The world was a blur from the rain and blood.
Liam Blackwood drifted in and out of consciousness as he stumbled along the riverbank. The bullet wound in his side had reopened; blood soaked through his torn armor, blending with the mud beneath his boots. The storm had passed, leaving behind only the faint hiss of falling drizzle.
He had been running for days. No rest. No food. No purpose but survival.
His vision flickered, that strange blue interface again, hovering faintly in his sight:
[SYSTEM: Recovery protocols available, insufficient energy detected]
[Recommendation: Enter safe mode or locate organic fuel source]
"Shut up…" he muttered weakly, shaking his head. "You're not real."
The voice in his head, the System was becoming clearer, colder, and almost human. It didn't feel like the neural AI he once carried in combat. This was… different. It wasn't commanding him; it was guiding him.
But right now, all he wanted was silence.
He collapsed beside the river, half in icy water. His fingers dug into the mud, trying to stay awake. Sleep meant death. He knew that. But the darkness was winning.
Then voices.
He wasn't sure if they were real.
"Check the bank. I saw movement."
Boots crunched on gravel. A flashlight beam cut through the fog. Liam's body tensed automatically, adrenaline kicking in. He rolled behind a fallen log, his instincts returning even through the pain.
Two silhouettes approached, one tall and broad shouldered, carrying a rifle; the other shorter, slender, with a faint glow of tech implants along the wrist.
"Over there," the man said.
The woman knelt, scanning the area. "No sign of heat… wait..."
Liam moved. Fast.
He lunged from the shadows, sweeping the rifle aside, pinning the tall man against the log, his blade pressed to the throat. "Who sent you?" he rasped.
The man froze then grinned. "You're alive. Damn, I knew you'd be hard to kill."
That grin, so confident, reckless. It was familiar.
Liam frowned. "Who are you?"
The man slowly raised his hands. "Name's Ronan Kael. Ex-Kairon Division Six. They made me before they made you. Guess we're brothers, in a twisted kind of way."
The woman beside him spoke softly. "You're bleeding. If you want to live, let us help you."
Liam's grip tightened. "You work for them?"
Ronan laughed. "If by them you mean the bastards who turned me into a monster, then no. I burned my ID chip out five years ago." He gestured toward the woman. "This is Elara. She's the one who found you."
Liam's eyes flicked toward her. She was young, mid-twenties, dark hair tied back, sharp green eyes that seemed to see through him. Unlike Ronan, she carried no visible weapon. Just a compact pad at her hip and an aura of quiet defiance.
"How?" Liam demanded.
"I tracked your bio-signal through the corrupted satellite feed," she replied. "Someone's been covering your trail. You're lucky. Without my interference, you'd be ashes by now."
Liam blinked, his strength fading. "Why help me?"
Elara hesitated then looked away. "Because if you die… they win."
They brought him to an underground shelter hidden beneath the ruins of an old railway station. Rusted trains lined the walls, converted into living quarters. A flickering generator hummed weakly in the corner.
Ronan dropped Liam onto a cot, then tore open a medkit. "Hold still. This is gonna hurt."
He jabbed a syringe into Liam's side. The serum burned through his veins like liquid fire. Liam gritted his teeth, his muscles locking from the shock.
"What is that?"
"Regeneration fluid," Ronan said, smirking. "Half black market, half miracle. You'll be walking again in a few hours. Might vomit a bit first though."
Liam managed a faint glare. "You enjoy this, don't you?"
"You have no idea."
Later, when the pain dulled, Liam sat up. The shelter was dim, lit only by a single hanging lamp. Elara sat across from him, typing rapidly on her pad. Her expression was focused but wary, as if she didn't entirely trust him.
"You're quiet," she said without looking up.
"I was built to be."
"That's not what I meant."
She met his gaze. "You're thinking. Processing. Like you don't know what to do with silence."
Liam stared at her for a moment. "I don't."
That earned a small smile from her. "Then you're learning."
Ronan chuckled from the corner, cleaning his weapon. "Careful, kid. He's about as good at small talk as a combat drone."
Liam ignored.. "You said you were part of Kairon," he said to Ronan. "How did you get out?"
Ronan's expression darkened. "They made me strong, fast but not obedient. When they realized I wasn't going to be their dog, they tried to erase me. I erased them first."
Elara interjected, "He means he blew up half the facility."
Ronan grinned. "Details."
Liam leaned forward. "You know what they're planning?"
Ronan's smirk faded. "More like what they're hiding. Project Kairon wasn't just about soldiers. It was about control. You were their masterpiece, Liam, not because you could kill, but because you obeyed without question."
Elara added quietly, "They're still making more of you."
Liam's fists clenched. "More?"
"Thousands," she said. "Automated factories producing synthetic soldiers. They've stripped the human element out completely this time. No hesitation. No emotion. Just… obedience."
