RED ALERTBIO-CONTAINMENT BREACH — LAB 7SUBJECT 016: ORACLE
General William Stryker had just cleared the second checkpoint when the alarm screamed to life —a deep, grinding metallic wail.The kind you only heard when something had gone very wrong.
He didn't hesitate.
"Seal the blast doors!" he barked into the comm clipped to his chest."I want the entire level locked down — now!"
Two armed guards flanked him, pushing him toward the elevator platform. One of them — Ramirez, maybe — was limping. The other had blood spattered across his visor.
The walls behind them shook.Something roared.Low. Animalistic.Like steel being crushed under the weight of a nightmare.
Too fast.Too early.
Stryker stopped cold.
"Report," he snapped.
The voice that answered trembled.
"Sir — Lab 7's breached. Subject 016 is… he's—"
Static.Screaming.Silence.
Stryker's blood ran cold.
They'd run every test. Every scan. Every genetic trace.
The boy hadn't triggered a single X-Gene marker.No physical mutations.No psionic pulses.No combat viability.No confirmed abilities.
Except one: an uncanny knowledge of things no one should know.
They ran the tests a hundred times.Bloodwork. Scans. Psychic audits.
Every result:Null.Blank.Untouched.
And yet—
There were whispers. A theory.
That the boy — this quiet, broken thing strapped to their table — wasn't just a seer.He was something else.
A singularity in flesh.
They thought they were standing on the brink of something extraordinary:A mind that glimpsed the future.A consciousness unbound by time.A mutant so advanced, his gene could hide itself.
Some believed he wasn't a mutant at all.But the next phase of evolution.
A god in disguise.
"Is it a breakout?"
"No." Her voice cracked. "Sir… it's a massacre."
"We've lost all visuals in Lab 7," she said."Bioscans are fluctuating. We can't track him. Everyone inside…"
She hesitated.
"They're gone, sir."
"Define 'gone,'" Stryker said coldly.
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"Slaughtered."
He closed his eyes for half a second — just long enough to silence the voice in his head that said:This was always going to happen.
Then — calm. Sharp. Command mode:
"Scramble Rapid Response Teams Echo, Foxtrot, and Omega. Lock all facility exits. Gunships over every rooftop. Fire teams at every sewer junction. Ten minutes."
"But, sir—" Kelsey blinked.
"Containment is no longer an option."
He pulled a key from around his neck and slammed it into the console.
A hidden screen slid open.
COMMAND PRIORITY: ORACLE
LEVEL 10 EMERGENCY PROTOCOLCONTAINMENT FAILURE: CONFIRMEDSTATUS: HOSTILE TRANSFORMATION ENTITYCLASSIFICATION: UNKNOWNTHREAT LEVEL: KETER
PRIMARY OBJECTIVE: TERMINATE ORACLESECONDARY: MINIMIZE COLLATERALTERTIARY: SECURE REMAINS FOR RESEARCH
<< FILE UPDATE: SUBJECT 016 >>STATUS: UNKNOWNPOWER LEVEL: UNDEFINEDTHREAT DESIGNATION: PENDING
NOTES:ENTITY IS NOT ORACLE.
Kelsey paled.
"Sir, if he reaches the surface—"
"He's already there," Stryker snapped.
The building shook. A concussive boom rippled through its bones. Dust fell from the ceiling.
On one monitor — a single frame:
A figure ripping upward, claws tearing through concrete and steel, disappearing in a burst of light.
Aboveground.Free.
Stryker's jaw tightened.He leaned over the console, knuckles white.Voice low:
"I want live feed if he starts talking."
"Talking, sir?" Kelsey asked.
"If it's still him," Stryker muttered."I want to hear it speak."
[COMM LOG – OPERATION LIVEFEED START]
"Echo-One in position — east street. Visual contact. Target is stationary.""Foxtrot en route. Heavy armor and tranqs loaded.""Omega Air inbound. ETA: 60 seconds. Request permission to engage."
"Permission granted," Stryker said."You aim for the head."
