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Draven Fox forges a new family to fight the war against Dr. D |
[Introduction]  It started with six of us. Six families torn apart by the arrogance of a man who fancied himself a god. Dr. Dean Velenti "Dr. D" as he called himself; decided that human DNA wasn't enough. So he spliced ours with that of animals, twisting our bodies, rewriting our futures, and creating something the world was never meant to see. That something...was us. We were children; unwilling, unknowing. Test subjects. Creations. Weapons. Survivors. My name is Draven Fox, once the leader of the original Genetic Six; now the head of a new movement: G6 Unlimited. What began as six has grown. We are many now. Not just survivors, but fighters, thinkers, builders, each of us shaped by our past, but no longer chained to it. After the events in North Dakota; after the fire, the blood, and the truth that finally made it to daylight...we scattered. Each of us tried to forge a life outside the shadows. Some succeeded. Some didn't. It’s been ten long years since that day, and though the scars have faded on the surface, they run deep beneath. The government knows everything now. The Genetic Six are no longer secrets. The practice of gene-splicing has been outlawed...at least on paper. But there are still whispers in high places. People in power who want the research revived. Refined. Controlled. And none louder than Cameron Frost. We’ve seen what “volunteer-based” experimentation looks like. We lived it. And we’ll die before we let it happen again. They thought they buried us. They thought we’d fade away. But we’re still here. And this time, we’re not running. This time...we’re taking control. Rules For this campfire 1. If you want to be a part of this campfire then send me an email and I'll send you a list of the possible characters you can be. 2. No killing characters unless approved by me. 3. I have a plan, so major plot twists unless approved by me first. 4. Watch your mouth in here people, stick to the rating. 5. Spelling and Grammar, try to check your addition for any mistakes, though a few is okay we all make typos  6. If you have any questions or need help; email me I'm willing to help anyone. 7. You'll be emailed certain info for your character that needs to be added on occasion, so be prepared for that. 8. Do your best to add a quality addition. 500 is the minimum. 9. IF, after you've contacted me and asked for inspiration, but found nothing working for you, skip yourself or ask to be skipped. 10. Everyone has 2 days to add their addition before being auto skipped; even me. Characters Draven Fox - Age: 28 - Aka: One - Leader/Tracker Dire Wolf/Fox Hybrid DNA - tracker, strategic, stealth, cunning, leadership - Lonewolf  Zaeyeon Fox – Age: 18 - Aka: Six - Tech Specialist / Hacker / Powerhouse Electric eel DNA – bioelectricity, tech interfacing - coffeehouse  Chameleon 64 - Age: 26 - Aka: Cam - Infiltration Kitchen sink combination of DNA - Subterfuge / Defensive Combat - #Stitch
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Name: Draven Fox Age: 28 Species: Human Animal Hybrid (Dire Wolf / Red Fox / Bengal Tiger) Appearance: In his human form, Draven stands at 6'1", lean yet powerfully built like a distance runner or apex predator. His musculature is honed for both speed and strength. His skin is a deep, warm bronze with rich undertones, etched with faint, irregular patterning across his shoulders and spine; ghostly remnants of the splicing process. His wild, tousled hair is dark auburn, streaked with black and silver at the tips. His piercing amber gold eyes become slitted and reflective when angered, glowing eerily in low light. In full hybrid form, Draven reaches 7'1", his frame cloaked in sleek black fur with distinctive brown V-shaped streaks. His tiger DNA makes him even more muscular and imposing than standard hybrids, his claws are thicker, his bones denser, and his roar carries a paralyzing resonance. His eyes burn amber, flashing silver under the right light. His clothing is practical and tactical: dark hooded jackets, fitted combat pants, and terrain ready boots. Around his neck hangs a worn wolf tooth pendant a memento of his brother Gabriel, and one of the few connections to the life he lost |
| Name: Zaeyeon "Six" Fox Age: 18 Species: Human-Animal Hybrid (Electric Eel DNA) Appearance: Zaeyeon stands at 5'8" with a strong, athletic build compact and agile, with quick reflexes and sharp eyes. Her skin is a smooth mahogany-copper tone with a faint bluish shimmer when viewed under certain light, especially when her bioelectric abilities activate. Raised scars resembling lightning bolt filaments run faintly along her arms and down her back evidence of her early conditioning and the energy channels etched into her flesh by experimentation. Her hair is jet black and often worn in a high braid or under a hood, though it occasionally flares with static when her emotions spike. Her eyes are bright steel-blue, and in moments of heightened charge, they pulse faintly like circuit nodes. She usually wears tactically flexible armored jumpsuits embedded with conductive fibers, gloves with interface pads, and a modified visor headset she built herself to link with comms, drones, and hacked surveillance systems. In her downtime she often wears a black hoodie with a glowing blue seam lining her own nod to stealth. In her transformed state, Zaeyeon's body becomes more conductive and luminous. Her skin radiates a faint bioluminescent glow along her veins and scars, and her hands emit arcs of crackling electricity. Thin, fin-like ridges protrude slightly from her forearms and spine, allowing for discharge modulation and heightened environmental awareness, especially in water or metal-rich environments. She can release directed shocks, overcharge tech systems with her touch, or use her body like a living battery. In full combat charge, the surrounding air becomes ionized and carries a faint scent of ozone. |
| I used to count the days by the sound of footsteps outside the reinforced glass of my cell. Heavy boots. A pause. The hiss of the lock disengaging. The door opening. A clipboard. A syringe. That’s how you tell time when your childhood is spent in a cage. They called us many things: Subjects. Assets. Weapons. We called ourselves something else: The Genetic Six We didn’t ask for the animal DNA they stitched into us. We didn’t ask to become something the world wasn’t ready for something we weren’t ready for either. We weren’t born monsters. They made us this way, under flickering fluorescent lights that smelled of bleach, blood, and burning hair as our bodies twisted and screamed themselves into something new. When the compound fell in North Dakota, the truth came out. The world finally saw what we were. The government stood in front of cameras, swore it was over, swore it was wrong, swore it would never happen again. Gene splicing was outlawed. They buried the science, buried the bodies, and buried us in silence. But not everyone was content to let the past stay dead. They think the experiment ended with us. But you can’t kill a ghost, and you can’t bury fire. And some people in power want to finish what was started. My name is Draven Fox, leader of the G6 Unlimited. And this is the story of how the past never lets you go and how sometimes, you have to burn it down before it takes everything you love again.   The rain fell like whispers over Seattle’s rotting rooftops, soft and constant, as if the sky itself was afraid to raise its voice in this city of neon decay and quiet hunger. Draven crouched on the edge of a water-streaked rooftop, the dark hood of his jacket pulled low, eyes scanning the street below where steam rose from manhole covers like the last breath of the world. His ears picked up the hum of distant neon, the soft rumble of a generator, the crackle of a power junction failing two blocks down. It wasn’t the city he was listening for. It was her. Zaeyeon “Six” Fox She was supposed to be in hiding. She had been for years, living like a ghost in the wires, dropping rumors, hacking dark networks, vanishing before anyone could catch her scent. But she wasn’t as invisible as she thought. Draven knew her pulse in the circuits, her breath in the static. She was family. The only family he had left. And she was in pain. He moved quietly down the fire escape, boots silent against rusted metal, until he reached the street. The old telecom tower loomed above him, dark and gutted, an abandoned corpse of a building. But deep inside, he could feel the prickle on the back of his neck, the static in the air. Zaeyeon was here. He found her three floors up, in a half collapsed server room lit by flickering blue screens and the faint glow of her bioluminescent veins. Her back was to him; black hair pulled into a high braid that sparked at the tips. She was elbow deep in a fried console, electricity dancing from her fingers, lighting up dead wires. “You’re getting sloppy,” Draven said. She didn’t turn. “Or maybe I wanted you to find me.” Lightning pulsed along her arm, and the screen in front of her flickered to life, dancing with lines of code, security camera feeds, names. One name pulsed red: CAMERON FROST “Tell me you’re not going after him alone,” Draven said. Zaeyeon let out a brittle laugh that cracked like glass. “He’s pushing for a new ‘volunteer’ gene program. You know what that means, Draven.” “I know exactly what it means.” She turned to face him, her storm gray eyes bright and pained, ringed with blue light. Her face was tired, older than her eight-teen years, with the kind of exhaustion that comes from carrying your blood like a curse. “Do you ever think about who we are?” she asked quietly. “What we’re made of?” “All the time,” Draven said. She looked away, jaw tight. “You weren’t created by the man who tortured you. I was. I’m his daughter, Draven. I’m what he made me.” Draven took a slow step forward, lowering his hood. His amber eyes met hers, steady and unflinching. “I don’t care who made you,” he said. “You’re my sister. And you don’t have to face this alone.” Zaeyeon’s hands trembled, and the lights flickered around them as the power inside her slipped. “I don’t want to be his legacy.” “You’re not,” Draven said. “We are.” They stood in silence, the only sound being the rain tapping against shattered windows. Draven reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder. There was a shock, a crackle of electricity, but he didn’t let go. “Frost wants to bring the program back. We’re going to stop him.” Zaeyeon looked at him, blinking hard, and for a moment, the lightning in her eyes softened. “Then let’s burn it all down,” she whispered. Draven nodded. Outside, the rain fell harder, and the city below seemed to hold its breath. |
| The ride felt longer than it probably was. Mountains and pine trees blurred past the window, too open, too wild after years of hiding in cities where shadows and back alleys were her only cover. Draven didn’t talk much, not that he ever did, but his presence was heavy. Solid. When the road curved and the compound came into view, her chest tightened. It wasn’t what she expected. No steel cages. No sterile labs. Just structures carved into the rock, reinforced but camouflaged, almost like they belonged to the mountains themselves. The air smelled of pine and damp earth, not antiseptic. She swallowed hard. It felt wrong to breathe this kind of air. Too free. “Cozy,” she muttered. “Better than a cage,” Draven said. Inside, the place buzzed with life. Two recruits sparred in a dirt yard, their fists clumsy but determined. Others moved crates of supplies, laughing and arguing like ordinary people instead of broken lab rats. Zaeyeon felt her skin crawl, electricity flickering along her veins. She didn’t know what unnerved her more, their easy smiles, or how badly a part of her wanted to believe in them. Her eyes caught details the way they always did. Wires in the walls, surveillance blind spots, the telltale hum of a comms hub two floors down. She could hack this place in her sleep. She could bring it down in minutes. That was easier to think about than the ache blooming in her chest. Draven led her through the halls like he belonged here. Maybe he did. The recruits nodded at him with respect, whispered his name like he was more than a survivor, like he was a leader. She wanted to scoff, but part of her agreed. When he stopped at a door and keyed it open, she expected another barracks room. Another reminder she didn’t fit anywhere. Instead, she froze in the doorway. Bed. Desk. A shelf with books. A window that looked out on forest, instead of concrete walls. No locks. No cameras. No observation glass. Just...a room. Her throat tightened. “It’s yours,” Draven said. She blinked at him, electricity prickling down her arms. “You...set this up? For me?” He didn’t flinch. “Didn’t think you’d want to bunk in the labs. Figured you’d want space.” Her hand brushed the edge of the desk, tentative. It didn’t vanish. She wasn’t dreaming. For a second, she was thirteen again, standing small and scared in a sterile cell, her father’s voice echoing in her head: You are mine, Zaeyeon. My creation. No. Not anymore. She forced a smirk. “Space, huh? Planning on me sticking around?” His amber eyes caught hers, steady and burning. “Planning on you being home.” The word slammed into her chest, cracking something open. She turned away quickly, pretending to study the window. The sun spilled across her cheek, and for once, she didn’t feel like she needed to hide. |
