SILVER SECRET RESEARCH CENTER – SOUTHERN STATES
The sunlight poured through the tall windows like liquid fire.
"Oh, man. The sun is so freaking bright here," muttered a blond-haired man in a lab coat, shielding his eyes with the back of his hand as he looked out over the jagged ridges of Calgig's Mountain.
"What did you expect?" said another scientist, lighting a cigarette. "We're sixty meters up on one of the highest peaks in the Southern States."
He held out the metal cigarette case. "Here, Charles."
Charles turned away from the window, waving the offer off. "No thanks," he said curtly.
Crossing the room, he picked up a remote from the glass table and pressed a button. The automated curtains slid shut with a soft hum, plunging the room into a comfortable dimness.
Charles took a seat behind the desk, his expression hardening. "What's the success rate of this one?" His voice was cold, clinical.
The other scientist—William—tilted his head. "Honestly? We can't say."
Charles raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
"His reports are never stable," William replied, exhaling smoke. "Some nights, it looks like he won't even make it till morning. Others… his vitals are off the charts. But one thing's certain: Subject 94 is different. He's the key."
Charles leaned back. "I think so too—"
A sharp, blaring alarm cut him off.
"EMERGENCY CODE 404!" blared the automated voice.
"What the hell?" Charles shot up from his chair.
William was already moving. "Looks like he's awake."
They both sprinted down the corridor. The closer they got to the lab, the more chaotic things became. When they burst through the double doors, a chilling scene awaited them.
Shattered glass littered the floor like crystal shrapnel. The containment capsule—once a towering cylinder of reinforced glass—was destroyed.
"He's not here," William said breathlessly, scanning the room.
Then came a low growl. From above.
Charles pointed upward. "He's awake, William. Look!"
Suspended on a pipe above them, hunched like an animal, was Subject 94—a massive, hairy beast with glowing yellow eyes. His claws were long and jagged, his fangs protruding past his bottom lip. Saliva dripped from his jaw as he breathed heavily, each sound deep and guttural like it came from the bottom of a well.
William didn't move.
"I see him, genius," he muttered.
Then, taking a calming breath, William stepped forward and addressed the creature in a low, firm voice.
"Subject 94. Welcome back."
The beast dropped from the pipe and landed with a ground-shaking thud. It loomed over William, drooling, panting, eyes flickering.
Then, in a voice cracked and raw, it whispered, "P… Pa… PAPA?"
The room fell silent. The monster's voice was heavy, strained—like a newborn trying to mimic a word it barely understood.
William nodded slowly, his voice soft but unwavering. "Yes… Subject 94. I am the one who made you. I am your creator. Know it."
The creature dropped to a crouch, still breathing hard, still snarling—but quieter now, almost confused.
"You did it, Papa," Charles said with a stunned smile, stepping back toward the hallway. "You actually did it."
By the time Subject 94 turned to look for the voice, Charles was already gone.
William took another step forward, hands relaxed at his sides. "Calm down now, Subject," he said gently.
The creature's head was sticky with some kind of fluid—amniotic or blood, it was hard to tell. William reached out and rested a hand on its crown.
"You made your father proud," he whispered. "Now… stand. Follow me."
Subject 94 hesitated, then rose to his full height—easily over seven feet tall. The lab lights flickered, and somewhere far off, another alarm began to buzz faintly.
But the monster obeyed.