They say the sky cracked open at 11:47 a.m.

Satellites fried. Communication grids collapsed. The orbital shield failed in less than nine minutes.

And then—they came.

Not from above.

Not from space.

But from between the seams of reality itself.

Monsters. Real ones.

Not the kind with fangs and horns, but creatures that bent physics with every step.

Some walked like men. Others slithered like machines.

Cities became graves in hours.

That was the day humanity broke.

It was also the day I was born.

...----------------...

They told me my father died behind the wheel, trying to outrun an aerial collapse zone.

My mother died hours later, giving birth to me in a field hospital’s generator-flickering basement.

There were no lullabies.

Only sirens.

Only the cold red lights of emergency systems cycling through death protocols.

No one held me when I cried.

They didn’t have the time.

I was registered as Infant 041-Z: healthy and alive.

A miracle, they said.

But I’ve learned miracles are just mistakes the world doesn’t know how to correct.

...----------------...

I grew up in Sector 9, under the UEG (Unified Earth Government) care initiative.

Cramped steel bunkers, recycled oxygen, and food made from protein gels.

A generation of orphans raised by drones and exhausted soldiers.

By age five, I knew how to fire a plasma rifle.

By eight, I was learning tactical formations through virtual simulations.

At twelve, I enlisted.

Not because I wanted to fight.

I never liked the idea of piercing through flesh.

But that was the only way I'd be recognised, that was the only way I wouldn't end up rotting in a fucking corner.

...----------------...

They say I wasn’t special.

They’re right.

I had no enhancements. No cybernetic implants. No awakened genes.

Just bruises, broken ribs, and discipline.

But I kept going.

I kept fighting.

And somehow… that was enough.

Anna Croft. Hero Corps Rank 5.

Recon Division.

Assigned to the frontline reclamation of fallen cities.

I wasn't the strongest. I wasn’t built for this.

But I survived, I thought I could finally live in peace. Protecting people.

Until I saw it.

Project Genesis.

It wasn’t a myth. It wasn’t a whisper. It was real—and I had clearance to the files.

Buried beneath the surface of Zone-42, the government wasn’t just developing weapons.

They were making them.

From people.

From survivors.

Children dragged from broken cities. Civilians marked as “mutated.”

Anyone who came into contact with monsters and lived.

They weren’t rescued.

They were collected.

Experimented on. Injected. Fused with bio-organic monster tissue.

Skinned open and rebuilt in underground labs lit by sterile blue lights.

And the worst part?

The heroes knew.

"This is for humanity"

What's humanity if there aren't any humans to live through?

“We don’t have a choice.”

Liars.

"We can win if we—"

Win at the cost of countless lives, you save 1 and sacrifice 10.

Win?

Win what?

False glory?

Praises of millions of innocents who don't know how many lives you have sacrificed?

I tried to expose it. I sent encrypted reports, flagged red-level emergency data across the network.

But someone intercepted me.

Everyone was in this, I can't do anything.

And just like that, Anna Croft disappeared.

Official statement?

“Anna Croft was compromised. A mole for the tech cultists. A traitor. Terminated for security reasons."

...----------------...

I remember pain.

Not in the cinematic way. Not fire and rage.

Just cold.

A sting in my spine.

A needle to the neck.

The silence of death.

I died.

Quiet. Unheard.

Like a whisper beneath a thunderstorm.

But I woke up, for some reason.

Not in heaven.

Not in some digital afterlife.

But here.

A cold lab.

Soft restraints on my wrists.

The steady beep of a medical display.

A body that wasn’t mine. Smaller. Scarred.

A name flashing on a monitor nearby.

SUBJECT 1096-A

STATUS: Stabilized

NAME: Anna

'That's my name' I thought to myself.

but not my body.

The mirror caught my eye.

Young. Thin. Faded skin, lips cracked, stitch lines running from collarbone to jaw.

But those eyes…

Crimson.

My eyes.

My soul.

But that face—

I know that face.

I remember pulling her out of the rubble in District 5.