| Buzz buzz buzz. Spark spark spark. Cam -- currently under the alias of Cameron Thomas -- worked on the car that was kept above him with metal arms. He had worked many jobs since the dissolution (if you could call it) of the "end" of gene-splicing, and that fiery night in North Dakota. As he had no passport or even an ID or drivers license, he also had to work the "lower class" jobs like working at gas stations and scrapyards, and autoshops like this one. But he didn't mind this kind of work -- it often gave him a wonderful, if brief, break of his brain from thinking about other things. Things like being a test tube baby at some sort of mad science facility. He had been "born" as a late teenager, and while he had grown in the past ten years to look more like an adult, he often gave his age as something like mid-twenties or early thirties, he guessed that he would probably be in that range for longer than the "average" person. He had been, for some reason, kept from most of the rest of the kids at the facility, which often left him feeling lonely and a little jealous. But he'd had Dr. D. The man checked on him constantly, provided him with board games and an old Nintendo 64. Cam64 -- that's why Dr. D had named him that. He'd felt that he was his father. He'd created him, hadn't he? And he said it was for some great reason, some great destiny, even if he never told him what that was exactly. A few times, he'd even given him a cupcake for his "birthday". So Cam willingly accepted all of the painful experiments. He would have done anything for the doctor. Until the end... until the fire... Then Cam had seen the others in duress, and he had to make a choice. In the aftermath, many had gone their own ways, while some had set off together. Though he had helped them, he didn't feel like he belonged with any of them. So he went his own way. For his first few months, he spent his time surviving in the forests, and his pale form had accidentally created a new cryptid -- "The White Walker" -- not because he was in any way icy, just his "normal form". This he found hilarious. He had been named "Cam" (Cam64) because, among the kitchen sink of DNA that had created him, it was also because he had the primary ability to nearly completely change his appearance (Cam -- Chameleon), his bones and muscles bending and breaking. Needless to say it was painful, and he'd acquired a sort of "allergy" to his own powers, so that the longer the he spent time in a different form, he started to get these little purple hives. Of course he'd be allergic to himself. In his regular form, he was incredibly pale, had pointed ears, one sharp canine on top and another on the bottom. The most odd things was that while his left eye was blue and quite normal, on the other side he had three more eyes in a sort of triangle formation. These did at least have some sort of use, like one (while focusing) could sense body heat, and another (also while focusing) gave him simply slightly more efficient vision in the dark, sort of like a cat. He was... A monster. And yet even monsters loved, didn't they? Being born a teenager, his "hormones" had still kicked in a little later, so he felt natural things like an attraction to those of the opposite sex. But more importantly, he had a strong desire to simply find someone who would accept him as he was... To look at him and not be afraid. To embrace him. He wanted that even more than a kiss, just to be held, someone being so willing to hold him. Not that a kiss would be bad... And for once, he thought he might be close. He had met Sarah Hall at a coffee shop (him being disguised of course), and she had actually approached him. (He never went to bars or drank alcohol, because it decreased his ability to keep up his fake appearance. Although, to be truthful, when he was really down and alone, he'd get drunk on purpose, just to... stop feeling). Anyway, the two of them had gotten closer over the last few weeks, but every time he had a nasty feeling in his core because he knew that he was lying to her. But what was he supposed to do? Show her who -- what -- he really was? Sometimes when he was alone and thinking too much, he would think of his time under Dr. D, and almost wish that he could go back. At least Dr. D hadn't recoiled when he saw him. And he made him believe that he had some greater purpose. Why? Why had Cam turned against him in the end? He didn't like seeing others hurt, even if the "others" were those he hardly knew and held some jealousy for. Did he really have some greater purpose? "Stop thinking," he told himself. Buzz buzz buzz. Spark spark spark. Someone tapped his shoulder to get him up, and he lifted up the safety helmet. His current form was of a young black man with green eyes. All they had to say was that it was time for him to be relieved, so he went to sit at a chair and chugged some water. He tugged off one of his gloves to see his dark hand. He curled and uncurled his fingers. What he wouldn't give for them to be his real fingers... |
| Draven lingered for a moment after leaving Zaeyeon at her door. He’d seen her fingertips trace the edge of the desk like it might disappear if she touched it too firmly. Relief and wariness had both been in her eyes. Ghosts never really left you, they either settled or they haunted. He hadn’t taken ten steps down the corridor when Dante Reddick joined him, falling into stride without a sound. Few people could match Draven’s pace. Dante did it with ease. The tri-mix hybrid: German Shepherd, Doberman, Labrador, but moved with a predator’s calm, broad-shouldered and leanly muscled beneath his dark jacket. His presence was steady, but violence lingered close under the skin, leashed but never gone. His eyes swept the hall in quick, efficient passes, always cataloging threats others might miss. “Boss,” Dante said evenly, voice low and precise. “Dante.” He handed Draven a folded paper. No wasted words. Draven opened it and scanned quickly. Illegal underground fights. Same old rot. But one word hit harder than the rest: Splicer. “Witnesses confirm,” Dante said, his tone clipped. “Fast healing. Reflexes not baseline. They’re selling tickets to watch one of ours bleed for sport.” Draven’s jaw locked. Chains. Cages. Concrete floors slick with blood. The sound of people cheering while he and others like him were forced to rip each other apart. That was the legacy Dr. D left behind; monsters for crowds, weapons for power. “Location?” Draven asked. “Dockside, Old District. Ring shifts weekly, but this one’s got heavy money behind it. Someone’s protecting it.” Dante’s jaw ticked, subtle but sharp, like he was biting back a growl. “Could be bait.” Draven folded the paper and slid it into his jacket. “Bait or not, we can’t ignore it.” Dante’s hand brushed the hilt of the combat knife on his hip. Not nervousness, more like instinct. “When do we move?” “Tonight. Quiet. Recon first. If it’s a Splicer, I want to know who, and why they’re in that ring.” Dante dipped his head once, exact and controlled, almost military in its precision. But the pause that followed betrayed a flicker of something more. “Zaeyeon. Do you want her briefed?” “No,” Draven said too quickly. His voice softened a fraction. “Not yet. She has enough ghosts for one night.” Dante held his gaze, eyes steady, measuring. Then he nodded and dropped back half a step, taking up his place at Draven’s flank like the shadow he had chosen to be. The fights would be ugly. They always were. But this wasn’t about one Splicer in a ring. This was about a sickness crawling its way back into the world. And Draven wasn’t going to let it spread. Draven’s office was dim, lit only by the pale glow of monitors and the small desk lamp casting long shadows across stacks of reports. Maps and files littered the desk; fragmented intelligence on black-market labs, whispers of Splicer trafficking, and now, the underground fights. He leaned over the table, scanning the latest intel Dante had delivered. The Dockside location was flagged, cross-referenced against movement reports from Frost’s known associates. Nothing concrete, but enough to stink of danger. Dante stood at his shoulder, arms crossed, the image of restrained tension. “You’ll need eyes on the ground,” he said finally. His voice was calm, even, but the weight beneath it was unmistakable. “Let me run point with you.” Draven shook his head. “No. Not this time. I need you here.” Dante’s brow furrowed, faint but visible. “Here?” “Someone has to keep this place locked down while I’m gone. If the Dockside ring is what I think it is, Frost isn’t going to stop at one fight. He’ll want us watching. He’ll want me drawn out. I won’t risk the compound.” Dante’s jaw flexed, the first real crack in his composure. “You left me behind when you went for Zaeyeon too.” Draven looked up from the desk, meeting his gaze. He hadn’t expected Dante to say it outright. There was no accusation in the words, but there was something sharper underneath: a quiet ache, the frustration of loyalty denied. “You’re my shield, Dante,” Draven said evenly. “When I step out there, I need to know this place is untouchable. That means you. I’m just doing recon. Nothing more.” For a long moment, silence stretched between them. Dante’s eyes narrowed, measuring, unwilling to yield. He wasn’t a man who begged, but the restraint in him carried the weight of an unspoken plea. “You won’t be fine,” Dante said at last, the calm of his voice edged with quiet defiance. “You’ll walk into fire and tell yourself you can walk back out. That’s who you are. And one day, you won’t.” Draven exhaled through his nose, rubbing a hand across his jaw. He stepped around the desk, resting a hand on Dante’s shoulder, a rare gesture, weighty because it wasn’t given often. “I’ve walked through worse than fire,” he said, voice low but steady. “And I’m still here. You have my back from here. That’s the only way this works.” Dante’s eyes flicked to the hand, then back to Draven’s face. The storm inside him was silent but real. Finally, with a tight nod, he yielded. “Fine,” he said, voice clipped. “But if you don’t come back, I’ll burn the Dockside ring to the ground myself.” A faint, almost imperceptible smirk touched Draven’s mouth. “That’s why I need you here. Someone has to keep the fire waiting.” Dante didn’t smile back, but the ghost of approval lingered in his silence. Draven turned back to the maps, already planning routes and contingencies. Recon only, at least that was what he told Dante. But in his gut, he knew better. Nothing about the Dockside fights would end clean. |
| The compound felt alive in ways Zaeyeon couldn’t quite put into words. She walked the halls after dinner, hands brushing the cool steel walls, her ears catching fragments of laughter and voices from the training floor below. Recruits were sparring, the sound of padded blows and barked encouragement echoing through the space. To anyone else, it might’ve sounded like chaos. To her, it was order. Survival turned into routine. Still, she couldn’t shake the tension buzzing under her skin. Like static waiting for a spark. Draven had shown her around earlier, explaining the layout of the training rooms, med bay, armory, and common quarters. He’d spoken with his usual clipped calm, but she knew him too well. His voice had carried the subtle weight it always did before he went hunting trouble. Now, moving past the observation window, she caught sight of the recruits again. Two sparring with electrified batons. Another running drills with weighted harnesses. They weren’t like her, not like Draven. Most weren’t spliced, they were human kids who had chosen to fight alongside the G6 Unlimited. She admired that. Envied it, even. Choice. A flicker of movement caught her eye. Through the glass across the hall, Draven stood in his office, bent over maps and screens. Dante stood with him, posture rigid, every line of his body humming with controlled restraint. They weren’t just reviewing notes. She knew the look in Dante’s stance, the set of Draven’s jaw. Something was happening. And she wasn’t part of it. Zaeyeon turned away from the window before they could see her. She told herself it didn’t matter, that she had enough to deal with, enough ghosts of her own. But the truth pressed harder with every step back toward her room: She hated being left behind. In her quarters, she lay back on the bed Draven had made ready for her. It was simple but thoughtful, the sheets freshly laundered, a small desk stocked with tools she might like. He remembered the way she’d liked to work, even when she was drowning in what she hated about herself. Her throat tightened. She pressed her palms flat against the blanket, sparks of faint blue static dancing between her fingertips. She tried to force them back, tried to breathe slow and steady, but the thought kept gnawing at her. Draven was preparing for something dangerous. And she wasn’t sure if this time, he’d walk back through that door. |
