The soldiers came fast.
Too fast.
Boots thundered across broken concrete as floodlights snapped on one by one, cutting through the smoke and dust of the abandoned compound. Orders were being shouted—confused, overlapping, desperate. Someone screamed Ryan's description. Someone else yelled to shoot on sight.
Ryan stood at the center of it all.
Surrounded.
Blood still clung to his clothes, dark and sticky, but none of it was fresh anymore. His chest rose slowly. Calmly. His lips curved into a faint smile—not wide, not arrogant. Empty.
The soldiers raised their rifles.
"Hands up!" one of them yelled. "Don't move!"
Ryan tilted his head slightly, as if listening to something only he could hear.
Then he vanished.
Not disappeared—moved.
To the human eye, it looked like teleportation. In reality, it was speed so extreme that the brain refused to register the transition. One moment Ryan stood still. The next, the soldier closest to him collapsed, throat crushed before he could even pull the trigger.
Ryan reappeared behind another man. His hand pierced forward. Bones cracked. A body dropped.
Gunfire erupted.
Bullets tore through the air, ripping into walls, shredding metal crates, punching holes straight through Ryan's torso.
And yet—he didn't slow down.
He leapt from one soldier to another, feet barely touching the ground. His movements were fluid, precise, animalistic. Not rage-driven. Calculated. Like a predator that had already mapped every kill.
A bullet tore through his shoulder.
The wound closed before the blood could spill.
Another hit his side.
The flesh knit itself together instantly, skin reforming as if time itself was being reversed.
The soldiers panicked.
"What the hell is he?!" someone screamed.
Ryan didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
Within seconds, the compound fell silent.
Bodies lay scattered across the ground, twisted in unnatural angles, faces frozen in expressions of disbelief. The floodlights flickered. Smoke drifted lazily through the air.
Ryan stood alone again.
He exhaled slowly.
His vision was different now. Sharper. Brighter. The world felt slower, like it was trapped in molasses while his mind raced far ahead. He could hear distant sirens miles away. He could feel vibrations through the concrete. His brain processed outcomes before events even happened.
So this is what he meant, Ryan thought.
My greatest creation.
He didn't stay to reflect.
Within moments, he was gone—melting into the night like a ghost that had never existed.
For the next month, Ryan didn't exist.
No records. No sightings. No patterns.
He moved from motel to motel, city to city, crossing borders without leaving trails. Sometimes he slept in abandoned buildings. Sometimes he didn't sleep at all. His body no longer demanded it the way it used to.
But his mind never stopped.
Doctor Norton.
That name echoed constantly in his thoughts.
The recorded message from his father replayed again and again inside his head. Every word. Every pause. Every hidden meaning.
Don't trust anyone.
Find Norton.
Ryan broke into databases that shouldn't have been accessible. Military archives. Intelligence leaks. Black-market servers buried beneath layers of encryption. His mind tore through firewalls like paper.
At first, there was nothing.
Doctor Norton officially didn't exist.
No public photos. No current addresses. No recent records. The man was a ghost buried beneath decades of classified files.
Then Ryan noticed something strange.
A financial anomaly. A pattern of encrypted transfers that didn't point to Norton—but circled around a single civilian identity.
A woman.
Young. Early twenties.
No public connection to Norton.
No mention in official records.
Hidden too carefully.
That was when Ryan knew.
She's his weakness.
Her name was Mira Norton.
And she was currently attending Plane University—one of the most prestigious academic institutions in the world. A place reserved for prodigies, elites, and children of powerful families. A place crawling with intelligence assets disguised as professors, students, and staff.
Ryan stared at her photo on the screen.
Dark hair. Sharp eyes. Calm expression.
She didn't look like someone who knew the truth.
Which meant she was the perfect way in.
Ryan burned his old identity completely.
New name. New face. New history.
He dyed his hair a pale yellow—not flashy, not unnatural. Surprisingly, it suited him. Softened his features. Made him look less threatening. More… normal.
He built a fake identity with obsessive detail.
Robert Hale.
His father's name.
