As the morning sun crept above the horizon, a smoky haze blanketed the shattered remnants of the city. From the office window, Emmett could see construction vehicles and cranes that were scattered among the ruins, their steel frames standing like statues against the destruction.

  Dr. Vulcan had the shackles removed from Emmett’s feet, leaving only his hands restrained. He allowed him to approach the window to take in reality. Emmett stood there in silence, staring down at what remained of the city he once called home.

  “Not the city you remember, is it?” Vulcan said.

  “What happened to it?” Emmett asked quietly as he stepped back from the glass.

  “There was a major attack by forces we code named the Zavons,” Vulcan replied.

  “They somehow triggered artificial eruptions on any volcano that was near major population centers. It's believed they used them as staging grounds. Though, we still don’t fully understand how, but they killed nearly half the population before we could even respond.”

  “How could something like this happen?”

  “Nobody can agree on their intentions,” Vulcan said. “Some believe the gods sent them to punish us. Others think they aren’t even from Earth. A few researchers argue that they resemble and share DNA with Neanderthals, which they claim is based on skeletal remains and limited genetic samples. But even that theory is disputed.”

  He paused before adding, “But some studies have claimed that there’s a genetic connection. Others say it’s coincidence.”

  “I thought Neanderthals were wiped out thousands of years ago,” Emmett said. “How could they have survived with that kind of technology to do this?”

  “We don’t know,” Vulcan replied. “They could have had help… maybe from off-world. But the truth is, we may never find out.”

  Emmett shook his head. “This can’t be real. This has to be a sick joke, or a nightmare. Why am I here? What do you want with me?”

  Vulcan folded his hands. “I work for an organization the government doesn’t officially acknowledge. But they fund it in secret. You’re here because the Emperor personally selected you, along with ninety-nine others, for an experimental program. It was called the Roma Initiative.”

  “What kind of program? Why did I have to be kidnapped?” Emmett asked.

  “This program was an attempt to create enhanced soldiers,” Vulcan said. “Though it was abandoned when the Zavons launched their attack.”

  “You said ninety-nine others,” Emmett said slowly. “Where are they?”

  “All dead. Except you,” Vulcan said with a cold voice. “And don’t ask me how. I didn’t even know you were alive until I went down to that control room this morning. When the first earthquakes hit, most of the facility was damaged. We lost our main power, along with the backup systems for nearly every pod.”

  He glanced toward the window before continuing.

  “Somehow, what remained rerouted to yours. Even the fuel I thought was long gone. I don’t understand how it happened, but a year later, you’re still here.”

  Emmett stared at him.

  "This can't be real.”

  Before Vulcan could answer, hurried footsteps echoed from the stairwell. Someone rushed toward the office and was stopped by security, but Vulcan waved them through.

  A black-haired woman in her mid-thirties burst through the door, dressed in a black skirt and white button-down. She was visibly out of breath, bending forward slightly as she struggled to speak.

  “What is it, Antonia?” Vulcan asked.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but we’ve detected an unidentified aircraft entering the city’s airspace,” she said, still catching her breath. “Its trajectory is headed straight for this building.”

  Vulcan’s eyes narrowed. “Why hasn’t it been shot down? This airspace is restricted.”

  “It's outmaneuvering our missiles. Fighters have been scrambled, but they’re at least ten minutes out.”

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “What kind of aircraft can do that?” Vulcan muttered. “Not even our best—”

  The building suddenly lurched. A violent explosion rattled the office, sending a framed picture and several loose items crashing to the floor.

  Antonia gasped, spun on her heel, and bolted for the stairwell.

  Vulcan was already at his terminal, fingers flying across the controls. Within seconds, a large screen and several smaller monitors rose from the wall, each displaying live feeds from different floors.

  One of the security officers stepped forward, pointing at a screen and partially blocking Emmett’s view.

  “Bodies on the hundredth floor,” he said. “That’s where the blast hit.”

  “Pull it up on the main display,” Vulcan ordered.

  The largest screen shifted to the main lobby camera on the hundredth floor. The image revealed a scene of devastation. Bodies lay scattered across the floor, many were bloodied, some missing limbs, some rolling around in agony. Fire and smoke rolled through the space as the wounded crawled weakly among the wreckage. A handful of armed personnel attempted to move through, dragging any survivors to safety and attempting first aid for the rest.

  Vulcan leaned closer, his eyes narrowing.