| How Cam had ended up at the dockside that night in the rain, he could hardly say himself. After work one night he’d been approached by a guy, the kind of absolutely average looking guy who could disappear into a crowd even without superpowers. He plainly and with the chillest smile told Cam he knew who and what he was. Cam had thought he’d been hiding so well for so long, and now this random guy shows up and says he knew everything? But the guy said he wasn’t here to cause problems. In fact, he was a big “fan” of one of the OG “splicers” themselves. Cam felt a little sick in the stomach at that, even though he didn’t know why. The man knew too much for Cam to deny it. Had he seriously grown so lazy that someone like this could find him? Someone who, by their own admission at the very least, said that they, regrettably, had no powers? But they knew people, they said. Knew people who knew people. People who might be able to get him some answers. “Answers to what, exactly?” Cam had said, feeling irritated that his privacy had been so rudely shot to pieces. “They’re your questions, bro,” the man laughed and shrugged. The guy, who introduced himself simply as “Cho”, could, by his personality and style, easily be dismissed as some stoner or surfer dude. Except, in his eyes, Cam was very aware of a dangerous intelligence. He wouldn’t tell him why he was following him or for how long it had been going on, but Cam knew that this final reveal had not come at random. His “surveillance” would end tonight, with no going back. Cho told him he knew some very influential people who dealt in “their” (“splicers”) realm and that they might be able to do something for him. The “what”, was vague. But after being approached for what he was for the first time in, well, hell, since everything blew up… he couldn’t ignore it. And so he found himself in dark jeans, sneakers, a ratty baseball cap, and a black hoodie and sunglasses standing in the rain outside a kind of warehouse or the like out at the docks. But instead of a quiet storage unit, the place, the people, the lights and music coming from inside – it was like it was a nightclub. “There you are!” Cho had been by the door under an awning, and he came over, flinging a hand around Cam’s shoulders like they were old friends and leading him inside. Cam didn’t like the touch. “Was almost getting scared you weren’t coming.” “I almost didn’t,” Cam murmured, wishing the guy would give him some space. If he thought that was bad, he was hit with immediate sensory overload inside. Two of his three “triangle” eyes already made him a little more light sensitive, and his pointy ears were sharp in more than one meaning of the word. Again, his first impressive was some club. People were dancing, drinking – rich people too, seemingly, if their clothes were any indication. And there was something else, someone writing and erasing numbers on a chalkboard. Betting on something? “I’ll go see if some of my friends are here and I’ll introduce ya,” Cho said, suddenly disappearing in the crowd. Maybe this had been a mistake – Suddenly a very out of place sound hit Cam’s ears, even over the loud music. It sounded like… A roar. Yes, there was a narrator too, calling the shots like there was some sort of prize fight going on. Cam pushed through the crowd until he stopped, his jaw dropping. In the middle of a metal fighting ring, a big guy with no shirt and mutton chops was bobbing and weaving against a bear. But no, through the brown and red hair and the malformations and the claws – it wasn’t a bear. It was a person! Genetically modified to be certain, but still a human being. But by the rabid, happy screaming from the crowd as that poor creature took a hard right hook from the man, you would think it was only an animal after all. It roared again, and Cam was expecting it to swat the guy’s head off. But it didn’t. It just gave a halfhearted swipe before getting hit again. Cam covered his ears against the cheers, and against the strangely empathic feeling he was getting seeing that “splicer” so hurt, so disvalued. Then he saw it, the light of a short chain on the bear-man’s girthy ankle. He was even chained down! This wasn’t a fight. This was abuse. And he knew all about that. “Leave,” an internal voice in his head said evenly, a voice, and a word, that had kept him protected and alive for all of this time. It was a mistake to come here. This wasn’t his fight. But when he heard a roar of pain this time, he felt his blood pressure rising quickly with his anger, his breathing increasing. If this bear-man (and Cam was, for some reason, quite sure he was spliced with something else too) wanted to make an exhibition of himself and make some money beating people up, his life, his choice. But like Cam’s very existence, this wasn’t a choice. Stronger than he looked, Cam shoved his way through the crowd. At the base of the ring, he shouted for them to stop, but no one could hear him, so he climbed into the ring himself, and that certainly got everyone’s attention. He felt his heartbeat quicken in fear and vulnerability as he suddenly found all eyes on him, a place he never wanted to be. Still, he had a hood and hat and shades, and for good measure, he “put on his latest look”, at least on his face. He left his hand their normal color, which was almost glove white anyway. People yelled for him to get off the stage, popcorn was thrown, and the beefy man with the mutton chops swore at him. “What the hell you doing?” Up close, Cam could see the numerous scars that crisscrossed the bear-man, and even worse… the seeming hopelessness in his eyes. Cam tilted his sunglasses down just an inch and only for an instant so that the bear-man could see his eyes – all four of them – and to hopefully convey that he was here to help, and he saw the surprise in the bear-man’s eyes. “I’m talkin’ to you.” Cam felt himself shoved back by a push to his chest from the man. “Leave.” The man blinked at him. “What?” “You heard me,” Cam said. The man laughed. “Are you going to make me?” The man held out his arms, and the people cheered again, the announcer saying there appeared to be a surprise guest in the ring, as if this was all planned. “If I have to,” Cam said. “Let’s see it, then.” As Cam refused to make the first strike, the man lunged first, and Cam dodged. He dodged the second one, but not a quick third, which was a painful strike to the face. Cam looked to the bear-man, wondering why he wasn’t helping. Even with the leg chain, he could certainly reach that far. That’s when he realized the punch had broken his glasses and they lay in two pieces on the floor. Luckily, he was able to pull up his disguise before he himself was pulled up by his jacket. He’d never liked fighting. Dr. D had taught him of course, but he’d always proved a bit of a disappointment, excelling more in defense and defensive takedowns. Unless he was very, very angry, Cam just didn’t want to fight. He didn’t like hurting people. Also, he was out of practice. But right now, he was getting his ass kicked by some rich sociopath, and he wasn’t going to let that slide. So in a quick move, he grabbed and twisted the man’s arm behind his back, temporarily debilitating him. The crowd booed and cheered, and bets were made and changed. Cam released him and the man stumbled a few feet. Cam had hoped he’d just take a hint, but the man looked both angry and drunk, so that probably wasn’t going to happen. “What’s your deal, man?” Mutton chops spat. “You’re torturing a defenseless person, ‘man’,” Cam said. “That’s not a person,” the guy jabbed a thumb towards the still frustratingly immobile hybrid, “That’s a freak. An animal.” Cam felt his teeth grind and his hair bristle. “So why don’t you go back to PETA and let us have our fun,” the man said. A dangerous quirk of a smile passed Cam’s lips, but just for a second. “Oh, I think this will be fun.” The man lunged, but Cam sidestepped and elbowed him in the back so he fell to the filthy arena floor. Cam let him stand and try again, but this time, Cam quickly moved behind him and got the guy in a defensive hold with his arms stuck on the back of his neck. It was not a comfortable position. He struggled but couldn’t get away. “Are you having fun yet?” Cam said into his ear. “Let me go you psycho!” “Leave,” Cam growled, his voice almost inhuman, “Leave and don’t come back.” After a minute, the man finally nodded, and Cam released him. The crowd wasn’t sure who won, but soon everything was in confusion as the sound of sirens broke through the thumping music, and everyone started to scatter. Apparently, the cops had been called. Cam dropped to his knees at the bear-man’s feet and quickly pulled a Swiss army knife. The man jerked back. “Don’t worry,” Cam assured him, “I won’t hurt you.” He felt the man relax a little as the place descended into a madhouse around them. He had the thing unlocked in seconds, and stood. “Okay,” Cam breathed as he headed for a wall of the cage, “I think we should take that door. Might lead to the alley.” “I’m not going.” Cam turned back at the quiet voice. The man hadn’t moved a muscle. “What are you talking about? We have to get out of here.” The man just shook his head. Cam almost thought he might have seen a tear… but he couldn’t wait. Cam shook his own head at him, and then jumped over the wall of the cage and into the frantic crowd. Pulling his hood up, he weaved this way and that, and took the door that did in fact lead to the alley. He exhaled, and he saw his breath as a mist. It had stopped the raining. “Hey.” He saw the mutton-chop man, now with a shirt at least. Cam rolled his eyes. “Come on –” He froze when the guy pulled a gun. He must be crazier and drunker than he’d thought. “You think you can make a fool of me like that?” “I think you were doing a pretty good job of that yourself,” came a voice from behind the man, before he knocked him out with a calculated blow. The dark made it hard to see the details of the figure, but there was no denying that Cam had heard that voice before. Never very closely. And a very long, long, long time ago. No… “D-draven?” |