Fake transcripts. Academic records flawless enough to survive deep scrutiny. Test scores that placed him comfortably among Plane University's top percentile—brilliant, but not suspiciously perfect.
He rented a small house near the university.
Another near Mira's residence.
Always close. Never obvious.
By the time winter semester arrived, Robert Hale existed more convincingly than Ryan ever had.
Plane University felt wrong the moment he stepped onto campus.
Too clean.
Too quiet.
Too controlled.
Ryan sensed it immediately—eyes watching from behind windows, cameras tracking movement patterns, conversations being recorded under layers of casual chatter.
And Mira?
She was surrounded.
Not openly guarded—but protected in subtle ways. Security disguised as faculty. Students who stayed just a little too close. Surveillance that shifted when she moved.
Ryan recognized the signs instantly.
CIA.
Interpol.
Even KGB assets embedded quietly, watching from the shadows.
So everyone wants her, Ryan thought.
That made his job harder.
And more dangerous.
His goal wasn't to approach her directly—not yet. That would be suicide. Instead, he needed to become invisible while simultaneously becoming important.
A paradox.
To infiltrate the core of Plane University, Ryan needed influence.
Trust.
A reputation.
It happened faster than expected.
On his third day, Ryan witnessed a scene that reminded him too much of his old life.
A small crowd had formed near the engineering wing. Laughter echoed—cruel, sharp.
A weak-looking student was pressed against the lockers, books scattered across the floor. Three older students loomed over him, shoving him back whenever he tried to stand.
"Pick it up," one of them sneered. "Or are you too stupid for that too?"
Ryan stopped walking.
The world slowed.
He watched the bullies carefully—weight distribution, posture, breathing patterns. He calculated outcomes without thinking.
Then he stepped forward.
"Hey," Ryan said calmly.
The bullies turned.
"This doesn't concern you," one of them snapped.
Ryan smiled faintly.
"You're right," he said. "It ends now."
The first punch landed before they even realized he'd moved.
One bully flew backward, crashing into a wall hard enough to crack plaster. The second swung wildly—Ryan caught his arm and twisted. Bones snapped. Screams followed.
The third tried to run.
Ryan didn't let him.
Within seconds, it was over.
The bullied student—Julius—stood frozen, eyes wide, breathing hard.
"You okay?" Ryan asked.
Julius nodded shakily.
"Y-yeah."
Ryan helped him up, handed him his books, and walked away like nothing had happened.
He didn't notice her at first.
But Mira Norton had seen everything.
From across the courtyard.
Her eyes lingered on him longer than necessary.
That night, Ryan sat alone in his rented house.
The silence felt heavier here.
He checked security feeds. No one had followed him. No unusual movement.
Then his phone rang.
Unknown number.
Ryan stared at it for a moment before answering.
"Hello?"
A familiar voice laughed softly on the other end.
"How are you, my dear friend… Robert?"
Ryan's muscles tensed instantly.
"Or should I say," the voice continued smoothly, "Ryan."
The world snapped back to full speed.
"…Webber," Ryan said coldly.
"Oh, don't sound so surprised," Webber replied. "After everything we've been through, did you really think you could disappear from me?"
Ryan said nothing.
Webber chuckled.
"You're at Plane University. Clever move. Risky. But clever."
Ryan's grip tightened around the phone.
"What do you want?"
"To help," Webber said lightly. "Or maybe to warn you."
"About what?"
There was a pause.
Then Webber's tone shifted—serious now.
"About Mira."
Ryan's heart skipped.
"You're not the only one moving toward her," Webber continued. "And trust me—some of them won't hesitate to burn the entire university down if it means getting what they want."
Ryan's jaw clenched.
"And you?" he asked.
Webber smiled through the phone.
"I just want to see what happens when the world realizes… that Ryan is no longer human."
The call ended.
Ryan stared at the dark screen.
Outside, somewhere across the campus, Mira stood at her window—unaware that every step she took from this moment on would pull her deeper into a war she didn't know existed.
And somewhere closer than either of them realized…
Someone was already watching Ryan.
To Be Continued...