypertrophy. Not naturally. Not artificially.”
Ryker said nothing.
“You are the one subject I cannot understand,” Clark said, smiling thinly. “Tell me—how does it feel to defy expectation?”
Ryker met his gaze. “I don’t know how it works.”
A half-truth.
The system stayed silent. No prompts. No suggestions. Just watching.
Clark studied him for a long moment, eyes narrowing just slightly, then stepped back.
“Go,” he said. “Rest. You’ve earned it.”
Ryker turned and left.
He had decided not to fight Henry. He didn’t need to prove anything.
The elevator carried him back down. Doors opened. He stepped out, already planning the quiet path out of the building.
“Don’t tell me you’re running,” Henry’s voice called from behind. “A real man keeps his word.”
Ryker stopped. The hallway felt smaller suddenly. Then he turned around.
The gym was underground. Wide. Reinforced. Designed for damage. Thick walls. Cracked floors that never fully got repaired. Old scorch marks clung to the corners like memories no one bothered to erase.
Tony leaned against the wall, silent, eyes sharp and unreadable. He watched Ryker the way predators watched weather. Klause sat on a bench nearby, clapping slowly, delighted by the tension.
“What a glorious get-together,” Klause said.
Ryker stepped onto the stage.
Henry followed, rolling his shoulders. Heat bled from his skin now, subtle at first, then undeniable. The air around him shimmered faintly.
“Rules?” Henry asked.
Ryker shook his head.
Henry laughed. “Good.”
The air warped.
The floor beneath Henry’s feet glowed red. Then orange. Heat surged outward in a slow, confident wave. Metal groaned. The mat blistered and split.
“Magma,” Henry said casually. “Anything I touch becomes it.”
He stepped forward.
Ryker’s vision flickered.
ARMORY AVAILABLE
The dagger formed in his hand—a simple black metal.
Henry snorted. “You brought a knife?”
Ryker didn’t respond.
Henry lunged.
The ground erupted where his foot landed. Lava sprayed upward, hissing. Ryker moved—fast, precise—skimming past the heat by inches. His boots barely touched the ground. He slid low, blade flashing.
Henry twisted, a molten fist crashing down where Ryker had been. The impact split the stage. Chunks of glowing stone flew outward.
Ryker came up inside Henry’s guard.
The dagger kissed Henry’s cheek.
Just once. Blood beaded.
Henry froze.
His smile vanished. The room went silent.
Tony straightened. Klause stopped clapping.
Henry touched his face. Looked at the blood on his fingers. Red against molten orange.
Then he laughed.
“Oh,” he said softly. “So you do bite.”
The fight exploded.
Magma surged in waves, tearing up the floor, climbing the walls. Ryker moved through it, skin blistering, healing, blistering again. Pain flared and vanished. He struck when openings appeared. Henry adapted instantly—too fast—turning the floor, the air, even fragments of shattered cover into weapons.
A molten chain formed mid-air, wrapped Ryker’s arm, and slammed him into the wall hard enough to crater it.
He tore free. Rolled. Came up coughing smoke, chest burning.
Henry was relentless.
Every strike carried weight. Experience. Control. No wasted motion. No rage. Just enjoyment.
Ryker felt his points climbing. Felt the system urging him forward. Offering shortcuts. Power spikes. Overkill.
He ignored it.
Henry caught him mid-step.
A magma-coated elbow crushed into Ryker’s ribs. Something cracked. Ryker hit the ground hard, breath knocked from him.
Henry loomed over him, fist raised, heat roaring like a furnace.
Then he stopped.
Laughed.
“Been a long time,” Henry said, lowering his arm, “since I enjoyed myself like this.”
He stepped back.
Turned. And walked away.
No victory pose. No explanation.
Ryker lay there, breathing hard. Blood spread across the floor beneath him.
The system stayed silent.
A new image surfaced in his mind.
A woman. Different clothes. Different time. Standing in firelight. Armor instead of fabric. A smile that carried history. Recognition. Loss.
She looked at him like she had always known him.
The memory faded.
Ryker stared at the ceiling, chest rising and falling slowly.
“What is going on with me?”
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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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