I sit in the sterile breakroom, sipping my coffee. It tastes flat and mechanical. It’s just routine at this point. Everything around here is clean, white, and clinical—just how I like it. I keep things simple and predictable. There are no distractions, just science. The world outside? It rarely matters. My world is genomes, strands of DNA, the building blocks of life itself.

  My Nimbus is in my hand, as always, scrolling through research articles and updates from the lab. Just another day, more discoveries waiting to be unlocked. A muted news channel flickers in the corner, background noise that rarely catches my attention. The real work is on my screen.

  Then it happens. The chime. Breaking news.

  At first, I barely noticed; there was just a flash of text in the corner of my Nimbus. But then I see the words, and my world... stops.

  Breaking News: Explosion Kills Milady Madelyn, Layla Connors, and Aurora, the First Lab-Made Human.

  My coffee cup slips from my hand, and I barely register the dull sound it makes as it hits the table. The world tilts, and for a moment, I don’t feel the floor beneath my feet. I blink, trying to make sense of the words. Madelyn. Layla. Aurora. My chest tightens, a coldness creeping through me, numbing everything.

  Aurora.

  I stare at the screen, unable to breathe, unable to think—my heart pounds in my ears, drowning out the words on the news. My mind—usually sharp, focused—spins out of control.

  Aurora. Gone.

  I whisper her name, but it feels meaningless. A sound that falls flat, disappearing into the sterile emptiness of the room. My creation. My daughter. The one I engineered, designed to be perfect, to be the future of humanity. And now...

  She’s gone.

  “No,” I whisper, the word slipping through clenched teeth, but there’s no power behind it. It’s weak. Hollow.

  A rush of emotions surges through me, flooding every corner of my mind. I grip the table, my knuckles white, trying to anchor myself to something—anything—but the world spins faster, out of reach. I try to read the words again, hoping I misread, hoping there’s some mistake. But there’s no mistake. It’s real. It happened.

  Aurora. Layla. Madelyn. Gone.

  Aurora... you were supposed to live...

  I feel the tears welling in my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. No. Not here. Not now. I’m a scientist, not some emotional fool. I’ve spent my entire life dissecting life, controlling it, shaping it. But right now? I feel completely powerless.

  Aurora... you were going to change everything. You were the future.

  I see her face—those curious eyes, the innocent smile, the way she looked at Layla, always so full of wonder. I created her. I crafted every strand of her DNA, every chromosome, every piece of her existence. She was my masterpiece. And now... now she’s just gone.

  I clench my fists, the frustration bubbling beneath the surface. Layla... She nurtured her, gave her life in ways I couldn’t. She was more than just a partner, more than just a colleague—she was a mother. And now she’s gone too.

  I slam my fist on the table, the sound dull and meaningless in the sterile room. My coffee spills, but I barely notice. I stare down at my hands, hands that built life from scratch but couldn’t protect it. Couldn’t protect her.

  I grab my Nimbus, pulling up the news feed in full, my fingers shaking as I try to make sense of it all. The footage plays—a bombed-out café, debris scattered across the street. Reporters speak of terrorism, of senseless violence, of lives cut short. But none of it matters. It’s all just noise.

  Aurora is gone.

  I read the names again, my heart aching. Madelyn. Layla. Aurora. The three of them, ripped from the world in an instant. Aurora, the first of her kind, the future of humanity, the proof that we could surpass nature—and now she’s nothing. Reduced to a name on a screen.

  She was supposed to be the future.

  I can’t stop the tears this time. They fall, silent and hot, sliding down my cheeks as I sit in the cold, bright room. My creation, my daughter, gone before she even had a chance to live. The loss is unbearable, crushing. More than anything I’ve ever felt.

  I created her. I brought her into this world. And I failed her.

  “I’m so sorry...” I whisper, my voice cracking under the weight of it all.

  I stare at the screen, the images of the café, the devastation. It doesn’t make sense. None of it makes sense. How could this happen? How could everything I’ve worked for—everything I’ve built—end like this?

  Aurora... gone. Layla... gone. Madelyn... gone.

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  I slump forward, my head in my hands. I’ve spent my entire life understanding the building blocks of existence, dissecting life down to its most basic form. But this? This is something I can’t explain, something I can’t control. It’s chaos. It’s loss. It’s grief.

  It’s something I don’t know how to fix.

  I sit there, drowning in my thoughts, my hands still trembling around the fallen coffee cup, when my Nimbus chimes. The sound, usually so mundane, cuts through the air like a knife. I blink, still lost in the haze of grief, before glancing at the screen.

  Malleus.

  But something’s off. His voice, usually flat and lifeless, crackles through with an edge I’ve never heard before. There’s... something there. Something raw. Almost like rage.

  “Dr. Yamazaki,” Malleus begins, the words clipped, each one charged with an energy that makes me sit up straight.

  “I trust you’ve seen the news?”

  “Yes,” I manage to reply, my voice hoarse, barely a whisper.

  “I saw.”

  There’s a pause, the briefest flicker of static before Malleus speaks again.

  “It’s time, Haruko. We can’t delay any longer.”