A girl huddled under a collapsed monorail station, half-conscious, coughing blood.

Her name was Anna too. A cruel coincidence, or maybe fate's way of laughing.

I saved her.

I wrapped her in a thermal blanket.

I told her she’d be okay.

And now she’s here.

Strapped to a table. Experimented on.

And I’m inside her body.

They took her after I saved her.

Cut her open. Injected her. Fused her with monster tissue.

Until she couldn’t hold on anymore.

And now I’m wearing what’s left of her.

How inhuman of them.

I flexed my fingers. The restraints, though metal, cracked with the slightest twitch of my wrist. No resistance. No strain. Just—snap.

The sensation was alien—too fast, too fluid.

My strength wasn’t normal. My body wasn’t human.

Blood coated my fingertips. Dried, but mine now. Hers before.

Maybe both.

I stood, slow and deliberate, walking to the mirror. My reflection followed, half-spectral, too still. I lifted my bloodstained fingers to my face.

"From now on, I'm Anna...Anna Nox."

WEEEOOO–WEEEOOO–WEEEOOO.

Red lights flared to life, casting the lab in a pulsing crimson wash. Sirens screamed overhead. Emergency sensors must’ve picked up the restraint failure.

I glanced up at the ceiling where a surveillance lens blinked once—then dimmed.

They know.

Had seconds, maybe less.

That’s when I saw it—on the metal counter just a few feet away.

A gun.

Sleek, matte black. Futuristic. No trigger guard. Etched with glowing blue lines that pulsed faintly with energy. I recognized the model.

“V-9 Railcaster,” I muttered. “Non-mechanical. Electromagnetic firing system. Government issue.”

Illegal for public use. Only distributed to elite Hero Corps and internal security.

I once held one of these as my own in my past life.

"Well, welcome back then."

I picked it up. Light, almost weightless. The moment my fingers curled around the grip, it pulsed—responding to the bio-signature of my new body. The interface slid into place along the side: a digital ammo counter, currently at 17 pulses.

"More than enough."

I turned to the door—metal, sealed, no visible handle. A scanner flickered on the side, awaiting clearance.

I raised my bloodied hand and pressed it to the pad. Nothing.

Then the light shifted—green.

Access granted.

The door hissed and split open.

A sterile hallway stretched before me, lined with reinforced glass and motion-sensor lights that flickered with each step I took.

Building 06.

I knew the name now. It came back in pieces. Whispers in the dark when I still worked for Hero Corps. Classified files buried in encrypted servers. The place that didn’t exist.

'Project Genesis'

Where human evolution was no longer theoretical.

Where people became weapons—or corpses.

Footsteps.

I pressed my back against the wall just as a squad of armed guards turned a corner, scanning the hallway.

Their visors glowed. Infrared. Motion-detection.

Standard containment response.

'Just had to run into these guys...' I thought to myself.

Among the people who worked with the heroes of the government, were these guys.

Augments.

– Short for Augmented Operatives – are enhanced humans modified through advanced cybernetic implants, biomechanical engineering, or neural tech. They serve as the government’s elite enforcers, often used for black ops missions, assassination, and internal containment.

They were divided into classes.

Augment-Class I – Basic neural enhancements and subdermal armor.

Augment-Class II – Integrated weapon systems, strength augmentation.

Augment-Class III – Experimental, often unstable—near monster-level power.

'I had no clue they were gaurding this building...I don't don't of I'll stand a chance against them'

My breath slowed.

Their footsteps were too synchronized—metal hitting tile like a ticking clock. One of them paused, head tilting ever so slightly.

Class II, at least. You could tell by the hissing valves near the jawline, the reinforced joints, and the way they moved—efficient, predatory. No wasted steps.

I’d fought beside Augments before. Back when I was one of them.

Not like them, but… still part of the machine.

Back when I still believed we were saving people.

One thing was for sure, maybe they had been human in the past but the power they had was nowhere human.

One of them spoke, voice filtered through a digitized throat modulator.

“Heat signature detected ten meters west. Possible Subject-1096-A. Move.”

'Damn it...'