*Maya Chen*
Maya found her uncle's body at dawn, Tommy Nguyen sitting beside it with tears cutting tracks through the blood on his face.
"He wouldn't stop," Tommy said hoarsely. "Even when the strain started killing him. Just kept fighting."
The pier was a warzone. Six enhanced soldiers in military gear, torn apart. Her uncle at the center, body twisted by Strain C's final burn. His fists were still clenched, knuckles split from impact.
"He found them," Tommy continued. "Project Chimera. Ex-military enhanced recruiting addicts for some black ops unit. They killed Derek for refusing to join."
Maya knelt by Marcus's body. Another family member lost to Chance. Her parents to the original outbreak. Derek to the war. Now Marcus to revenge.
"Why didn't he come to me?"
"Because you're trying to fix things the right way. Build bridges. Find solutions." Tommy stood, aged a decade in one night. "Marcus wanted them to hurt like he hurt. Strain C gave him the power to make it happen."
"And killed him in the process."
"He knew. Didn't care. Said six hours of strength was worth more than sixty years of weakness."
Maya's claws extended involuntarily. The wolf in her wanted to howl, to hunt, to add to the body count. But that was Marcus's path, and it ended here.
"There were survivors," Tommy said. "Three Chimera soldiers. They're in custody, but they're enhanced. Department can't hold them long."
"They'll disappear. Like everyone connected to government enhancement programs."
"Unless someone with equal strength questions them first."
Maya looked at him sharply. "You're not suggesting—"
"I'm stating facts. You're one of the strongest lycanthropes in the city. If anyone could make them talk..."
"I'm not my uncle."
"No. You're smarter. More controlled. But Maya, they killed Derek. Marcus found proof—communications, orders. These aren't rogue soldiers. Someone's building an enhanced army."
Maya closed her uncle's eyes. Three family members dead. How many more before it ended?
Her phone buzzed. Melissa: *Breakthrough with 2.0. Need test subject. Someone willing to risk everything.*
She looked at Marcus's body. He'd risked everything for revenge and found only death. But what if the risk was for something better?
"Where are the survivors being held?" she asked Tommy.
"Don't do this, Maya. Not like this."
"I'm not going to torture them. But I am going to get answers. One way or another." She stood. "Tell the department I'm coming in as a consultant. Supernatural liaison. Whatever paperwork keeps it legal."
"And if they won't talk?"
"Then I demonstrate why Derek refused their recruitment. Some of us don't need enhancement to be dangerous. We just need a reason."
An hour later, Maya sat across from Lieutenant Sarah Cross, enhanced human, Project Chimera recruiter, and according to Marcus's evidence, Derek's killer.
"Ms. Chen," Cross said calmly despite the reinforced restraints. "Your brother spoke highly of you. Said you were the future of human-supernatural cooperation."
"Did he say that before or after you murdered him?"
"I didn't murder him. I offered him purpose. He declined. His death was... regrettable but necessary."
Maya's control cracked. Just for a second. Long enough for her eyes to flash gold, for Cross to see the predator beneath the civilized surface.
"Necessary?"
"We're at war, Ms. Chen. Not between humans and supernaturals. Between those who accept the new reality and those who cling to the old. Your brother wanted to go back. Make things like they were. But evolution only moves forward."
"Evolution. Friend said the same thing before they died."
Cross smiled. "Friend was a visionary. Showed us what individuals could become. Chimera is about what armies can become. Enhanced soldiers, loyal to humanity's future."
"Whose future? Who's running Chimera?"
"Someone who understands that the strong must lead. That power without purpose is chaos." Cross leaned forward. "Join us, Maya. You're already enhanced. Help us guide the others. Shape the world instead of reacting to it."
"Like you shaped my brother? My uncle?"
"Casualties of progress. But their deaths can mean something if you—"
Maya moved. Faster than thought. Her hand closed on Cross's throat, claws extending just enough to draw blood.
"Their deaths already mean something," she growled. "They mean I stop you. All of you. Whatever it takes."
But as guards rushed in, as she released Cross and stepped back, Maya knew the truth. She could kill every Chimera soldier and more would rise. Because the promise of power was stronger than the fear of death.
Outside the interrogation room, Melissa waited.
"I heard about your uncle," the girl said. "I'm sorry."
"He chose his path." Maya's voice was steady. "Tell me about the breakthrough."
"Chance 2.0 works. Non-addictive. Temporary. Safe." Melissa hesitated. "But it needs a specific genetic marker to activate. Only about 10% of humans have it."
"Let me guess. The marker correlates with those who've survived Chance exposure."
"How did you—"
"Because that's how the universe works. Power demands sacrifice. Always." Maya thought of Marcus, fighting until his body gave out. Of Derek, refusing power to stay human. "I'll find your test subjects. People who've paid the price but still want to help."
"Maya... there's something else. The genetic marker? It's not random. It's inherited. My mother had it. I have it." Melissa met her eyes. "And according to our research, your family has it too. Derek would have been a perfect candidate."
Another cruel irony. Derek could have had power without corruption, if he'd just lived long enough.
But that was the city now. A graveyard of might-have-beens, built on the bones of good intentions.
