Charles sat in the dimly lit lab, his eyes fixed on the child through the glass. The prototype. The perfect weapon. His creation, a mindless tool, doing exactly as programmed. Yet, the victory he had once craved felt hollow now. This wasn't the breakthrough he had imagined. This wasn't success.
The child before him had no free will, no desires of its own, no hope, no dreams. It was a machine, nothing more. And yet, something gnawed at Charles as he watched it move, flawless and obedient. Was this truly what he had been working towards all these years?
Was this the ultimate goal? To strip away everything that made someone human and turn them into a tool?
Charles ran his hands over his face, feeling the weight of his choices pressing down on him. This wasn't the outcome he had hoped for. The child wasn't a victory, it was a reminder of how far he'd fallen, how much he'd sacrificed. But there was no turning back now. He had already crossed a line, and there was no going back.