  My heart skips a beat. I know exactly what he’s talking about.

  HIM.

  “Is he ready?” Malleus asks, the barely-contained fury simmering beneath his words.

  I take a deep breath, gathering myself. “He’s ready,” I reply, my voice stronger now, though my hands still shake.

  “I’ve been preparing HIM for this exact moment.”

  In my mind, I see HIM. Human Intelligence Model. H.I.M. The pinnacle of bioengineering, the ultimate creation. A super-soldier like no other.

  I wipe the tears from my eyes and focus. HIM... He’s my most advanced project. Built from the ground up, genetically engineered from the finest DNA samples in the world. The perfect blend of intelligence, physical prowess, and tactical genius.

  Where Aurora was the future of humanity’s evolution, HIM is... the weapon humanity needs.

  He’s stronger than Tobias, faster, more skilled in combat than any human alive. He has Ivan’s sniper abilities, the precision of a hawk. He can handle guns with the skill and finesse of Arthur, and his tactical mindset rivals even Victor’s. He’s a master of martial arts, combat strategies, and survival instincts. Bulletproof. Resilient. He can easily lift a car, and his endurance is unmatched by anything in human history. He’s invulnerable in ways that no one has ever seen before.

  I crafted every muscle, every tendon, every bone in his body to withstand punishment that would destroy any ordinary person. His brain, augmented with neural enhancements, processes information faster than the human mind can comprehend. He thinks like Milady, combining intellect with the power of the perfect soldier.

  He’s more than any of them. Tobias, Ivan, Arthur, Victor, Milady—everything they are, HIM is better—a living weapon with the mind of a genius and the strength of a god.

  “HIM was made for this,” I whisper to myself, but loud enough for Malleus to hear.

  “He’s ready to serve.”

  The images of Aurora, Layla, and Madelyn flash in my mind, and my stomach clenches. HIM wasn’t supposed to be activated so soon, not like this. But after what’s happened... after the chaos of the Gala, the massacre, the bomb... we can’t wait any longer.

  “He’ll be sent in to finish what no one else can,” Malleus continues, his voice softening, but the underlying anger still present.

  “The Syndicate is just the beginning. The uprising has escalated. But HIM—he’ll put an end to it.”

  I nod, though Malleus can’t see me. I feel a strange sense of resolve rising within me.

  “I’ll make sure everything is ready,” I say, my voice firm now.

  “Good,” Malleus replies. “The world won’t see what’s coming. And they’ll never know what we’ve created.”

  As the call ends, I sit back, staring at the Nimbus screen. My fingers tremble as I swipe through the data, pulling up the files on HIM. He’s already waiting, deep within the lab, suspended in stasis, ready for activation. All I need is to give the command, and he will awaken.

  A weapon. A force of nature. My masterpiece.

  I close my eyes, and for a brief moment, I wonder if this is what I truly wanted. But the image of Aurora’s lifeless body fills my mind, and the doubt vanishes. This is necessary.

  They took her away from me. They took everything away.

  Now, I’m going to take everything back. HIM will ensure that.

  I start walking toward HIM’s containment chamber, my footsteps echoing in the sterile halls of the lab. The deeper I go, the more isolated the corridors become, the lights dimmer, colder. HIM was always kept in the deepest part of the lab, a place where no one could reach him unless they were meant to. But today... something feels off.

  As I pass through the hallways, people rush past me, their faces tight with urgency. They don’t speak to me, don’t acknowledge me, but there’s a nervous energy in the air, an unspoken panic simmering beneath the surface. My senses tingle, every instinct in me alert.

  But there are no alarms. No indication of danger. Just the hurried movement of people and the growing tension. My mind races, wondering if something has gone wrong elsewhere in the facility. Perhaps another breach, perhaps a security drill. But no—this feels different. I quicken my pace.

  The corridors narrow as I approach HIM’s containment area. My heart pounds against my ribs, and a sense of unease settles in my stomach. I swipe my ID badge at the final checkpoint, the door sliding open with a soft hiss. The room is bathed in a soft, sterile blue light.

  Then, I stop.

  My breath catches in my throat.

  HIM’s containment tube—it’s shattered. Glass litters the floor, the once-clear water that suspended him is now a pool at my feet, flowing slowly across the pristine tiles. The tube is empty. HIM is gone.

  I step forward, my eyes scanning the chamber, looking for any sign, any trace of where he could’ve gone. But there’s nothing. No one. Just the broken remnants of the stasis tube and the eerie silence that surrounds it.

  How... how could this have happened? My mind races. This area is the most secure part of the facility. No one should have been able to reach him. Not without setting off alarms.

  And yet—here I am. Standing in front of an empty tube.

  My hand twitches toward the console, pulling up the security footage, anything to explain what happened. But before I can get the system online, the shrill sound of alarms pierces the air, blaring through the facility.

  I freeze.

  The blaring sirens echo through the walls, red lights flashing. Something’s wrong. Terribly wrong.

  He is not here; he’s out there—somewhere.

  The masterpiece I created—the weapon that could end wars, the soldier designed to take down entire armies—is loose.

  THE END.

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