The waves crashed violently against the ashen-black sands of Blackthorn Isle, their frothing edges licking at the limp body sprawled near the shore. The tide had been relentless, dragging him in and out like a toy caught in nature's cruel amusement.
Darian Volkov stirred, coughing up a lungful of salt and blood, his body aching, battered, broken. The air was thick with the scent of brine, decay, and something metallic—iron-rich and old, lingering in the wind.
He pushed himself up on trembling arms, fingers digging into the wet sand. His uniform was torn, soaked, the once-pristine insignia of Echelon Prime barely visible beneath the grime. His hair clung to his forehead in slick strands, his left eye swollen nearly shut from the impact of whatever had sent him into the sea.
He staggered forward, feet sinking into the cold sand with each agonizing step. Further inland, jagged cliffs of obsidian rock loomed over him like silent sentinels. The dense jungle beyond was dark, its canopy thick with vines and blood-colored blossoms, their petals trembling ever so slightly—alive with things unseen.
A structure jutted out from the cliffs ahead, built into the very bones of the island. The Echelon Prime outpost was a monolith of black steel and reinforced concrete, its sharp edges a stark contrast to the raw, untamed wilderness surrounding it. No windows. No warmth. Only function.
The doors loomed tall before him, scanning his presence long before he could reach them. With a low mechanical hiss, they slid open, revealing the dimly lit corridor beyond.
And there she stood. Leaning casually against the frame, arms crossed over a slim, armored torso, was Valaine Knox—a woman as sharp as the blades she carried, as cold as the steel she served. Her platinum hair was pulled into a tight braid, a single scar carving through her high cheekbone. She tilted her head, smirking. "So, you failed, Colonel?"
The words dripped from her lips like venom, her tone a mockery wrapped in silk. Her eyes, sharp and knowing, flickered over his ruined state, assessing, dissecting, savoring. But he keep moving, inside.
The air inside Blackthorn Outpost was heavy with the scent of oil, metal, and something acrid—like burnt ozone. The corridor pulsed with the soft hum of hidden machinery, walls lined with reinforced steel, each step echoing ominously as Darian Volkov and Valaine Knox strode deeper into the facility.
A cavernous space stretched before them, the ceiling arched impossibly high, ribbed with networks of thick cables that snaked down like mechanical veins. At its center stood a monolithic machine, its design both alien and industrial—an intricate fusion of black alloy plating, glowing crimson conduits, and a central core that pulsed like a beating heart.
Towering nearly four stories high, its spine-like frame connected to an array of turbine engines, each lined with spiked energy coils that crackled faintly with contained power. At the machine's core, a cylindrical chamber pulsed with a lurid, bio-luminescent green light, filled with an opaque liquid that shifted and writhed as though something lived within. A voice echoed through the chamber, smooth and precise. "Magnificent, isn't it?"
Dr. Hideo Yamazaki emerged from the shadows, his lab coat pristine despite the dim surroundings. His thin-rimmed glasses reflected the glow of the machine, hiding the sharp intelligence gleaming beneath. His movements were measured, each step calculated as he approached the behemoth before them. "This," he gestured grandly, "is the Genesis Engine."
Darian remained silent, his sharp eyes locked onto the machine. Valaine, however, arched a brow. "And what, exactly, does it 'generate'?" she asked, crossing her arms.
Yamazaki's lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. "Evolution."
With the press of a button on his wrist-mounted console, the Genesis Engine came to life.
A low, resonant hum filled the chamber, growing into a deep vibrational pulse that rattled the very air. The liquid in the core bubbled violently, shifting colors between green, violet, and crimson as the turbines above spun with an otherworldly force.
"Mutosterone," Yamazaki continued, his voice reverent. "The very essence that separates mutants from humans. Most people assume you're either born with the 'X-factor' or you're not. But my research…" He turned, eyes glinting with pride. "...has proven otherwise."
He tapped the control panel beside him, and holographic projections materialized—displaying genetic sequences, hormonal fluctuations, and medical charts filled with arcane scientific notations. "Almost every human carries traces of mutosterone within their hormones," he explained. "For some, it's negligible, dormant, never manifesting in any visible mutation. But with the right catalyst…"
He gestured at the Genesis Engine. "This machine triggers it."
Darian frowned. "So, what? You flip a switch, and humans start mutating?"
Yamazaki's smile widened. "Precisely. Given even the smallest trace of mutosterone in their system, this machine can force a full mutation within seconds."
Valaine let out a slow whistle. "And if they don't have any?"
"They die." Yamazaki continued, unbothered by their reactions. "My plan is to launch the first field test in Wyndmoor, a quaint little town nestled beneath the eastern mountains. Its isolation makes it ideal—few CPG patrols, no immediate government oversight."
A holographic map flickered to life, showing Wyndmoor's layout—a small town of cobblestone streets, aging architecture, and dense woodland perimeters. "Our operative will deploy the Genesis Engine at the town's water reservoir," Yamazaki explained. "From there, it will release an airborne dispersion of the mutosterone catalyst, spreading through the town's water supply and natural ecosystem. Within hours, Wyndmoor's entire population will either mutate… or perish."
Valaine chuckled darkly, running a hand through her platinum braid. "And then what? Let them tear each other apart?"
