Chapter 145: Subject Alpha

The Resonance Compass was making an unpleasant noise. Its high-pitched whine vibrated through the floor and into their bones. The needle inside was a frantic blur, slamming against its case with a tink-tink-tink sound.

The team stood around the stasis pod. The sickly light from inside painted their faces with dread. The pod began to release waves of pain. It was a psychic scream that made the hairs on their skin stand up.

“This is it,” Vanessa said, her voice strained over the noise of the compass. “The trace is coming from inside.”

Draven moved to the side of the pod, his armored arm resting on a red release valve. He looked over at Seraph, his eyes asking the silent question.

Seraph gave a single, sharp nod in return. Her sidearm was raised, its barrel aimed directly at the center of the frosted glass. Her face was calm and professional.

“On my mark,” she commanded, her voice cutting through the tension. “Open it.”

Draven didn’t hesitate. He wrapped his fingers around the valve and, with a grunt of effort, turned it sideways.

HIIISSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.

The change came at once. A wave of freezing, white gas burst from the pod’s edges. It poured across the floor in a thick cloud. The cold was so sharp, it hurt them. A harsh, chemical smell came with it, stinging their noses. The faint light within was completely hidden by this sudden fog.

The team held their place, brave and ready. Their weapons pointed forward, their eyes trying hard to pierce the thick fog. The terrible screaming of the compass faded. The freezing gas seemed to hush the strange energy, but only for a brief time. For a few seconds, the lab was filled with a tense silence.

Slowly, the white gas began to fade away. It grew thinner, disappearing into the air. Inside the pod, a shape could now be seen. It was a dark shadow, slumped over and not moving at all.

When the last of the mist had vanished, then they finally saw it. The sight before them was a thousand times more horrifying than any beast they had ever imagined in their darkest nightmares.

It was not a clone of Jonah.

It was a nightmare made of flesh and metal.

Slumped inside was a creature so horrible it stole their breath. It was shaped almost like a person but made of a mix of animal parts and pink flesh. All of it was badly sewn together with thick, black threads. One arm had scales and ended in a deadly claw. The other was a thin, bony leg, like an insect. Patches of gray fur grew right next to smooth, pale skin. Rough metal rods were bolted into its spine, and a tangled mess of wires and tubes came from its chest, dripping dark, oily liquid.

Its face was empty and almost like a human’s. It had no nose and its mouth was a smooth, blank line. But it was the look on that face that truly broke them.

This wasn’t a weapon. It was a terrible, sad thing.

Jonah felt a terrible sickness wash over him, forcing him to step back. This thing… it was from his blood. From his power. He had used that same power to create life, to honor a promise, to make beauty. But the Bureau had used it to make… this. This awful, wrong creature.

Then he saw it.

On the creature’s arm, Jonah saw a mark. It was a sick, scarred copy of his own God Mark. Where Jonah’s mark was a perfect, clever design, this one was a twisted, burned-in brand. It glowed with the same wild, unstable light as the pod.

Jonah felt a sharp pain shoot up his own arm, an horrified rejection of what he was seeing. This wasn’t just an insult to his power; it was a desecration of his soul.

For a long moment, the team could only stare in a mixture of horror and pity.

Then, its eyes snapped open.

They weren’t the eyes of a beast and not even close to the eyes of a human. They were two pools of corrupted light, stolen from a source they were never meant to contain. They held no thought, no anger, no intelligence.

Only pain.

And then the scream came.

“AAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHH!”

Draven roared and staggered back, his greatsword clattering against the floor. Seraph cried out, her aim wavering as the scream tore at her concentration.

Vanessa was hit even worse. She stumbled, grabbing her head as her runic amplifiers flared out of control. “My shields…!” she cried out, “I can’t… I can’t focus!”

But Jonah was hit the hardest.

His empathic link that allowed him to connect so deeply with his own Progeny, made him an antenna for this kind of psychic broadcast. The scream wasn’t just a noise in his head; it was a force trying to tear his consciousness apart.

His sight exploded into a world of burning, white-hot pain. He could feel the cold metal of the operating table. He felt the burning pain of metal parts being stuck to its spine. He felt the wild confusion of a mind born into a terrible nightmare. It was the creature’s pain, and for a terrifying moment, it became his own. He collapsed to one knee, a choked cry escaping his lips.

The creature began to move.

Inside the pod, its body began to move violently. Its limbs twitched, slamming against the inner surface of the glass. It wasn’t an attempt to escape. It was a tortured puppet, flailing in a desperate attempt to make its own pain stop.

The psychic scream became worse.

Jonah grit his teeth, fighting to stay conscious. Through the searing pain, he could hear a new sound. A noise that was somehow clearer than the scream.

CRACK.

He looked up, his vision swimming.

The sound was coming from the stasis chamber. A crack had appeared on the reinforced glass.

CRACK.

Another one appeared. Then another.

The creature’s psychic pain was so powerful it was breaking the prison that held it.

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