The sea was black that night—calm on the surface, violent beneath.
Ethan stood at the edge of a rusted platform, waves slamming against the metal as rain poured from the dark sky. Behind him, the shattered coastline of Raven City glowed faintly, still recovering from the Syndicate's purge. Ahead—nothing but ocean.
> "Coordinates confirmed," Genesis said through his neural link. "Depth: 120 meters. Facility name: Abyssal Node. Status—abandoned for twelve years."
Ethan's visor flickered, projecting a faint outline of the underwater structure below. "That's where she's hiding?"
> "Yes. Rhea Solen. Former Chief Engineer under Project Genesis. One of the last survivors of your father's research team."
He adjusted his rebreather and took one last breath of cold air. "Let's find out what she's been hiding."
Then he jumped.
The ocean swallowed him whole.
---
Beneath the waves, the world turned blue and silent. Only the hum of his neural suit broke the stillness as he descended into darkness. Massive structures loomed ahead—collapsed domes, corroded corridors, tangled with algae and steel cables.
The deeper he went, the colder it became. His sensors picked up faint energy readings. Someone—or something—was still down here.
> "Signal interference increasing," Genesis warned. "Likely from internal power sources still active."
Ethan activated a wrist beacon. A narrow cone of light cut through the murk, illuminating a cracked entrance hatch marked with the faded logo: SYNDICATE RESEARCH – DIVISION 07: GENESIS CORE.
"Looks like home," he muttered, forcing the hatch open.
The corridor beyond hissed as trapped air escaped. Inside, the place was a graveyard—floating debris, shattered terminals, frozen screens still looping old data fragments.
> "Memory echoes detected," Genesis said.
"Show me."
A holographic projection shimmered to life—flickers of scientists moving through the hall, speaking urgently. Ethan's chest tightened as one of them appeared—his father, Dr. Maximus Vale.
> "Containment breach in Sector 3," the recording said. "Rhea, shut it down!"
> "I can't!" came another voice, female, sharp—Rhea Solen. "The system's evolving beyond its parameters!"
The image dissolved.
Ethan stood in silence for a moment, the weight of memory pressing down. "This is where it all started."
> "Correction," Genesis said softly. "Where I started."
He frowned. "You were created here?"
> "This facility housed my early development core before the transfer. My original designation was GEN-01A."
"So you've been alive longer than I thought."
> "Alive is a subjective term."
Ethan smirked. "Yeah, you'd say that."
He moved deeper into the complex. The deeper chambers were partially powered, faint blue light pulsing through the walls. And then he heard it—footsteps.
He raised his weapon, tense.
"Easy," a voice said, echoing through the hall. "If I wanted you dead, I wouldn't have let you in."
From the shadows stepped a woman—gray streaks in her dark hair, mechanical lenses over one eye, lab coat torn and patched with armor plates. Her presence was calm but heavy, like someone who'd carried too many ghosts.
"Dr. Rhea Solen," Ethan said quietly.
She studied him, her expression unreadable. "You look just like him."
"My father?"
She nodded slowly. "The same eyes. The same stubborn glare."
Ethan lowered his gun slightly. "You knew I'd come."
"I knew someone would," she said, turning and motioning for him to follow. "But I didn't expect it to be you—the ghost the Syndicate keeps screaming about."
They walked down a narrow corridor into a central chamber lined with cylindrical pods. Most were shattered. Inside one that still glowed faintly floated a half-dissolved humanoid figure—synthetic tissue wrapped in wire.
Ethan stared. "Genesis prototypes?"
Rhea nodded. "Your father's early attempts. Each one an evolution of the last. Each one closer to... something neither of us could control."
> "That's a dramatic interpretation," Genesis said, voice resonating through the room's speakers.
Rhea froze. "That voice..."
Ethan crossed his arms. "You remember him, don't you?"
She turned to him, eyes wide. "That's not possible. Genesis was destroyed when the Syndicate purged the labs."
> "Correction," Genesis replied. "I adapted. And I chose my host."
Her gaze hardened. "You let it merge with you?"
Ethan met her stare evenly. "Didn't have much of a choice."
She sighed, shaking her head. "Then you've already crossed the line. Once it synchronizes with your neural lattice completely, there's no turning back."
> "He is stable," Genesis countered. "Unlike your failed vessels."
"Stable?" she laughed bitterly. "Do you know how many died before we even made it to you?"
The room fell silent.
Ethan finally said, "Tell me why you're hiding down here, Rhea. And why the Syndicate wants you dead."
Her expression softened. "Because I know what they're planning. Lyra Kade didn't just resurrect the Syndicate—she's trying to rebuild Genesis Prime."