"Exactly." Yamazaki's gaze burned with cold, scientific hunger. "Once we ignite a war between newly mutated civilians and the remaining humans, we sit back and watch as the flames spread." He adjusted his glasses. "By the time the world realizes what's happening, it will be too late. The age of humanity will crumble. And from its ashes, a new era will begin."
The corner of Darian's lips curled into a smirk. He exhaled slowly, staring at the Genesis Engine like a warrior admiring a well-crafted blade. "Then let's launch it," he said, his voice smooth, confident—unshaken by the monstrous plan unfolding before him.
Beside him, Valaine chuckled—a soft, sultry sound laced with amusement. She stepped closer, her platinum hair catching the glow of the machine's core as she leaned in, brushing her lips against Darian's cheek. "Let's do it, Colonel," she whispered, her voice a purr of anticipation.
Dr. Yamazaki, ever composed, nodded in satisfaction. He turned to the gathered Echelon Prime soldiers, their midnight-black combat suits reflecting the crimson glow of the chamber. "You heard him," Yamazaki commanded, his voice sharp as steel. "Deploy the Genesis Engine."
The soldiers snapped into action. Four heavily armored operatives moved in unison, locking reinforced clamps onto the machine's spine-like frame. A mechanical hiss filled the room as the clamps engaged, stabilizing the weight before a series of hydraulic lifts hoisted the Genesis Engine off the platform.
The massive machine hovered, guided carefully by the operatives as they maneuvered it toward the waiting aircraft—a sleek Echelon-class stealth jet, its matte-black hull adorned with the sigil of Echelon Prime.
The jet's cargo bay doors yawned open, revealing an interior lined with stasis locks and stabilizers, designed to keep the Genesis Engine secured during flight.
One by one, the soldiers fastened the machine into position, ensuring it remained perfectly stable.
Dr. Yamazaki watched with sharp eyes, his hands clasped behind his back as the final checks were made.
Darian stepped forward, standing at the edge of the launch bay, watching as the shadows of the night swallowed the jet whole.
The Echelon-class stealth jet cut through the sky, silent as a shadow, its sleek black frame disappearing into the night. Inside the dimly lit cockpit, the pilot's voice crackled through the comms. "Approaching drop zone. Five minutes to deployment."
Darian Volkov stood near the cargo bay doors, eyes locked onto the town below. From this altitude, Wyndmoor looked small, fragile—a collection of scattered lights nestled beneath the looming mountains. A perfect target. A perfect beginning.
Behind him, Dr. Hideo Yamazaki adjusted his gloves, his expression unreadable as he performed one last check on the Genesis Engine. Its pulsating core, encased in dark steel plating, throbbed like a living heart, waiting to be unleashed.
Valaine leaned against the bulkhead, arms crossed, her silver eyes gleaming with dark amusement. "Three days," she mused. "That's all it takes to birth a new race."
Darian smirked. "Then let's get started."
The jet descended, hovering just above the outskirts of town. Below, Wyndmoor lay silent—cobblestone streets deserted, homes bathed in the glow of oil lamps. This was a town forgotten by the world, untouched by war, ignored by the Capitol Patrol Guard. "Deploying the Genesis Engine."
With a metallic groan, the bay doors slid open. Hydraulic clamps released, and the Genesis Engine descended from the jet, suspended by reinforced cables. The soldiers moved quickly, stabilizing the machine on the ground, their black armor blending into the darkness.
Yamazaki approached the terminal panel, fingers dancing over holographic keys as the system hummed to life. Ancient symbols flickered across the interface, a language only he understood.
He turned to Darian, his voice calm, almost reverent. "Shall we begin?"
Darian gave a single nod. "Do it."
Yamazaki pressed the final command. A low, guttural hum reverberated through the night. The Genesis Engine shuddered, its core pulsing crimson as it came alive. Then, with a sharp mechanical whine—It activated.
A sudden shockwave rippled through the air, an invisible force expanding outward in all directions. The earth trembled beneath them as crimson mist erupted from the machine, surging through the streets like living smoke.
At first, silence. Then, the screams began. The mist snaked through alleys, slipped beneath doors, coiled into homes. Those caught in its grasp gasped, choked—coughing violently as their lungs burned. Some collapsed instantly, writhing in agony as blood streamed from their noses and mouths. Others fell still, lifeless before they hit the ground. And then, the cocoons appeared.
Bodies convulsed, skin splitting open as tendrils of organic matter wrapped around them. The mist fed the transformation, weaving its victims into grotesque, pulsating cocoons that clung to walls, lamp posts, doorways—anywhere the mist could reach. The town fell into chaos.
Survivors ran, screaming into the night. Parents dragged their children away, their sobs drowned out by the shrieks of the dying. Some tried to fight back, wielding weapons, but the mist swallowed them whole.
Valaine watched from above, a delighted smile playing on her lips. "Beautiful," she whispered.
Darian folded his arms, eyes gleaming as he observed the scene. No patrols. No resistance. The Capitol Patrol Guard had ignored this town for years. Now, they would regret it.
Yamazaki turned away from the carnage, his gaze locked onto the cocoons. They pulsed, shuddered—alive. "They will hatch in three days," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. "And when they do…"
Darian exhaled, watching as the first light of dawn touched the distant peaks. "We'll have an army."