  In the reflection of shattered glass near the edge of the frame, he noticed movement. He adjusted the controls, working to refocus the camera. The view shifted, revealing a massive puncture in the side of the building.

  Hovering just outside was a colossal, armored craft, its surface curved like a shell, with rigid, triangular wings extending from each side. It drifted upward slowly until it was level with the floor.

  “What…what is that?” someone whispered.

  The craft remained motionless for several seconds. Then it rotated, aligning itself with the building. Then a gap opened along its center.

  One by one, a dozen humanoid figures dropped from the opening, slamming into the floor below. They rolled, recovered, and rose to their feet, fully visible to the camera.

  Vulcan zoomed in.

  Their bodies were encased in a gray metallic alloy that clung to them like living armor. Gunfire erupted almost immediately. Bullets struck their forms and burst into showers of sparks without penetrating.

  The figures charged through the gunfire, unfazed by the bullet strikes.

  Vulcan zoomed out just in time to see them collide with the security team. The guards attempted to fight back at close range, but each was cut down within seconds, overwhelmed by the advancing attackers.

  “All of those men… they were highly trained professionals,” one of the security officers said, staring at the screen. “How could they be taken down like that? Wait—what are they doing to the bodies?”

  On-screen, one of the armored figures crouched beside a fallen guard and placed a hand on his head. A metallic liquid spread instantly, flowing over flesh and uniform alike. It consumed him completely in a matter of seconds. The body stiffened and reshaped, with the metal hardening into the same gray, and Velcro-like armor as the attacking force.

  Then guard rose to his feet, like strings were attached to his body.

  “What just happened?” Emmett asked, eyes locked on the screen. “Are those the Zavons you mentioned?”

  Vulcan didn’t look away. “I think they’re turning them into puppets of some sort. Whatever that metal substance is, I think it’s controlling the bodies.”

  On the monitor, the rest of the security team fell one by one. Each transformed in the same way. The metal would spread, harden, then the body would rise. The newly formed figures each stood motionless for a moment before suddenly marching out of view, deeper into the facility.

  “Shut down this floor,” Vulcan ordered sharply. “Security Officer A, take position at the stairwell. Security Officer B, guard my door. Security Officer C—watch him.”

  “Remove these restraints,” Emmett said, struggling against them. “I can help.”

  “You’re our guest,” Vulcan replied calmly. “You stay protected. Watch the cameras and tell me if you see movement.”

  Vulcan turned back to his terminal and began typing rapidly. A moment later, the protective shutters around his office activated, sliding down over the windows from ceiling to floor. The room darkened as they sealed into place. The emergency lights switched on, bathing the space in a muted red glow.

  As another explosion rocked the building, Emmett braced himself, eyes still fixed on the monitors.

  “I think I see something on floor ninety,” he said suddenly.

  “Switching now,” Vulcan replied.

  The main screen changed to the ninetieth-floor camera. The armored craft hovered just outside the building, its weapons firing streams of tracer rounds into the hallway. People scattered in panic, only to be cut down as they tried to flee.

  Seconds later, the camera feed burst into static and went dark.

  Vulcan didn’t hesitate.

  “Check the camera on floor below. See if it’s still operational.”

  The screen shifted to the next floor below. Several puppets were already in motion, moving fast. They pounced on people and guards trying to flee, striking each down and spreading the metallic substance across their bodies. One by one, the victims were transformed, swelling the attackers’ numbers.

  Emmett watched in disbelief. He studied their movements. They didn’t hesitate. They didn’t react like people. They moved like they were being directed.

  “How many people work in this building?” he asked quietly.

  “About a thousand,” Vulcan replied. “Why?”

  Emmett gestured at the screens. “Look at them. You’re about to have a hundreds more of those things loose in here. And that craft out there is killing everyone else. This place is under attack. You need to free me, I can help.” He cried out.

  “You need to stay calm,” Vulcan said firmly. “You’ve just come out of hibernation. Your body hasn’t fully recovered. If you push yourself now, you could slip into a coma.”

  Across the monitors, cameras began to fail one by one. Some went dark. Others showed only smoke, debris, and bodies. Armed security fought desperately, but the growing number of puppets overwhelmed every line of defense.

  Suddenly, Security Officer A burst back into the office, weapon raised.

  “Sir,” he said urgently, “they’re on the floor below us. They’ll be here any minute. We need to evacuate to the rooftop—now.”