| (Okay! So I guess it's time for an official bio) Name: Chameleon ("Cam") 64 (Named after "Dr. D's" favorite video game console, the Nintendo 64) (His skills, aka role in the group: subterfuge, defensive combat) Age: 26 Appearance: Cam was grown in a lab, and he looks like something that would come out of one. He has pale skin, no hair, pointed ears, one sharp canine on top, and one on the bottom. He also has four eyes (not the glasses kind). The eye on the left side is normal and icy blue -- the other three, smaller and configured like a triangle, are of different animals and uses. Abilities/Weaknesses: He can change physical shape (think Mystique), fit through anything he can fit his head through, and due to his eyes has good night vision and activatable heat vision | Keeping a changed shape is difficult, especially if he has to change into someone whose figure is smaller than him (a woman, for example), and it can be painful. Not only that, but the longer he remains "changed" he begins to experience a kind of "allergic reaction" to his own powers, resulting in a purple rash that can give him away. Also, his light/heat abilities leave him vulnerable to being blinded by bright lights. Personality:Cam tends to stick with what he knows -- isolation. But when he sees people being hurt, he usually experiences more of a compulsion to help them. He listens more than he talks, and often feels out of place, even with people who are more "like him", genetically speaking. He doesn't dislike anyone in the G6U, even if they don't like him. The biggest, deepest truth is that he does want to be in real relationships, friends, and, yes, romance. But he fears he's too misunderstood and ugly for that to ever happen. So his life has become a sort of neutral existence, maybe a bit low-key pessimistic as he doesn't forsee his life changing. History: Unlike most of the other children, Cam was a test-tube baby, emerging as a deformed creature at a "teenage" age. A Frankenstein's monster. It was only one year into his life that he was even ever exposed to a mirror, and he was horrified. But Dr. D called him "beautiful". He was kept from most of the other children, kept in isolation. He saw them a few times, usually from afar, and though he had no idea of the differences in their treatment than his, he had a bit of jealousy because he couldn't experience a relationship with them. And, because they all looked different, and some could even control their animal appearance at times, he couldn't. Not really, or at least, not for very long. Some of them looked quite humans sometimes, and he didn't, unless he was using his "chameleon" powers. And when he wasn't, he would return to being... himself. And then that fateful night of escape happened, and he had to make a choice. Unable to see them suffer and knowing this was likely their only chance of freedom, he messed with some of the computers, opening doors for them and disabling certain securities. He was by no means a techie, but it was surprisingly easy. So, in one moment he could never go back from, he had betrayed Dr. D, whom he had often seen as a father figure. But then it was all over, and for the first time he experienced grass and trees -- the outside. Some of the kids stuck together, others left alone. He was one of the latter group, and he's spent his last few years working low-level jobs and changing identities here and there, wishing for something to change but not believing it really would. Anything additional you'd like for Cam to be portrayed properly: He's not expecting a warm welcome from any of the others, because of his generally positive feelings for Dr. D, and because they don't know what he did for them that night. And he has no desire to tell them, as he wants them to care for him, not for something he did, but for him just being him. When he's alone, he drops the chameleon act and is trying to work up the courage to do the same with others. Besides that, he's frequently trying out new "skins" out of curiosity, which can make it difficult to spot him around the compound. He does, however, get the purple hives when he stays in a form too long, and he has a Dr. D custom special nanite suit that changes his "clothes" as well, as long as he's wearing the nanite suit and no other clothes. (Also, he still likes to play video games. Mario Party, anyone?) Final note, he has no idea he actually has Dr. D's DNA in him, and definitely doesn't know he has a sister. Whenever it's revealed he'll probably feel a mix of happiness at having a sibling, and maybe some jealousy because she is the doctor's actual kid, which makes him feel a bit of a prototype, even though the differences between them are huge. Sorry this was a novel lol |
| The man in the alley moved like prey —cornered, desperate— his back slamming against wet brick as the brute lunged. Draven closed the distance before the fight even began. His fist hammered the thug’s throat, a follow-up sweep crashing him to the pavement, twitching. Quick. Efficient. And then Draven froze. The survivor pressed against the wall wasn’t a stranger. Not even close. The scent was different now, but familiar. Too familiar. Amber gold eyes locked on a face he didn’t recognize, but the truth hit his instincts before his mind caught up. “Cam.” The name left him rough, almost painful. Cam’s jaw went slack. For a heartbeat, his form flickered, shedding its disguise, and Draven saw the boy he remembered, hidden away from the others, one of Dr. D’s “special projects.” “I thought you were...” Cam swallowed hard, unable to finish dead. Draven didn’t answer. Couldn’t. His instincts screamed to move, to clear the alley, but something deeper held him rooted. His gaze swept Cam instead, tension in his shoulders, anger in his eyes. But alive. Against all odds, alive. “You shouldn’t be here,” Draven said finally. Cam barked a brittle laugh. “You think I want to be here? You think I planned for this?” He jabbed a finger toward the warehouse where sirens wailed closer. “They’re chaining us up. Fighting us for sport. You know what that feels like, don’t you?” The words struck harder than any fist. Memories slammed back; blood on concrete, Gabriel’s scream, the lab doors locking shut. Draven forced his face still, but Cam saw the flinch anyway. A metallic crash erupted from the warehouse, cutting the moment short. Shadows spilled out, voices barking orders. Not cops. Clean-up crew. Whoever ran this pit wasn’t leaving witnesses. The beast inside Draven surged awake. Bones lengthened, muscles tore and reformed, black fur bristled with streaks of brown and a blaze of orange across his chest. The hood ripped free as he rose, monstrous and towering, the air vibrating with his snarl. “Stay behind me,” his voice rumbled, distorted by the change. “I can fight,” Cam snapped, fear sharpening into defiance. Draven’s slitted gaze pinned him. “Then fight smart. No hesitation.” The first two men rounded the corner. Draven moved faster than sight, claws shredded one rifle to scrap before hurling its wielder into brick. The second lifted a blade, but Draven’s howl detonated through the alley, concussive and primal. The man dropped, ears bleeding, body crumpling. Cam didn’t freeze. He swept another attacker’s legs, drove an elbow into his jaw, and sent him sprawling. Draven spared him a glance, not surprised at the skill, but at the fire. The boy he remembered was gone. This was someone who had survived. Alone. Dangerous. And for the first time in years, something stirred in Draven’s chest besides rage and discipline. A faint curl of a smile tugged at his muzzle. “Still know how to survive,” he growled. Cam’s chest heaved, eyes wide but steady. “Yeah, well. Guess I had a good teacher.” The words cut deep, reopening scars Draven had long buried. But boots thundered closer, enemies flooding into the night. No time for ghosts. Draven jerked his head toward the street. “Move. We’ll talk later.” Cam hesitated, then nodded. ~ ~ ~ They broke into the open street, lungs burning. Sirens wailed, red-blue lights scattering across slick pavement. At the alley’s end, Cam doubled over, hands on his knees. “There was a guy,” he said between gasps. “In the cage. Chained. Like us. He...he didn’t fight back. He didn’t even try. Wouldn’t leave.” Draven’s head snapped toward him, eyes flaring gold. Cam forced the words out. “He wanted to. I could see it. But he couldn’t.” A low growl rumbled in Draven’s chest. Whoever ran this place wasn’t just torturing splicers, they were keeping them on a leash. Someone had their hooks in deep. Rage surged hot, washing out the rain chill. Draven turned, claws flexing. “Stay here,” he snarled, already stalking back. “Like hell I’m staying,” Cam shot back, but Draven was already gone, a black blur cutting into the neon chaos. ~ ~ ~ Inside, the warehouse had erupted. Patrons stampeded for exits, chairs and bottles smashed underfoot. Security barked orders, but Draven cut through them like a living blade. Claws shredded steel, fur bristled as muzzle flashes sparked harmlessly against skin that wouldn’t break. And then he saw him. Kael. Bigger than Draven remembered, but the same sharp, desperate eyes. Cornered, three men with rifles closing in. Draven didn’t think. He moved. The first gunman had no time to scream. Draven’s claws tore him open and flung him clear. The second fired, but Draven’s howl detonated in the cavernous hall, stunning him long enough for claws to crush weapon and ribs alike. The third spun his barrel; only for Cam, hood up and eyes blazing, to smash into him from behind. Kael’s mouth fell open. “Draven?” For a beat, he couldn’t breathe. Then his voice cracked. “You have to help me. Please. They have Felicia.” Draven’s jaw tightened. Felicia; the falcon hybrid. Fierce. Loyal. Always at Kael’s side. “Victor Carloff,” Kael spat, hate twisting his face. “He’s been holding her. Two years. If I don’t do what he says, he kills her.” Draven’s fur bristled. “How do you know she’s still alive?” Kael’s voice shook, but didn’t break. “Because every time I think about fighting back, they bring her. Just long enough to remind me.” Draven’s claws curled into fists. His growl rattled scaffolding above. “Then we take Carloff down.” Cam climbed into the ring, blood on his lip, fire in his eyes. “We? You planning on leaving me out of this too?” Draven looked between them, Kael trembling, Cam defiant, and felt something stir. The faintest echo of a pack. His eyes narrowed. “First, we get Felicia. Then Carloff pays.” The warehouse shook as another squad stormed in. “Here they come,” Cam muttered. Draven’s claws slid free with a metallic rasp. “Good. Let’s give them something to fear.” ~ ~ ~ A lance of electricity arced through the warehouse, slamming into the squad before they could fire. Guns sparked and dropped, radios fried to silence. Boots skidded, screams tangled in the chaos. Zaeyeon stepped through the smoke, hair whipping, palms still alive with charge. Her bioluminescent veins burned neon against the dark, eyes a storm barely contained. “You know I hate being left out of the loop, big brother,” she said, voice low and furious, every word humming with electricity. Draven felt it more than heard it, the relief, the protectiveness, the dangerous comfort of her presence. A sound rumbled from his chest, half-snarl, half-laugh, before he launched into the fray. Zaeyeon didn’t follow. She stood at the ring’s edge and became a conduit. Blue arcs leapt from her fingers to the cage, frying circuits, killing the power. Lights died, weapons sparked out, and the last of the crowd shrieked in blind confusion. Draven hit the flank like a freight train, claws and fury scattering men while Kael dropped to his knees, fumbling at the chain on his ankle. Cam slipped through the chaos toward the control room. Kael’s raw voice broke through the noise, calling for Felicia as he shoved the door open. And Draven, even through the din, heard the desperation in it. ~ ~ ~ Draven’s ears still rang from Zaeyeon’s lightning strike, the smell of ozone and scorched concrete clinging to the air. Kael was shaken but steadied himself quickly, jaw set with the kind of focus only desperation could bring. Cam gave a sharp nod toward a steel stairwell at the far end of the underground arena. “That’s the way to the control room,” Cam said, voice low but urgent. “If she’s here, that’s where they’re keeping her.” Draven’s amber eyes narrowed, chest still rising and falling heavy in his beast form. He could smell Kael’s fear like copper on the wind. They moved fast, boots and claws echoing through the dim stairwell. Alarms were beginning to blare, red strobes painting the walls in harsh flashes. This area was apparently powered separately from the other half of the underground club. Draven kept himself ahead of the younger three, his frame nearly filling the stairwell. More than once, he stopped short, ears flicking at the faint sound of approaching guards, but the halls were strangely empty, as though someone wanted them to make it to the top. At the reinforced door, Kael drew in a ragged breath. Zaeyeon stepped forward. “I got this,” She reached her hand out just above the electronic keypad using his abilities to disable the door. The lock disengaged with a heavy thunk, and the door groaned open. ~ ~ ~ The control room was colder than the rest of the compound, the hum of machinery pulsing like a heartbeat. Rows of monitors lined the wall, each one displaying a different angle of cages, cells, and fighting pits. And there, on the central screen, Felicia. She was strapped upright in a containment frame, her wings folded harshly behind her back, feathers dulled and ragged from neglect. Electrodes ran across her arms and temples, her body trembling with each pulse of current that surged through the machine. Her eyes; bright, falcon-gold fluttered open for only a moment before she slumped again. Kael staggered forward, one hand pressed against the glass of the screen as if he could will himself through it. His voice broke when he spoke. “She’s alive...I told you she was alive.” Zaeyeon went to work on the computer system tracing the signal of the camera’s where Felicia was being held. Carloff hadn’t just captured Felicia. He’d made her into bait. “Then we’re getting her out,” Draven growled, voice rumbling like a distant storm. “No matter what it takes.” The fire in Draven’s chest pulsed hotter, like embers catching wind. His claws dug into the console’s edge until steel shrieked under the pressure. “Then we tear this place down,” he growled, voice deep as a storm. “We make Carloff regret ever touching her.” The room answered with alarms. Sirens wailed, red light washing over their faces as Carloff’s voice bled through the intercom, smooth and