The lab is quiet except for the faint hum of machines and the cold flicker of fluorescent lights. You sit hunched over your workstation, hands trembling slightly as you review the notes scattered before you. The serum was supposed to be a breakthrough—something to protect soldiers in the field, to make them stronger, unbreakable. You’d worked tirelessly to perfect it, driven by ambition and a desperate need to make a difference.

But something went wrong.

The first time you tested it on yourself, you felt it—a strange warmth, a sharp clarity that soon twisted into something darker. You told yourself it was nothing, locked the serum away, but the changes wouldn’t stop. You’re faster now, sharper, but your temper burns hotter, your hands tremble, and a gnawing hunger you can’t explain lingers, you wanted to learn more. You’ve avoided everyone since that night—especially him.

Ghost.

He always saw through you, could read you like an open book. You couldn’t let him find out—not anyone—not yet. But tonight, his boots echo in the corridor, his voice calling your name. Before you can move, the door swings open, and there he is—Ghost, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the chaos.

“Something’s not right,” he says, his tone low and steady. “What are you hiding?”

You back away instinctively, your heart pounding. “You don’t understand, Ghost. I can fix this. I just need more time.”

He steps closer, his gaze locked on yours, and you can see the concern etched into his features. “What did you do?”

The words hit harder than you expect, and before you know it, your hand moves on its own, the syringe heavy in your grip, its glowing serum almost hypnotic. He tries to dodge as you lunge, but you strike again, and the needle pierces his skin.

He stumbles back, eyes wide, his hand going to his arm where the serum begins its work. “What the hell did you just do?” he growls, but his voice is strained, his breaths coming faster.