He stared at her, cold rage rising in his chest. "So they replaced me."
"No," Elara said. "They perfected you. That's why you have to survive. You're the only proof they failed."
Over the next few days, Liam recovered slowly. He helped reinforce the shelter, repaired Ronan's weaponry, and learned the strange rhythm of normal life.
He didn't understand the jokes Ronan told, or why Elara laughed at them, but he found himself… listening. Watching. Trying.
Once, while eating a meal of canned stew, Liam asked, "Why do people talk so much when silence is safer?"
Ronan laughed so hard he nearly choked. "Because silence is for the dead, brother."
Elara smirked. "And because talking reminds us we're still alive."
Liam didn't respond. But later that night, when Elara fell asleep by the console and Ronan snored nearby, Liam sat by the flickering lamp, whispering to himself:
"Alive…"
He didn't know what it meant, but he wanted to.
On the fifth night, the storm returned and with it, death.
Liam sensed it before the alarms went off. The air changed, charged, electric. He stood, eyes narrowing.
"They found us, they're here" he muttered.
Ronan cursed, grabbing his rifle. "Already? Damn it, I thought you scrambled the network!" he shouted to Elara.
"I did!" she snapped, typing frantically. "But someone's overriding my code, they're using a human signal relay. Someone close."
Her words hung heavy. A traitor.
Liam's instincts kicked in. "Get to cover."
The wall exploded before she could answer.
Smoke and flame engulfed the shelter. Shadows poured through the breach, armored figures with glowing visors. Kairon Hunters.
Liam was already moving. He tackled Ronan behind a steel shield just as gunfire shredded the air. Bullets pinged off metal, sending sparks flying.
"How many?" Ronan barked.
"Six. Maybe more."
"Perfect," Ronan said grimly, cocking his rifle.
He popped out of cover, fired three shots, two soldiers fell. The rest advanced, formation tight, mechanical precision.
Liam grabbed a pipe from the wreckage, spinning it like a weapon. He charged, catching one soldier off-guard and smashing the pipe into his helmet. Bone and metal cracked. He twisted, using the corpse as a shield as the others fired.
Elara ducked under a console, typing commands furiously. "I can shut down their HUDs! Buy me ten seconds!"
"Five," Liam growled.
He moved like lightning. One soldier threw a punch Liam caught his arm, broke it backward, and used the momentum to throw him into another. He ripped a sidearm from the dead soldier's belt and fired three clean shots, all head shots.
"Now, Elara!"
"Done!"
The soldiers froze as their visors went dark. Blind. Confused.
Liam didn't hesitate. He was among them in an instantl. He drove his knife through armor, into throats, under ribs. Every movement was lethal, efficient, merciless.
By the time Ronan reloaded, the last Hunter fell.
Smoke and silence filled the air.
Elara stood slowly, trembling. "You… you killed them all."
Liam looked down at his blood-covered hands. "It's what I was made for."
Ronan clapped him on the shoulder. "Yeah, but this time, it was for the right side."
But Liam didn't feel victorious. He felt no emotion.
For a long time, he just stared at the bodies, at the lifeless eyes staring back. He didn't know whether to feel disgust… or nothing at all.
Elara approached quietly. "You're not a monster, Liam."
He turned to her. "Then what am I?"
Her voice was gentle. "Something they could never make, human."
They buried the bodies in the ruins behind the station. The rain fell softly, washing the blood away.
Ronan leaned on his rifle. "We can't stay here. They'll send more."
"Where do we go?" Elara asked.
"East," Liam said. "To Kairon's main HQ. If we destroy their network core, maybe this ends."
Elara hesitated. "That's suicide."
"Maybe," Liam said. "But I've died once already."
That night, while they prepared to move, Elara approached him privately.
"There's something you should see," she said, handing him a small data chip. "I found it in the Kairon archives. It's encrypted under your genetic code."
Liam inserted it into the terminal. The screen glitched and then displayed a photograph.
A young girl, maybe eight years old, smiling beside a boy who looked just like him, only younger, unscarred, human.
Underneath the image:
SUBJECT FILE 0-A: ELARA BLACKWOOD. RELATION: SIBLING PROTOTYPE.
Liam's breath caught. "This… this isn't real."
Elara's expression was unreadable. "It's classified above even my clearance. If it's true, they've been watching us both from the start."
The world seemed to bulge beneath him. "I had a family?"
"Maybe not in the way you think," she said softly. "But yes. You weren't the only one they created."
Ronan entered then, holding his rifle. "Time's up. We move at dawn."
Liam didn't answer. He couldn't. His hands trembled as he stared at the photo, the girl's innocent eyes, her smile. Something deep within him twisted painfully.
A memory, faint flickered in his mind. A laugh. A small hand gripping his own.
And then darkness.