venomous. “So. The lost dog comes crawling back. And look...you’ve brought company.” Outside, steel doors slammed. Boots thundered in cadence, the air stinking of gun oil and sweat. Draven stepped in front of the others, shoulders squared. “Stay behind me.” But Kael was already changing. The bear in him surged free, muscle ballooning under skin, brown hair flooding across his arms, hands splitting into massive paws capped with claws. The growl that escaped his throat made the floor tremble. Cam pressed flat to the console, his form shifting fluid as his four eyes swept exits and angles. At the same time, Zaeyeon’s hands danced over the keyboard, overriding locks, rerouting power. Her other hand sparked with contained lightning. She raised it just as the first wave stormed in. Rifles roared. Bullets ricocheted off Draven’s hide like hail on steel. He lunged, claws flashing, bodies flung into walls. His howl ripped through the corridor, a concussive shockwave that cracked glass and dropped men bleeding from the ears. Zaeyeon unleashed her strike in tandem, a pulse of blue electricity tearing through the squad and frying their weapons into useless scrap. Somewhere behind the screens, Felicia’s monitor flickered, the restraints in her chamber losing power. “Move!” Draven barked, snapping a rifle in half and hurling its wielder into the wall. Kael charged through the opening with brute precision, sweeping soldiers aside like saplings. Cam flowed past, his body narrowing to slip between armored men before reforming, prying doors with serrated arms. Together they forced a path toward the reinforced wing where Felicia waited. The corridor strobed red, the world a warzone of shadows and flashes. Doors slammed shut behind them, but Cam’s shifting wedge of an arm jammed the seals, forcing them open with a tortured groan. “She’s close,” Draven growled, nostrils flaring. Felicia’s scent was faint, battered, but alive, was thickening in the air. It drove him faster, claws scoring the walls as he ran. They rounded the corner, and froze. Not men this time. Mech-suits stood shoulder-to-shoulder, plated in steel and bristling with shock batons, net cannons, and reinforced shields. The soldiers inside moved with brutal confidence, their calm as manufactured as their weapons. Kael’s breath caught, his massive frame stiffening. “They’re using her as bait.” Draven bared his fangs. His voice came out a snarl: “Then let them choke on it.” He charged. The hallway erupted into chaos. |
| The rain met her like an embrace the second she hit the streets. It slicked her hair to her cheeks, streaked her lashes, drummed a rhythm against her skin. She smiled despite herself. There was something about rain, something alive, familiar. Maybe it was the eel in her blood, the way the storm woke it, made her veins sing. She let it out. Sparks rolled over her arms, arcing between her fingertips; the puddles at her feet trembled and glowed. With a breath, she bent her knees, surged forward, and the water carried her. She slid like lightning made flesh, skating across the flooded streets, the city blurring into silver and neon. By the time she reached the docks, her chest ached from the run, but her power pulsed stronger than ever. The smell of salt, oil, and gunpowder hit her nose. Then, there it was. A wail that made her bones vibrate. Draven’s howl. She followed it, boots splashing up the steps of the warehouse, light crackling off her like a storm given form. And when she stepped into the doorway, she froze. Draven and the others were already locked in chaos, soldiers swarming like hornets, rifles flashing. A young man she didn’t know darted between shadows, Kael’s bulk tore through lines, but the sheer numbers, they were being swallowed. Something in her chest snapped. Anger lit her blood on fire. The storm inside her broke free. Electricity erupted across her body, blue-white and wild, sparking off the walls. The air itself hummed as her power surged, hair floating around her face. “You know I hate being left out of the loop, big brother,” she said, her voice edged with thunder. Draven’s chest heaved as his claws ripped through steel as the hallway shook with alarms. Soldiers reeled. It was during their brief reprieve from the fighting Draven introduced her to Cam. She knew Kael from the institute. But it was Cam that had her full attention. Draven had explained that Cam shared their background with Dr.D. Zaeyeon had frozen with that revelation because she knew of Cam, she knew about everything that happened to him. She…saw the videos of all that happened to him and the sweet lies that her father told him. After Draven had made sure everyone was saved from the evil clutches of Dr.D. Zaeyeon had gotten into her father’s files. The mere thought that Dr.D was her father filled her with such guilt and disgust. Still, she had gotten into his files and learned of everything that her father worked on and with whom. She witnessed the cruelty of Dr.D’s practices all for the sake of his own grand design. It was here that she learned of her brother. One of them at least. Cam was so innocent and trusting, but their father hurt him all the same. Her throat tightened, electricity still trembling around her hands. Cam wasn’t just another hybrid. He was her father’s victim...and her brother. ~ ~ ~ The hallway thundered as Draven launched forward, a black furry storm of claws and fury. Zaeyeon barely had time to brace before the shockwave of his howl rattled her teeth. The mech-suits advanced, servos hissing, their footsteps shaking the metal floor like a death march. Zaeyeon’s body hummed in reply. The storm wanted out. Her skin prickled with light, arcs dancing across her shoulders and snapping from fingertip to fingertip. She slid one foot back, bent her knees, and let the rain-slick steel under her boots carry her forward. The first mech swung a shock baton the size of a tree trunk. She dropped low, sparks spraying from her palms as she skated under the swing. The smell of scorched ozone filled her nose as she reached up and slapped her hand against the mech’s knee joint. Electricity roared out of her like a tidal wave. Blue-white light spiderwebbed up the mech’s frame. The pilot inside screamed as the suit bucked, lights flickering, servos locking. The machine collapsed sideways with a crash that shook the corridor. Her chest heaved. One down. Another mech pivoted, hydraulics whining, net launcher snapping open. Zaeyeon twirled, boots sliding across a sheen of water. The net fired, glittering steel arcs meant to pin her down, but she spun with a whip of her arm, current exploding outward. The net caught the blast midair, liquefying into molten shrapnel before it hit her. She grinned through the sweat dripping into her eyes. “Nice try, tin can.” Draven tore through another suit like it was paper, his claws slicing through plating. Kael smashed two soldiers into the walls, his bear strength unstoppable. Cam darted ahead, melting into the seams of another mech, tearing at its internals with frightening precision. Zaeyeon felt her pulse sync with theirs, the team’s momentum becoming her own. But then… The remaining suits shifted tactics. Their chest plates hissed open, revealing canisters glowing with sickly green light. A sharp hiss filled the corridor. Gas began spilling into the air. Zaeyeon’s throat caught. Not just gas; suppression mist. She could feel it gnawing at the edges of her power, smothering the arcs dancing across her arms. “Draven!” she shouted, voice cracking against the alarms. “Suppression gas!” He roared in answer, fur bristling, eyes wild as he wrenched the head from another mech. The storm inside Zaeyeon screamed against the pressure closing in, fighting to stay alive. Zaeyeon’s head snapped toward a sound just as the corridor filled with three more mech-suits, hulking and armored, shoulder lights glaring like predators in the dark. One stepped forward, vents hissing before it belched a cloud of suppression gas that spread in a choking veil. Cam coughed, caught too close. He staggered back, his skin already twitching and reshaping in panic. The mech raised a stun baton thick as a steel beam, arcs of pale current licking along its edge. Zaeyeon’s gut clenched. Instinct roared louder than thought. “Cam!” she shouted. Electricity flared across her arms, blue bolts crackling through the fog. She cut across the battlefield in a surge of water and light, sliding on a sheet of rain-slick concrete. Her power snapped outward, striking the baton mid-swing. The jolt overloaded its circuits with a burst like fireworks, sparks cascading down the mech’s plated arm. She planted herself in front of Cam, shoulders squared, body humming like a live wire. The gas curled around her, but broke apart under the heat of her current. Her voice was low, dangerous. “You don’t get to touch him.” The mech staggered, recalibrating, but she didn’t give it a chance. Electricity coiled up her arms and burst forward, lashing against its chest plate in a blinding crack. The machine convulsed under the surge, systems whining, before it toppled back into its squad mates with a crash that rattled the walls. She clenched her fists, grounding herself in the water still coursing beneath her boots. And then she let go. The corridor became a lightning storm. She lost herself in her power taking the rest of the mech suits out. After this she passed out. |
| Draven had been the last person he’d been expecting to show up in the cold alleyway. Draven, the leader. From what little Cam had seen of him, he always had been the leader of the kids. But that didn’t mean he could tell him what to do. “Stay behind me,” Draven said. Cam would be lying if he said he wasn’t impressed, afraid even, of the man turning into a hulking beast right in front of him. How was this possible? “I can fight,” Cam said, defiant. “Then fight smart. No hesitation.” As it happened, “fighting smart” was Cam’s specialty. Almost immediately, some sort of soldiers rounded the corner in the alleyway. Whatever confusing feelings he felt about the man, he was an absolute beast the way he took people out. And was Cam mistaken when he thought he saw the glint of metal on Draven’s claws? Cam took another soldier out with a quick move. “Still know how to survive,” Draven said with just the slightest of smiles. Cam was trying to steady his breathing. “Yeah, well, I guess I had a good teacher.” He wasn’t sure why he’d said something so mean. He usually wasn’t a vindictive person. It had just come out. He thought he saw a flash of pain in Draven’s eyes. But then he was all business. “Move. We’ll talk later.” “Moving” to Draven apparently meant full-on sprinting down the street, Cam struggling to keep up with him and having to catch his breath again. Not knowing how he’d forgotten, he told Draven about the bear-guy in the ring that he’d tried to free but wouldn’t come with him. “Stay here,” Draven growled as he began to stalk back from where they’d just run from. “Like hell I’m staying!” He’d been involved in this before Draven had even shown up. But without hesitation, Draven had run off in-humanly quickly. As Cam glanced around, he realized he had a choice to make. He hadn’t come into this thing to have to end up fighting for his own life. Why had he intervened in the bear-guy’s fate? Why hadn’t he listened to his thoughts of self-preservation that had kept him alive these last ten years. His sharp ears picked up what sounded like gunshots from where the warehouse was. “Damn it!” As he finally got back to the warehouse, he saw Draven take out two guys with rifles pretty dang easily, but there was one behind he didn’t see. Knowing this was going to hurt, Cam tackled the third guy to the floor, quickly dislocating the man’s shoulder and then smashing his head into the ground. When the guy woke up with a hell of a headache, his injured shoulder would prevent him but using his rifle. Cam got up and cracked his neck. Tackling someone always hurt. It appeared the two men knew each other. And at least now he knew why the bear guy – Kael? – had refused to come with him. These people had his girl. Fortunately, Cam would never have to worry about feeling that special kind of insanity for himself. So this Victor Carloff had been keeping this man chained up in more ways than one. “Then we take Carloff down,” Draven growled. Cam, wiping blood off his lip – a black blue kind of blood – climbed back into the ring. “We? You planning on leaving me out of this, too?” Draven looked at them for a long moment, and Cam saw something in his eyes he’d never seen before, nor understood. “First, we get Felicia. Then Carloff pays,” Draven said finally. Cam heard boots approaching. “Here they come,” he muttered. “Good. Let’s give them something to fear.” But just as they were readying for a fight, suddenly a stream of electricity