The first chopper swooped in low between rooftops.Soldiers rappelled.Tactical vans screeched in. Steel doors opened like jaws.Riot squads spilled into formation, guns raised.
[CAMERA ONLINE][AUDIO LINK ESTABLISHED][TARGET LOCK: SUBJECT 016 – STATIONARY]
They screamed when they saw him.
Not because he moved.Not because he attacked.
Just because he existed.
Tendrils twitched behind him — slick with viscera.His claws dripped.Strands of intestine clung to his shoulder.
The air shimmered.Steam rose from flesh still knitting itself together.
A man dropped his coffee.A woman tripped over a stroller.Someone vomited.Someone else whispered "Mutant…" like a prayer.Or a curse.
Tristin didn't chase them.He didn't need to.
They ran from what they couldn't understand.
And Tristin?
He stood in it.
A shadow passed overhead.Then another.Then six.
Gunships.Choppers.Drones.
Stadium lights ignited.Laser sights painted his chest.
They brought everything.
Trucks roared in.Compressed gas hissed.Boots hit the pavement.Exo-suits snapped into full deployment.
Then—
A tranq round hit him in the ribs.
No reaction.
Then a second.A third.A fourth.
Still nothing.
Over loudspeaker:"STAND DOWN! DO NOT—"
Too late.
He moved.
A blur of flesh, blood, and something unholy.
A tendril pierced a soldier's hip, lifted him like a banner.
Another sliced through three mid-charge — strung together like meat on a hook.
He tore the arms off a man reaching for his rifle — bit into the neck, spat cartilage into another's face.
Another fell back, firing wildly —Tristin lunged.Landed on top.Crushed the helmet.Visor and brain exploded between his hands.
One ran.
Tristin tackled him.Bit through his spine.
No scream. Just crunch.
A tendril whipped a man into a van so hard it caved inward.
Another crushed a riot shield like foil.The man behind it didn't finish screaming.
Gunships banked left.Opened fire.
.50-cal explosive rounds tore through asphalt.
One hit Tristin's shoulder.Another blew through his thigh.
He stumbled.Pain. Real.
<< DAMAGE: CRITICAL >><< REGENERATION SEQUENCE: ONLINE >>
Flesh twisted.Bones snapped.The mask hissed steam.
He smiled.
Claws dug into a skyscraper.He climbed.Fast. Vertical.
A tendril latched to another rooftop —He swung.
Mid-air collision.
He crashed through the cockpit of a chopper.
The pilot vanished in red mist.
The gunner tried to scream.Tristin ripped off his jaw.Dropped him from 300 feet.
Didn't look back.
<< CORRUPTION: 87% >><< EMOTIONAL REPRESSION: OFFLINE >><< HOST RESPONSE: ENJOYS KILLING >>
He leapt again — claws sinking into a second helicopter.
A missile launched.
He absorbed the blast.Tendrils flared outward in smoke and meat.
He tore off the rotor.Spun it like a disc.Hurled it into the tail.
Debris rained down.
Tristin rode the shockwave.
<< HOST SENTIENCE: 6% >><< IDENTITY STABILITY: COLLAPSING >><< EMERGENCY PHASE TRIGGER INBOUND >>
He landed.Ground cratered.A car flipped.Glass shattered.
Two squads opened fire.
Bullets tore into him —Across the jaw.Through the ribs.
He charged.
Grabbed one man — crushed his skull.
Another raised a flamethrower—
Tristin tackled him.Bit through his chest.Fed.
<< HOST SENTIENCE: 2% >><< CONSCIOUSNESS SHUTDOWN IMMINENT >><< EMERGENCY TELEPORTATION INITIATED >>
[COUNTDOWN…] 3… 2… 1…
The wind died.
Color peeled away.
No light.No portal.No scream.
Then—
Gone.
The room went still.
On the last monitor — a frozen image:
Mask cracked.Blood leaking from one eye.Teeth bared in something like a smile…
<< LIVE FEED TERMINATED >>
Kelsey whispered, "Sir… where did he go?"
Stryker didn't answer.
He just stared.And muttered:
"Wherever he is now…God help whoever finds him."