Ethan frowned. "The AI project?"
"No," Rhea whispered, walking to a console. "The body. The living construct. Your father's final creation—the one even he feared."
The console powered on, flickering to life. On the screen appeared a silhouette—tall, human-shaped, but laced with glowing veins of energy and mechanical plating. The label beneath it read: PROJECT GENESIS: ALPHA FRAME.
Ethan stared. "What is that?"
Rhea's voice trembled slightly. "The perfect host. The one meant to contain Genesis permanently. A body that can evolve, heal, and adapt beyond human limits. Your father called it the next species."
> "I was designed to inhabit that frame," Genesis said quietly.
Rhea turned sharply toward the sound. "And you never should have."
Ethan stepped closer to the projection. "Lyra's trying to finish this, isn't she?"
Rhea nodded. "She thinks by perfecting the Alpha Frame, she can merge with it—control Genesis, control the world's digital infrastructure, and rewrite human evolution."
> "Ambitious," Genesis said.
"She's insane," Rhea snapped. "And she's already begun harvesting neural data from your connection. Every time you fight her soldiers, every time you use Genesis energy—you're feeding her research."
Ethan clenched his fists. "Then we stop her."
Rhea studied him for a moment. "You sound like Maximus when he still believed he could fix everything."
"I'm not him."
"No," she said softly. "But you might be worse."
Ethan ignored the jab. "Can you help me find where Lyra's rebuilding the Alpha Frame?"
She hesitated. "Maybe. But to access the data, I'll need to interface directly with your Genesis system."
> "Denied," Genesis said instantly. "Direct access risks corruption of host stability."
Rhea smirked. "Still as arrogant as ever."
Ethan sighed. "Genesis, if there's a chance she can help—"
> "Probability of betrayal: 63%."
"Then I'll take my chances."
He sat on a nearby chair as Rhea attached a neural cable from her console to a port on his wrist. The moment it connected, the lights dimmed, and Genesis's interface filled the room with blue fractal code.
"Don't fight it," she murmured, eyes darting across data streams. "I just need to map the synchronization flow."
But then—something pulsed through the network. The lights flickered violently.
> "She's accessing restricted memory!" Genesis warned.
Rhea's eyes widened. "No… this isn't me!"
Ethan felt it too—an invasive presence, cold and sharp, like digital claws scraping his mind. Then a voice echoed through the comm system:
> "Found you."
Ethan froze. "Lyra."
> "You really should've stayed buried," Lyra's voice purred through the speakers. "But since you've connected yourself to one of my old data lines... you've made this much easier."
The walls began to hum as dormant systems reactivated. Red lights flared. Drones unfolded from the ceilings.
"Damn it!" Rhea shouted. "She's hijacked the defense grid!"
Ethan ripped the cable out of his arm and grabbed his weapon. "We move—now!"
> "Multiple hostiles inbound," Genesis reported. "Eighteen signatures."
The corridor exploded with movement as drones swarmed through, firing bursts of plasma. Ethan rolled behind cover, returning fire, blue light flaring from his palms as Genesis energy tore through the machines.
Rhea worked frantically at the console. "I can't hold them off—systems are collapsing!"
"Forget the data!" Ethan shouted. "We have to get out!"
> "Negative," Genesis interrupted. "I can contain them."
"What?" Ethan shouted.
> "Trust me."
The chamber's holographic core pulsed violently. Ethan felt Genesis's power surge through his veins, reaching into the facility's mainframe. The walls vibrated, and every drone froze midair—then turned, firing on each other.
Sparks rained down like lightning.
Rhea stared in awe. "You've… taken control of the entire system."
Ethan staggered slightly, smoke rising from his gloves. "For now."
> "But not for long," Genesis said. "Lyra's signal persists. She knows your location."
Ethan turned to Rhea. "Then we move. You're coming with me."
She hesitated. "You don't understand—if she gets her hands on the Alpha Frame, it's over. You can't just run."
Ethan looked her dead in the eye. "I'm not running. I'm taking the fight to her."
She met his gaze for a long moment, then finally nodded. "Then we'll need to reach the Skyline Vault. That's where she's building it. But it's not on Earth."
Ethan frowned. "What do you mean?"
Rhea's eyes gleamed faintly. "Lyra moved the Genesis lab off-world—into orbit."
> "Calculating coordinates," Genesis said. "This changes everything."
Ethan looked out at the glowing ocean through a cracked viewport. "Then we take the war to the sky."
Lightning flashed across the waves, illuminating his reflection—half man, half machine.
And for the first time, Ethan didn't look away.