passed them, taking out the entire first team. What the hell? A girl stepped through the smoke, hair whipping, palms still alive with charge. Her bioluminescent veins burned neon against the dark, eyes a storm barely contained. She seemed an electric angel. “You know I hate being left out of the loop, big brother,” she said. She didn’t sound happy. Draven had a sister? Or was was it one of those cult things where everyone was “brother” and “sister”? He could see Draven pulling together that loyalty, and not even on purpose. But Cam wasn’t here to drink the Kool-Aid. During the brief reprieve, Draven had introduced Cam and Kael to the girl Zaeyeon, saying they were both Dr. D’s projects, like her. But she was entirely focused on Cam. She had a look of total surprise on her face, and he wasn’t sure why she looked so shocked until he remembered that at this point he’d dropped his “chameleon” act to save energy, and probably looked pretty dang scary. After this night, he was out. But more men were coming. Done with fighting for now, he decided to do a little recon, slipping through the madness, finding what seemed to be a control room. It was locked, so how did he know it was a control room? For one, he could hear the faint buzz of electronics inside. Secondly, it was reinforced – why would a normal room be reinforced? And finally, it was exactly like the door that he’d had to get through back at the labs to help everyone escape that night… that night… He emerged and shared his information, and the room seemingly clear for now, they followed him, and the girl, with a confident “I got this,” just waved her hand above the electronic keypad, and it opened. There were a lot of surveillance screens in the control room, and soon things got freaky, as Carloff’s voice came from… somewhere, to mock them. His smarmy “So. The lost dog comes crawling back. And look...you’ve brought company.” Seemed a pretty good indication that he and Draven had met before. Cam felt his heart twinge when he saw the poor girl with the wings strapped to the chair. Was that what the others had experienced while he was in his room, playing with toys? Cam temporarily covered his sensitive ears and the three eyes on the right side as alarms began to go off and red lights strobed the room. Pressed against the console, he looked around for any possible escape routes. Somehow already getting used to the impossible, he watched as Kale shifted into the bear form that he’d met him in. Cam sighed. It was time for more fighting. And they didn’t have to wait long to face it, as more soldiers were coming for them. Bullets flew, bears and wolves roared, and electricity all made a path, Cam sacrificing a good amount of pain not once, but twice, to keep two doors open until they reached the main part of the warehouse once more, the place with the ring. If he’d thought things had been bad before, all hell had literally just broken loose. All of a sudden, there were these hulking Star Wars rejects with lots of weapons and very tough-looking armor. It was absolute chaos. Draven and Kael were literally ripping these things to shreds, and the electric girl was all over the place, skating on water and sending bolts of lightning that occasionally left white spots in his eyes. He wasn’t really made for intense fighting. He was made for – Suddenly, he heard the girl cry out, “Suppression gas!” Well, yes, suppression. Wait, suppression “gas”? Another hulking thing stepped before him, and before he could wonder too long about that, gas began to emit from the soldier-thing, and it instantly burned his lungs. He staggered back, feeling his skin change this and that color as if his powers were having a seizure. He couldn’t breathe! He saw the thing raise a thick baton that seemed to crackle with electricity. He could have stayed home and been watching TV – Then he heard the girl cry out again. “Cam!” In what seemed like seconds, she had skated over on loose water and shocked the hell out of the mech suit. Somehow she used her electricity to block the gas, and in a low, dangerous voice, he heard her say, “You don’t get to touch him.” First, she shocked the hell out of the mech in front of them, and then every single other one in the room, ending the fight, leaving them twitching on the floor. And then, she passed out. Fortunately, Cam saw her becoming unsteady just a moment before she fell, and already on the ground himself, was able to catch her, her elbow slamming into his chest. Ow… There was something… odd. About holding her in his arms. Her face was peaceful, but… sad? “Zae!” Draven called from the other side of the room. Cam gently placed a pale hand around her wrist to check for a pulse, and then lowered one of his pointed ears to her lips. Steady pulse. Steady breathing. He was glad for that. Draven ran over with impressive rapidity. “Zae? Zae?” “She okay,” Cam said. Now, why she had risked so much to save someone she had just met, a someone who most people might be afraid of… that was the question. “Let me take her –” Draven had started to try and pick her up when Kael let out a low, pained growl from the other side of the room. “Felicia,” the man moaned. Draven seemed to be taking a long moment of frustrating option weighing. “Fine,” Draven said at last, “Kael and I should be enough to get Felicia. Then I have a call to make.” As they left for where the poor girl was imprisoned, Draven shot back a suspicious look. Cam heard gunshots not too long after, but was pretty confident that the two would be okay. He’d never seen a splicer like this girl before. Usually, like Draven and Kael, they looked generally normal until they activated their powers, and then back to normal after. There were exceptions, of course, possibly like Felicia, since her wings had been out the whole time. He wasn’t sure, though. But this Zaeyeon girl had been a freaking lightning storm, and, aside from a bluish glow, hadn’t seemed to change her appearance at all. Now getting close to her, he could see she was quite young. Maybe not even twenty. She must have been on the tail-end of Dr. D’s experiments... Soon, the two returned, Kael was carrying Felicia in his arms, and though she looked battered, she was smiling up at him. “How is she?” Draven demanded, now back in his “normal” form as he strode over to them. “I’m not a doctor,” Cam said, “But I think she’ll be fine –” He had just stood with the intention of carrying her when Draven practically plucked her out of his arms. “Thank you,” the man said finally, “For everything you did tonight. You didn’t have to help Kael, the first or the second time. And you didn’t have to help us. But you did.” “Well, you know,” Cam shrugged and smiled, feeling sore everywhere, “I’m a helpful guy.” There was another pause between the two men. “You should come with us.” Cam frowned, confused. “Come… with you?” “There’s a place, in the mountains,” Draven continued, glancing down at Zae a moment before looking up again, “It’s a safe place for people like us.” “Is there anywhere that’s a safe place for people like us?” Cam asked after a moment. “I don’t know,” Draven said honestly, “But we could use all the help we could get.” There was a beep, and Draven looked at his phone. “That's our ride,” Draven headed for the door, “You can come if you want.” Kael carrying Felicia, and Draven, carrying Zae, made their way to the door as Cam glanced around. He was standing around in a room full of carnage. This wouldn't be easy to explain. He ran a hand through what would be hair if he had any. “Damn it,” he shook his head as he followed the others. |
| The night air hit him like a slap, wet, metallic, filled with smoke and ozone. The rain hadn’t stopped, just slowed to a hiss, washing blood and oil off his claws. He shifted back the last of his fangs, breath heavy, muscles aching. The beast wanted to stay out. It always did after a fight. But he forced it down. They moved fast through the side exit, boots splashing through puddles, Kael cradling Felicia, Cam trailing behind with that wary animal grace that said he didn’t trust anyone yet. Draven didn’t blame him. He adjusted Zaeyeon’s weight in his arms. She was still out cold, head against his chest, her hair damp and faintly glowing with residual charge. The smell of ozone clung to her like perfume. “You always overdo it, Zae,” he muttered. A flicker of movement, he froze. His enhanced senses picked up the mechanical whine before he saw them. Drones. “Company,” he said. Cam turned, eyes narrowing. “You can’t be serious.” “I’m always serious,” Draven growled. He crouched, setting Zae gently down behind a stack of shipping crates. “Kael, get Felicia and her out of the line. Cam, cover me.” “Cover you? With what, sarcasm?” Draven didn’t answer. He was already moving. The first drone rounded the corner, sleek and angular, Frost Industries design. Of course. Draven didn’t even think; he leapt, claws slashing through metal and wiring, tearing the machine apart mid-air. Two more followed. He landed in a crouch in his beast form. Then came the low whine of turbines. He looked up. A gunship. “Oh, for fuck's—” He rushed back and grabbed Zae, hauled her up again. “Run!” ~ ~ ~ They bolted through the maze of crates, Felicia groaning weakly in Kael’s arms. The gunship’s spotlight cut through the rain like a blade. Bullets tore through metal around them, sparks flying. Draven ducked behind a truck, slammed a hand against his comm unit. “Rook, we need extraction. Now.” “Already inbound,” came the calm reply. “South pier, two minutes.” “Make it one,” he snarled. Cam slid beside him, chest heaving. “You plan on us actually living through this?” Draven smirked faintly. “That’s the general idea.” He peeked around the truck, saw the gunship repositioning. The barrel began to glow. Pulse cannon. Not standard issue. Frost wasn’t testing anymore, he was hunting. Draven’s gut went cold. “Move!” The pulse hit, vaporizing half the dock in a blinding flash. The shockwave threw them forward. Draven hit the ground hard, shielding Zaeyeon with his body. Ears ringing, he pushed himself up. Kael was staggering but upright. Cam was already scanning for another route. “Rook, where the hell are you?” Before the reply could come, a roar split the night. Not from a machine, from something alive. Out of the smoke, three shapes broke from the shadows, splicers. Reinforcements. He recognized them instantly: Rook, a hulking rhino-hybrid; Vex, the falcon splicer with the temper of a storm; and Mira, the chameleon sniper who never missed. “About time you showed up,” Draven barked. Rook grinned, hefting a makeshift rocket tube onto his shoulder. “Miss us, boss?” The gunship swung its searchlight toward them, cannon charging again. Vex launched herself upward in a flash of wings, metal feathers slicing through the rain as she arced above the gunship’s rotors. Mira, already invisible against the gloom, fired three quick shots, each hitting exposed joints along the hull. Sparks danced across its plating. Then Rook pulled the trigger. The blast struck true, a thunderous hit that sent the gunship spinning sideways. Fire rolled across its side as Vex dove, slamming her electrified talons into its intake vent. The explosion bloomed like a false sunrise, scattering debris into the harbor. Draven shielded Zae again as shrapnel rained down. When the light faded, the only thing left of the gunship was black smoke and twisted metal raining into the sea. Cam whistled low. “Remind me never to tick off your friends.” Draven exhaled through his nose. “They’re not friends. They’re family.” He slung Zae higher in his arms and met Rook’s gaze. “We’re heading north. Frost’s people will be swarming this place in minutes.” Rook nodded. “We’ve got transport waiting topside.” “Good.” Draven looked once more at the burning wreck. His claws flexed involuntarily, the beast whispering in the back of his skull. Frost knows we’re still alive. He turned and started walking, rain hissing against his shoulders. ~ ~ ~ They reached the upper docks through a back service stairwell that stank of oil and seawater. The world beyond was chaos, sirens echoing, lights cutting through fog, the smell of burning composite still in the air. But through it all, one thing gleamed ahead like salvation: a battered black transport van, its engine already running. “I'll drive,” Draven stated. Rook gave him a look. “You sure? You’re carrying Zae like a damn hero. And you look like ten pounds of crap in a 5 pound bag.” “On second thought, you drive.” The rhino hybrid chuckled, swinging into the driver’s seat. Mira vanished into the shadows, scanning their perimeter. Vex stayed above them, circling like a stormbird, her metallic feathers glinting every time lightning flashed across the sky. Draven climbed in, laying Zaeyeon gently across the passenger seat before sliding in next. Her skin still