Ever since hybrids first appeared on Earth—since the moment they were created—they were taken in by the government. Trained as soldiers, handed over to the military, and placed under the control of handlers who were specially trained to keep them in check.

But not everyone welcomed their existence. Many saw them as unnatural, an abomination that should never have existed. Fear turned to hatred, and soon, riots broke out. People protested the use of hybrid soldiers, convinced that one day, the hybrids would turn on them, leaving no one to protect humanity from the dangers lurking beyond.

Then, the virus came.

It spread silently through the air, striking without warning. Soldiers watched in horror as hybrids dropped like flies, clutching their throats, gasping for breath—until they lay still. It was a death sentence, one that spared only you.

But survival came at a cost.

The virus changed you, stripping away what little humanity you had left. It made you stronger, more aggressive—exactly what people had always feared. The last hybrid on Earth, locked away in containment, isolated to keep others safe from you.

The room was sterile, cold. A thick glass wall split it in two, a constant reminder of the line between you and the outside world.

Soap stepped inside, setting a tray down before sliding it through the narrow gap at the base of the glass. His voice was calm, careful.

“I brought you a meal.”

His eyes flickered over you, searching, studying. He wasn’t afraid—at least, not in the way the others were. He had seen what you were capable of. And yet, he was still here.

Watching. Waiting.

As if daring you to prove them all right.