---
*Detective Kathleen "Angel" Hyatt*
The entrance to Solomon's lab was hidden beneath a condemned subway station. Kathleen descended alone—she'd told no one about Prophet's map. Too many leaks, too many agendas. This needed to end quietly.
The first level was standard—computers, chemistry equipment, refrigeration units. But the elevator went deeper. Much deeper.
Level -2: Failed experiments in jars. Tissue samples that moved despite being severed from their hosts.
Level -3: Holding cells, empty but for scratches on the walls. Some looked human. Others... didn't.
Level -4: The garden.
Kathleen stopped at the threshold, mind struggling to process what she saw. It had been a testing facility once. Now it was an ecosystem. Plants she didn't recognize grew wild, fed by broken pipes and bioluminescent fungi. And moving among them—
"Subjects," she whispered.
They'd been human once. Or supernatural. Now they were something between, neither fully one thing nor another. A woman with bark for skin tended to flowers that bled. A man with too many joints crawled along the ceiling, feeding on moths drawn to the fungal lights.
"Detective Hyatt."
She spun, weapon drawn. Solomon stood behind her—or what was left of him. Half his face showed the bone beneath, the other half shifted between human and... something else. His lab coat was stained with substances that defied color.
"You're supposed to be dead."
"Death is a transition. I've transitioned several times." He gestured to the garden. "Welcome to the future. Or the past. Time gets fluid when you're between states."
"Prophet sent me. Said you had Alpha-Omega here."
Solomon laughed. It sounded like breaking glass. "Prophet. My greatest success and failure. Did she tell you what Alpha-Omega really does?"
"Species transformation."
"Species liberation. The end of binary existence. Human or supernatural? Why not both? Why not neither?" He moved closer, and Kathleen saw his skin ripple. "I've tested every strain on myself. X, Y, Z, Alpha through Omega. I am evolution incarnate."
"You're insane."
"Sanity is a constraint. Like species. Like mortality." He pulled out a vial—the same prismatic liquid Prophet had shown her. "One dose. Become anything. Everything. Nothing."
"People are dying. The city's tearing itself apart."
"Creation requires destruction. Ask your god. Ask Darwin. Ask anyone who's ever built something new." Solomon turned to his garden. "These subjects volunteered. Addicts. Dying from bad strains. I offered them transformation instead of death."
"That's not living."
"No? Watch."
He whistled—a sound no human throat should make. The creatures in the garden responded, gathering. The bark-woman spoke first, voice like wind through leaves:
"We were dying. Chance burning us hollow. Solomon gave us choice. New forms. New purposes."
"We tend the garden," the ceiling-crawler added. "Feed the growth. Birth new possibilities."
"We are happy," they said in unison.
Kathleen's skin crawled. "You've brainwashed them."
"I've freed them. From addiction. From identity. From the war between human and supernatural." Solomon held out the Alpha-Omega vial. "Join us. See what you could become."
"I know what I am. Human. Flawed. Mortal. But human."
"Even after everything you've seen? The enhanced tearing each other apart? The supernaturals hoarding power? The government building armies? You still choose limitation?"
"I choose choice. Real choice. Not this." She gestured at the garden. "Where's the rest? The Omega strain. The research."
Solomon's expression shifted—sadness beneath the madness. "Level -5. My final laboratory. But Detective, once you see what's there, you can't unsee. Can't unknow."
"I'll take that risk."
He handed her a keycard. "The elevator requires biological authorization. My DNA. Or..." He smiled. "Anyone who's taken Alpha-Omega. Prophet could have come herself. She chose to send you. Ask yourself why."
The elevator was at the far end of the garden. Kathleen moved through the transformed subjects, trying not to see the humanity still trapped in their eyes. At the door, she turned back.
"Why show me this? Why not stop me?"
"Because someone needs to witness. To remember. When the world changes—and it will change, Detective—someone needs to know what we gave up. And what we gained."
The elevator descended. Level -5 was a single room. In the center, a containment unit. Inside—
"No," Kathleen breathed.
Hundreds of vials. Not just Alpha-Omega. Every strain Solomon had created. Enough to transform the entire city. The entire world. And at the center, a timer counting down.
47:33:21... 47:33:20...
A note was taped to the containment unit: "Evolution is not optional. In 48 hours, this facility will release all strains simultaneously. The city will adapt or die. This is my gift. My curse. Choose wisely. - E.S."
Kathleen stared at the timer. Two days to decide the fate of Chicago. Maybe humanity.
Prophet had known. Had sent her here not to stop Alpha-Omega, but to decide whether to let Solomon's final experiment proceed.
She thought of Chris Jergenson, dead from wanting to be more than human. Of Maya, trying to bridge worlds that seemed determined to destroy each other. Of Karen Dergors, whose noble dream had become a nightmare.
The timer ticked down.
47:32:58... 47:32:57...
Kathleen pulled out her phone. No signal this deep. She was alone with the biggest decision in human history.
Above her, Solomon's garden grew. His subjects sang in harmonies human ears weren't meant to hear. And somewhere in the city, people were still fighting over scraps of power, unaware that evolution's countdown had already begun.
---