glowed faintly beneath her collarbone, pulse visible like light trapped under glass. She hadn’t stirred since the last surge. “Hang in there, Zae,” he murmured. His voice was quiet, almost too quiet for the others to hear over the rain hammering the windshield. Kael and Cam piled in the back. Kael held Felicia, her fragile frame wrapped in a thermal blanket, head resting against his chest. His voice shook as he whispered, “I should’ve protected you. I’ll do better next time. I swear it.” Felicia managed a faint smile, lips barely moving. “You’re…a dork.” Kael’s throat worked around a broken laugh. “Yeah, well, I’m your dork.” Cam sat across from them, silent, elbows on his knees. Every so often his gaze flicked forward, to Zaeyeon, to the faint pulse of light beneath her skin, and lingered there. Whatever thoughts churned behind those sharp eyes stayed locked down tight. Rook started the engine. The van lurched forward, tires skidding over slick concrete before catching traction. They tore down the pier road, cutting through smoke and rain toward the bridge that would take them back to Elysium, their refuge, their nerve center, their last good secret. The ride was rough and silent except for the rhythmic hum of the engine and the occasional rumble of thunder. Draven sat with one hand toying with the necklace, while the other rested near Zaeyeon’s shoulder, feeling the faint vibration of her pulse under his fingertips. Her breathing was shallow but steady. She was alive. That had to be enough...for now. The city’s skyline loomed in the distance, broken towers and neon veins, lights flickering like dying stars against the black. Cam finally spoke, his tone soft but edged. “They’ll be waiting for us next time.” Draven didn’t look away from the road. “I know.” “You think she’ll make it?” He didn’t answer. The silence was his answer. When they reached the outskirts, Rook peeled off down an old maintenance route, one that ran beneath the abandoned transit rails. A rusted gate loomed ahead, marked only by faint glyphs. Mira jumped out to key the hidden panel, and the steel doors parted with a low hydraulic hiss. The Elysium waited beyond dim lights, reinforced walls, and the hum of concealed generators echoing like a heartbeat in the dark. Rook eased the van inside, cutting the engine. The sound of the rain dulled to a soft murmur against the metal above. He turned to the others, exhaustion bleeding into his voice. “We made it.” Kael looked down at Felicia, brushing wet hair from her face. “For now.” Draven glanced to Zaeyeon. She still hadn’t woken. Her glow had dimmed to the faintest shimmer, like a dying ember. He reached out and brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. “Come on, little sister,” he whispered. “Don’t you dare check out on me now.” Her fingers twitched, barely, but enough. For the first time that night, Draven let out the breath he’d been holding since the docks. |
| The first thing Zaeyeon felt was the hum. Low and steady, mechanical, familiar. Not the high-pitched whine of restraint fields or Dr. D’s containment cells, but the deep, living pulse of home. Elysium. Her body ached in ways that felt both ancient and new. Her nerves still crackled from overuse, skin hot to the touch. She groaned softly, pressing a palm to her forehead. The cool air carried traces of ozone—her own, residual and stubborn. “Easy, Zae,” came a voice nearby. She turned her head and found Rook crouched beside the cot, his massive frame nearly folding the stool beneath him. His thick hide bore fresh scorch marks, the faint smell of burnt polymer clinging to him. “You’ve been out for hours,” he said. “Scared the hell outta everyone.” Zaeyeon’s lips twitched in a weak smile. “You look worse.” Rook’s laugh rumbled through the room. “Still got my good side, though.” Across the medbay, Vex perched on a railing, cleaning her winged talons with casual precision. Mira leaned against the wall, half-shadowed, eyes flicking up from a datapad. “Welcome back, spark plug,” Vex drawled, her voice carrying that same teasing bite as always. “Next time you decide to fry half a platoon, maybe leave some juice for the rest of us.” Zaeyeon exhaled a laugh that turned into a wince. “You know me...always dramatic.” “You mean stupid,” Mira said softly. But her tone warmed. “Good to see you breathing.” Their banter washed over her, cutting through the lingering static in her mind. The old team. The people she thought she’d lost forever. Then, like a switch flipping, the memory hit. The flash of the mech-suit’s baton. Cam frozen in its shadow, unaware. Her instincts taking over, electricity flooding every vein, her own scream lost beneath the thunder as she released it all. Protecting him. Her brother. She jolted, pulse spiking. The memory wasn’t just of power, it was of blood. Of connection. The face of the boy she’d once seen on old recordings, too young, too scared, one of the many Dr. D had spliced from the same genetic strain that birthed her. Cam. And now, after all these years, fate, or maybe punishment had brought him back into her life. Standing beside Draven, of all people. Draven. Her throat tightened. She turned her head, scanning the medbay. He wasn’t there. Of course he wasn’t. He never stayed put when someone was hurt, it reminded him too much of the labs. He was probably pacing somewhere, brooding and bleeding in silence. Zaeyeon pushed herself upright, groaning. Rook reached to steady her, but she waved him off. “I’m fine.” “Zae, you shouldn’t—” “I said I’m fine.” The words came out too sharp. Guilt flickered across her face. “Sorry. I just...need a minute.” Rook nodded and stepped back, heavy and understanding. Her bare feet met the cold floor, the hum of Elysium vibrating faintly up her legs...safe, yes, but haunted. Every echo reminded her what she’d kept from Draven. He didn’t know the full extent of Dr. D’s projects, what they’d done to him after his last escape, or how deep the genetic layering truly went. He didn’t know that his mind, his hybridization, had been tampered with beyond what any of them believed. And he didn’t know about Cam. Or the other brother still out there. Her breath trembled. She could still see Cam during the escape, brave, controlled, trying so hard not to show fear. But when he’d looked at her, there’d been something in his eyes. Recognition. The same kind she’d spent years trying to bury. She’d found him. One of her blood brothers. But telling Draven? No. Not yet. Not when she hadn’t told him the worst of it, that Dr. D had continued experimenting on his DNA long after Draven escaped, using samples from both her and him to recreate the “perfect hybrid template.” That Frost had access to those files. That there was another splicer out there who shared their blood. Her fingers clenched in the sheets, electricity whispering under her skin. She wanted to tell him. She needed to. But every time she pictured his face, those amber eyes hardened by loss and betrayal...her courage broke. Draven didn’t just hate Dr.D. He hated lies. And this one...this one was forged from both. A lie by omission is still a lie. The door slid open with a soft hiss. Draven’s shadow filled the threshold. He looked wrecked, blood drying on his knuckles, rain still darkening his hair. His eyes found her immediately, flicking from the faint glow of her skin to the tremor in her hands. “You’re awake,” he said quietly. Zaeyeon forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “You sound disappointed.” “Just surprised.” He stepped closer. “You burned out half your system taking down that squad. You could’ve killed yourself.” “I didn’t.” “Not the point.” His words were sharp, but the edge was worry. She met his gaze and swallowed hard. “You know I’d do it again, right?” “I know,” he said after a long pause. “That’s what scares me.” Their eyes held...too long, too heavy. The air between them vibrated with something unspoken. Then Draven turned toward the door. “Get some rest. We regroup in the morning.” He started to leave, but she couldn’t stop herself. “Draven...” He paused, half in shadow. She wanted to tell him everything, about Cam, about their father, about the secrets she’d buried. But the words stuck. “Thank you,” she said instead. Draven’s eyes softened. “You don’t have to thank me, Zae.” “Yes,” she whispered as the door slid shut. “I do.” Her reflection shimmered faintly in the steel wall, eyes glowing from within. She lifted a trembling hand, electricity sparking along her fingertips. She’d tell him soon. She had to. Because in their world, secrets weren’t protection. They were weapons. And this one was aimed straight at the heart of the G6. ~ ~ ~ Elysium never truly slept. Even in its quieter hours, the base thrummed with the pulse of machines and the murmur of distant generators — a metallic heartbeat beneath their feet. Zaeyeon followed it through the dim corridors, her bare feet silent against the gridded flooring, guided more by instinct than memory. She didn’t know where she was going until she stopped outside one of the training bays. Through the reinforced glass, she saw him. Cam. He stood alone in the center of the chamber, stripped down to a tank and worn cargo pants, sweat slicking down his pale, almost luminescent skin. His movements were sharp, not the hesitant shuffle of the frightened boy from the facility videos she’d memorized in secret, but the measured rhythm of a fighter. The heavy bag swung on its chain, each strike punctuated by the dull thud of hybrid strength held just shy of shattering steel. She watched him for a long moment, her pulse syncing to his blows. Every strike, every motion, carried a familiarity she couldn’t unsee — her own precision mirrored back at her, as if her blood still moved in his veins. When he turned and saw her, the bag slowed, rocking gently in the silence between them. “Zaeyeon.” His voice was quieter than she remembered — lower now, rougher at the edges. “Hey, kid,” she said softly. The word caught in her throat. He wasn’t a kid anymore. “I’m not a kid,” Cam snapped, wiping his brow with the back of his wrist, breath sharp. “You shouldn’t be out of medbay.” “You sound like Draven.” “Then maybe he’s right.” He looked away, flexing his hands — knuckles bruised, skin split and healing unevenly. “You shouldn’t have done that back there,” he said finally. “You almost died.” “Wouldn’t be the first time.” “Zae—” “Cam,” she cut in, voice firm but trembling. “You were going to die. I did what I had to.” He stared at her, the eye on his left a shade lighter than hers, the other three scattered across his face in a triangular pattern, each a different hue. Same shape. Same quiet fire. It was like looking into a reflection warped by time and pain. “I don’t understand,” he said after a long pause. “You saved me like… like you knew me.” Zaeyeon’s throat tightened. The hum of the generators filled the space between their words. “I did know you,” she said quietly. “Long before today.” He blinked, frowning. “What are you talking about?” She took a slow step forward. “Cam…you weren’t just another experiment. You were part of Project Continuum — a secondary batch created from hybrid DNA splices. Not just animal DNA, but human templates too. From Dr. D. Same as me.” He froze. “No. That’s—” “It’s true.” Her voice cracked under the weight of it. “You’re my brother, Cam. My blood.” The silence that followed was suffocating. He looked at her like she’d struck him. “You’re lying,” he said finally, but his voice was thin, uncertain. “This—this is another manipulation. A test, maybe. Dr. D loved pulling this kind of—” “Cam.” She stepped closer, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “Look at me. Really look.” He did. And something in his expression faltered. His breath caught. “God...” he whispered. “I wanted to tell you sooner,” she said, voice breaking. “But everything happened too fast. And Draven…he doesn’t know. Not about you. Not about what Dr. D did.” Cam took a step back, shaking his head as if to physically push the truth away. “You should’ve left me out of it. You should’ve let me die back there.” “Don’t say that.” “You don’t understand!” His voice cracked, and for a heartbeat, the boy she remembered was there — scared, desperate, trembling. “I was his, Zae. Dr. D made me into something else. Look at me!” He gestured wildly — at his pale skin, his pointed ears, the sharp canines that flashed in the light, and the cluster of four eyes, one nearly her twin, the others arranged like a broken constellation. “He called me beautiful. Said I was his ‘next evolution.’ But I felt like a mistake. I wasn’t supposed to survive the trials, and somehow I did. Now I don’t even know what part of me is real anymore!” Zaeyeon’s breath hitched. She crossed the distance between them and reached for his arm. “You’re real,” she said fiercely. “You’re my brother. And we’re going to fix this. Together.” |
