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, very wrong.
He didn't hesitate.
"Seal the blast doors!" he barked into the comms clipped to his chest. "I want the entire level locked down — now!"
A pair of armed guards flanked him, pushing him through the side corridor 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.
He stopped cold.
"Report," he snapped into his comm.
The voice that came back was shaking.
"Sir, Lab 7 has been 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 for that uncanny knowledge of things he shouldn't have known.
They had run the tests a hundred times.
Bloodwork. Scans. Psychic audits.
Each result came back the same:
Blank. Null. Untouched.
And yet—
There was always a whisper. A theory.
That this boy—this quiet, broken thing strapped to their table—was not just a seer.
He was something else.
A singularity in flesh.
They thought they were on the brink of something extraordinary:
A mind that glimpsed the future.
A consciousness unbound by time or linear thought.
A mutant so advanced… his X-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 on 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 half. Long enough to steady the voice in his head telling him this was always going to happen.
Then he spoke — calm, sharp, command mode activated.
"Scramble Rapid Response Team Echo, Foxtrot, and Omega. Lock all facility exits. I want gunships over every roof and fire teams at every sewer junction within the next 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 command console. A hidden screen flipped open. The override.
COMMAND PRIORITY: ORACLE
LEVEL 10 EMERGENCY PROTOCOL
ACTIVECONTAINMENT FAILURE
CONFIRMEDSTATUS: HOSTILE TRANSFORMATIONENTITY
CLASSIFICATION: UNKNOWNTHREAT LEVEL
KETERPRIMARY OBJECTIVE: TERMINATE ORACLE
SECONDARY: MINIMIZE COLLATERALTERTIARY: SECURE REMAINS FOR RESEARCH
<< FILE UPDATE: SUBJECT 016 >>STATUS: UNKNOWNPOWER LEVEL
UNDEFINEDTHREAT DESIGNATION: PENDINGNOTES
ENTITY IS NOT ORACLE
Kelsey paled. "Sir, if he reaches the surface—"
"He's already there," Stryker snapped.
The building shuddered again. A violent boom rippled through the facility's bones. Dust fell from the ceiling.
On one of the monitors, they caught just a glimpse — a figure tearing upward, claws ripping through concrete and steel, vanishing in a burst of light.
Aboveground.
Free.
Stryker's jaw tensed.
He leaned forward, hands gripping the edge of the console, and issued one final command.
He paused.
"I want live feed if he starts talking."
"Talking, sir?" Kelsey asked.
"If it's still him," Stryker said. "I want to hear it speak."
Comms erupted to life — overlapping reports:
"This is Echo-One, in position, east street approach. Visual contact—target is stationary.""Foxtrot en route. Heavy armor, tranq ordinance locked and loaded.""Omega Air Division inbound — ETA sixty seconds. Permission to engage?"
"Permission granted," Stryker snapped. "You aim for the head."
On-screen, the first chopper swooped in — a low, fast descent between rooftops. Soldiers rappelled onto the surrounding structures. Tactical vans screeched to a halt, steel-plated doors opening like jaws.
Stryker watched through drone feed as armored figures spread out, guns raised.
"Engage. Now."
[CAMERA STABILIZED][AUDIO LINK ESTABLISHED][TARGET LOCK: SUBJECT 016 – Stationary]
They screamed when they saw him.
Not because he moved.Not because he threatened.Just because he existed.
Tendrils twitched behind him, dripping with viscera. His claws gleamed wet. Bits of someone's intestines clung to his shoulder. The air around him shimmered — steam rising from muscle still knitting itself together.
A man dropped his coffee.A woman tripped over a stroller.Someone retched.Another just whispered, "Mutant…" like it was a prayer. Or a curse.
He didn't chase them.
He didn't need to.
They ran from what they didn't understand.
And Tristin?
He stood in it.
A shadow passed over him.Then another.Then six.
Choppers. Gunships. Drones.
Stadium lights bathed the street.Laser sights painted his chest.
They brought everything.
Riot trucks roared in.Compressed gas hissed from launchers.Boots slammed into the pavement.Soldiers in exo-armor deployed, snapping into a full perimeter like a closing
Tristin turned his head just as the first tranq round hit him square in the ribs.
No reaction.
The second hit — then a third — a fourth.
Still nothing.
Over the loudspeaker, a voice barked:
"STAND DOWN! DO NOT—"
Too late.
He moved before the sound finished.
A blur of flesh, blood, and something unholy.
One tendril punched through a soldier's hip, lifting him like a banner.Another spun through the air — pierced three more mid-charge, stringing them together like meat on a hook.
Claws flashed.
One soldier raised his rifle—
He tore the arms off a man trying to raise his rifle, bit into the exposed neck, ripped, and spat cartilage into another's face.
Another fell backward, firing wild—
Tristin lunged, landed on top, and crushed the helmet in both hands, brain and visor exploding between his palms.
Another ran.
Tristin tackled him.
Bit through his spine.
No scream. Just crunch.
Bone cracked.
The scream never finished.
One tendril pierced a soldier through the hip — spun him like a ragdoll, then snapped him against the side of a vehicle so hard it caved inward.
Another tendril coiled around a riot shield—Crushed it like a soda can.The man behind it screamed. Didn't finish.
Choppers banked left and climbed.
The first opened fire — .50-cal explosive rounds ripped through the street.
One hit his shoulder — tore it open.
Another smashed through his thigh.
He stumbled.
Pain. Real pain.
<< DAMAGE: CRITICAL >><< REGENERATION SEQUENCE: ONLINE >>
His breath hitched. The mask hissed steam.Flesh twisted. Bones snapped back into place.
He smiled.
Claws dug into the side of a glass tower —Vertical ascent. No hesitation. No fear.
A tendril shot across the street, latched to a rooftop.He swung, gaining speed.
Hit the first helicopter mid-air.
Glass shattered.He came down feet-first, straight through the cockpit.The pilot exploded into red mist.The gunner tried to scream—Tristin grabbed him by the jaw.Tore it off.Dropped the twitching body from 300 feet.
Didn't look back.
<< CORRUPTION: 87% >><< EMOTIONAL REPRESSION: OFFLINE >><< HOST RESPONSE: ENJOYS KILLING >>
He vaulted mid-air —Claws sinking into the next chopper's underbelly.
A missile launched.
He twisted —Tendrils absorbed the blast, blew outward in a plume of smoke and meat.
He launched up again —Ripped the rotor off with a single motion.
Spun it like a disc, hurled it into the tail.
Debris rained down.
Tristin surfed the shockwave.
<< HOST SENTIENCE: 6% >><< IDENTITY STABILITY: COLLAPSING >><< EMERGENCY PHASE TRIGGER INBOUND >>
He dropped to the ground.
Pavement cratered beneath him.
A car flipped sideways from the impact.Glass shattered.
Two squads opened fire.
Bullets ripped into him — one across his jaw, another through his side.
He charged.
Grabbed one man. Crushed his skull in one hand.
Another raised a flamethrower—
Tristin tackled him.Bit through his chest.Fed.
<< HOST SENTIENCE: 2% >><< CONSCIOUSNESS SHUTDOWN IMMINENT >><< EMERGENCY PHASE TELEPORTATION INITIATED >>
[COUNTDOWN…]3…2…1…
The wind died.
Color peeled away like burning film.
There was no light.
No portal.
No scream.
Then—
He was gone.
The room was silent.
On the last screen — frozen
Mask cracked.
Blood trailing from one eye.
Teeth bared in something that looked 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."