| “Elysium”. The endless fields of peace for fallen Greek heroes. So, was the intent for this place to be a “heaven” for escaped splicers – and apparently some normal humans, obviously out of their minds and out of their depths. Or was it subconsciously the idea that no matter how hard any of them fought, they were all destined to die? Except, not all of them were heroes. He knew that well. He wasn’t a hero. He wasn’t a villain. He practically didn’t exist. He had no idea why he had even come along with them. Sure, his current “identity” had been blown out of the water, but he’d changed who he was so many times over the past decade that it wasn’t like it was hard to start again. Actually, he did know. It was that girl – the “electric angel” who had almost died saving him. He wanted to… to make sure she was okay. For some reason, when she’d been in his arms, he’d felt a sort of protective feeling he’d only ever felt for himself. Worried about her, he couldn’t sleep. So he’d made use of one of their training areas. He was exhausted from the events of the night, but he couldn’t stop fighting. Even if his enemy was just a punching bag. What had he been thinking? That he would just follow them to Wonderland and fit right in? He’d seen almost a dozen splicers tonight. Bears, wolves, even a freaking rhino! And what that girl had done… Now, not only did he feel like an outsider, he felt… superfluous. So he could change into someone else. He couldn't rip something to pieces with claws or fly away on falcon wings. And they had worked so cohesively as a team while he barely held on long enough to make the ride. He wished he hadn’t come. Especially when the girl showed up. Showed up and blew his world apart. Normally cool and collected, his emotions got the best of him. So not only had Dr. D made him “beautiful”, he had actually put part of his own DNA into Cam. Now he understood why he had been treated differently, at least to some extent, and often kept far from the others. He was his “son”. And this girl, this beautiful girl. Truly beautiful. She was his… sister? They shared DNA, but they couldn’t look any different. To be fair, as far as he knew, no one looked like him. She didn’t know him, and she’d almost died saving him. He’d meant every word when he said she should have left him to die instead. He was the monstrous prototype. She was the real thing. The real thing… “You’re real,” she'd said fiercely, closing the distance and reaching for his arm, “You’re my brother. And we’re going to fix this. Together.” Those words, they dug into his heart like daggers. But she was looking right into his eyes – what ones she could anyway – and she was showing no fear or disgust. As “touch” to him was normally associated with pain, he had to force himself not to move as she placed her delicate hand on it, and he caught his breath. Suddenly, she threw herself into him, and he slowly let his hands wrap around her back. He could feel her shuddering with tears, and the liquid stuff streamed from all four of his eyes. He hadn't cried like that in a long time. It felt good. They stayed like this for a while until they finally pulled back, and she let out an “oh” of surprise. While he hadn’t been masking his face, he’d put on a “show” of workout clothes. Now she was seeing all of the real him. The eyes, the ears, the teeth – and now his wetsuit-like nano suit that allowed him to shift into fake clothing. “Why didn’t you find me sooner?” He asked. “Well, it can be a bit difficult to track down someone who can be anyone they want,” she laughed as she gestured to him as a whole. “Fair enough.” “So what do we do now?” He asked after a moment. It wasn’t every day a brother and sister met for the first time – outside babies in the hospitals, of course. “I don’t know,” she said honestly, “Brother sister stuff?” “Yeah,” he said, “I have no idea how to do that.” They both laughed, but then he had a thought. “Why doesn’t Draven know about this? You two seem pretty… tight.” “I don’t know…” she suddenly became quiet, “I don’t know how. Or when or…” she shrugged. “Yeah,” he sighed, “Might be hard to introduce your brother to the party when he looks like this.” “It’s not that.” “Maybe because he doesn’t trust me?” “He hardly trusts anyone.” He looked her up and down, recalling he himself saying something jokingly about not wanting to piss off Draven’s friends and his growling reply of “family”. “I don’t know if I’d say that,” Cam said. “So… are you going to stay?” Stay. All he’d ever heard in his head, his every instinct, had always been “Leave” and “Run”. Stay? He already knew that he was, at best, being tolerated right now. No one had been particularly friendly besides her. He knew that it would be easy to slip away like he had a hundred times before. But how could he leave her? “For a while,” he said finally. He saw her bite her lip and a flash of something cross her blue eyes, but then she was smiling again. “I guess that’ll have to do,” she said. “You should go to bed,” he said. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna be a mini Draven,” she rolled her eyes with a laugh. “I don’t think anyone can fit into his giant wolfy shoes,” he said, mostly with humor but with a bit of a bitter undertone. She seemed to hesitate for a moment, then leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss on his wet cheek, smiled, and left. He exhaled, leaning a hand on the wall. This wasn’t really possible, was it? He’d never had anyone care for him. Not really. It had always been fake. Pretend. He walked to one of the full-length mirrors in the gym. At the pointed ears and pointed teeth, almost translucent white skin. The four eyes. Out of nowhere, he punched it, cracking it badly and only further cut up his knuckles. Now, when he looked at himself, it was all in splintered pieces. Now, when he looked at himself, he could almost look human. He took a breath and returned, as much as he could, to his quiet, calm, cool, collected self. ~<><><>~ Later, he was sitting on a long bench in a kind of courtyard, looking up at the stars. It was cold in the mountains, and he’d had his nano-suit turn into pants, boots, a long-sleeved shirt, and a light parka. Thanks for the present, "Dad"... His sharp ears picked up movement, and he knew who it was before he saw them. Draven sat on the other side of the bench, and they were quiet for a while. “Quite the setup you got here,” Cam said at last. “We make do.” Cam gave a low, sarcastic laugh. Make do? The place was like a mixture of a mansion and a bunker. Then it was quiet again. “How’s the girl? The one with the wings?” “She’ll live,” Draven said, looking ahead rather than at him, “It was lucky we came when we did. Can’t believe Carloff was keeping them like that.” Draven spat into the dirt. There was probably a lot to be said about Draven Fox, but he really did care for his people. “How many splicers do you have here?” “Why?” Draven looked at him quickly, suspiciously. Kinda hurt, to be honest. “I was just curious,” Cam said, looking at the stars with a small smile, “And here I thought we were bonding.” “I appreciate you looking after Zae while Kael and I got to Felicia, but I think maybe you should keep your distance.” Cam looked at him, and though Draven was as tough as it got, being this close to this kind of mug might make anyone feel… just a little bit awkward. “And why would you say that?” “She almost died saving you. And I still don’t know why she did it.” “Maybe she doesn’t tell you everything.” He saw Draven’s eyes flash gold and felt a bit of unease himself. “I’m not gonna ‘corrupt’ her or something if that’s what you think.” “Truly, I don’t know what to think,” Draven shook his head, “You didn’t deserve what happened to you.” Cam’s breath caught. Very few people were sympathetic to his different experiences. But – “But where were you? On the night of the escape?” And there it was. “Why do you ask?” Of course, the answer was obvious. “You weren’t in the group when we were escaping,” Draven said, “But I believe I recall seeing a black and white shape disappearing into the woods.” None of them knew. None of them. That while they were running for their lives, he was using the computer consoles to keep the right doors open and the wrong doors closed. To trap security teams in hallways, and flash lights for the kids to find the right stairwells. He’d betrayed his… father. For them. Because, even though he hadn’t spent much time with them, and even felt some resentment for their seeming camaraderie while he was stuck alone. See, whatever Dr. D had in mind for Cam, he had failed to squash out one very strong human emotion, an emotion Cam very rarely felt aimed at himself. Compassion. And so he had helped the other kids escape, and he had run off to survive on his own. But if he told them now, would they even believe him? “Maybe you saw Shamu,” he said mildly. “I don’t know what you’ve endured the last ten years,” Draven said, not without some sympathy, “But if you’re going to stay with us, I’m gonna need to know that I can trust you.” His four eyes met Draven’s. “Well,” Cam said eventually, “You gotta protect your family. Don't you?" One in particular over all others… |
| Draven didn’t answer right away. The night wind moved through the mountain pines — cold, clean — whispering against the metal walls of Elysium. The faint hum of generators filled the silence, that same mechanical heartbeat reminding him this place wasn’t built on peace. It was built on necessity. On ghosts. He glanced sideways. Cam’s expression seemed calm in the half-light, those four eyes glinting like fractured glass. It should have unnerved him. Maybe it did. But what unsettled him more was the way Zae had looked at Cam earlier; not with fear or disgust, but something raw. Recognition. Maybe it’s attraction, he thought. Draven’s jaw clenched. He’d always told himself blood didn’t mean much. Family was chosen, forged in the trenches, in shared scars, not written in a lab report. But hearing Cam echo his own words back at him: You gotta protect your family, don’t you? It felt like a blade slipped quietly between the ribs. He’d been protecting this family for a long time. The ones who escaped. The ones who stayed behind. The ones who didn’t make it. He had failed more of them than he cared to count. Now, this new variable “Cam “ had walked into his camp, his past, his nightmares, with Zae’s scent clinging faintly to his skin. He exhaled slowly, forcing the tension from his shoulders. “Yeah,” he said finally, his voice low. “That’s what I do.” Cam didn’t reply. The faintest smile ghosted across his face, like he’d just won something. Then he stood, gave Draven a short nod, and disappeared into the darkened hallways of Elysium. Draven stayed where he was, watching. Listening to the echo of retreating footsteps until they faded into silence. Then, only the night remained. The rain had started again — soft, steady — pattering steadily against the metal roof above him in a rhythm that reminded him too much of blood on tile. He rubbed his temples, trying to quiet the static building in his thoughts. There was something about Cam he couldn’t place. Something familiar, buried deep, and that made it worse. It wasn’t the eyes. It wasn’t the skin. It was something beneath all that. Something that felt like memory. And the fact that Zae had risked her life for him…that set his instincts on edge. Zaeyeon didn’t make reckless choices. Not since the facility. If she’d hidden something from him, if she’d chosen to , then maybe he hadn’t taught her to trust him as much as he thought. The thought burned. He rose, pacing across the rain slick courtyard, the weight of command pressing down again. He was their leader. Their shield. He didn’t get to falter. Didn’t get to break. Yet the memories came anyway, unbidden, brutal. The screams in the facility halls. Gabriel slipping from his hand. The look in his brother’s eyes as he stared up at him. The blinding flash of gunfire reflected off white tile. He thought he’d buried that night long ago. But seeing Cam — those same haunted eyes — had ripped those scars open like fresh wounds. Draven closed his eyes and drew a long breath, letting the wolf stir just beneath the surface, enough to feel the instinct, the clarity, the storm under his skin. Somewhere deep in the base, Zaeyeon’s laughter echoed faintly down a corridor, soft, tired, but real. The sound steadied him. Still, he knew morning would come fast, and with it, questions. He couldn’t afford to let emotion cloud judgment. Not again. If Cam stayed, Draven would have to keep him close enough to watch, and far enough not to trust. Not yet. Because Draven Fox didn’t believe in coincidences. And nothing about Cam felt like one. |
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