Rain tapped against the dirty glass of the lab's single window, its rhythm soft and steady like a metronome marking time in a forgotten place. The lab itself reeked of burnt chemicals and rotting ethics. Wires snaked across the floor like veins. Beakers filled with strange, glowing liquids vibrated with unseen tension. And in the farthest corner, slouched in a rusted metal chair, was a boy, no older than ten, skinny, bruised, silent.
His name was unknown to most. Ryan didn't care to ask.
Ryan stood over a metal table, a syringe in one hand, a notebook filled with unreadable formulas in the other. His dark hair hung over his eyes, hiding the coldness behind them. On the surface, he looked clean. Calm. Handsome even. But inside, his mind was twisted, riddled with obsession and greed.
"Hold still," Ryan muttered, kneeling beside the boy.
The boy didn't flinch. He was too tired, too broken to resist. His eyes, once full of life, were now empty. Hollow.
Ryan pressed the syringe into the boy's arm and injected the liquid, watching closely. "Let's see what this version does to you," he said, his voice flat like a dead heartbeat.
The boy trembled for a moment. Then, silence.
Ryan scribbled notes in his book, excitement growing in his chest. He was getting closer. Closer to the perfect formula. The one that would earn him everything. Power. Recognition. And most of all, money.
He turned to his laptop and clicked open an encrypted call. A man's face appeared on the screen, shadowed in low lighting, only his sharp jawline and thin mouth visible.
"Felix," Ryan greeted. "It's almost ready."
Felix's voice was smooth, dangerous. "I trust you're not wasting my time."
"Never," Ryan said. "You'll have a sample within days. This version is more potent, more stable than the last. No more seizures. No vomiting. Just... obedience."
Felix's lips curled into a smirk. "Perfect. You know the deal. If it works, I'll buy it in bulk. Seven figures, upfront."
Ryan's mouth twitched upward. "Then get your wallet ready."
The call ended. Ryan closed the laptop and looked at the boy, who had now started sweating, his breath shallow. His body jerked once, then twice. His small hands clenched into fists. Blood trickled from his nose. But he didn't scream.
He never screamed.
Ryan stood and walked away. "I need you to survive, just for a little longer," he whispered.
Across the city, behind a dumpster soaked in rain and regret, a boy sat alone, hugging his bare knees. His ribs were visible beneath the skin. His lips were blue from the cold. His eyes, however, were sharp. Alive. Angry.
He was used to the streets, used to hunger, to filth, to men passing by pretending not to see. But tonight was different.
A man had been watching him for five minutes.
The boy slowly raised his head. Their eyes met.
Ryan stood in the distance, umbrella in hand, suit perfectly tailored, an unnatural smile spread across his lips.
"Cold night," Ryan said, stepping closer.
"Go away," the boy spat.
"You're interesting," Ryan continued, ignoring the warning in the boy's tone. "Strong jawline. Eyes like a wolf. You remind me of someone I used to know."
"Yeah?" The boy stood up, trembling but defiant. "Well you remind me of a rat."
Ryan's smile widened. "That's a new one."
"What do you want?" the boy barked, fists clenched.
Ryan stepped even closer. "You."
The boy froze. "What?"
"I want you," Ryan repeated, this time softer. "To help me with something... important."
"I'm not some toy," the boy growled. "I don't care who you are or how much money you have. I'll kill you if you touch me."
Ryan laughed, not mockingly, but like a man genuinely delighted. "Oh, I believe you would try."
"I'm serious," the boy warned, taking a pocket knife from his coat.
"I know," Ryan said, stepping even closer. "That's why I'm offering you a way out. Warm bed. Hot meals. And no more trash for dinner."
"I'd rather eat trash than owe you anything," the boy snapped.
"You haven't heard the full offer yet," Ryan said. His tone dropped an octave, now dark and whispery. "You help me, and I'll make you powerful."
"I don't need power," the boy said.
"Everyone does," Ryan whispered. "Even if they don't admit it."
They stood in the rain, silent, facing each other like two wolves circling before the fight.
Then, Ryan said something unexpected. "What's your name?"
The boy hesitated. "Why?"
"I want to know who you are before I change your life."
The boy narrowed his eyes. "Leo."
Ryan's smile returned. "Leo... You're going to be special."
Leo spat on the ground. "Get lost."
But Ryan didn't flinch. He simply turned around and began walking away. Then, over his shoulder, he said, "I'll be back tomorrow. Don't be here if you're not interested."
Leo stood in silence, watching the man disappear into the night. His heart was racing.
And for the first time in a long time, he wasn't sure if it was from fear... or curiosity.
Back in his lab, Ryan walked past the boy in the chair, still barely breathing. He opened a drawer, pulled out a small vial, and placed it in a black case labeled "Felix."
The drug was ready.
He poured himself a drink and sat down, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the table. His mind, however, was on Leo.
There was something different about that boy. Something untamed. Something powerful.
Ryan smiled to himself.
Leo wouldn't just be another test subject.
He would be something more.
Something... permanent.
Ryan stood over a metal table, a syringe in one hand, a notebook filled with unreadable formulas in the other. His dark hair hung over his eyes, hiding the coldness behind them. On the surface, he looked clean. Calm. Handsome even. But inside, his mind was twisted, riddled with obsession and void of remorse.
He turned his gaze toward the boy, who hadn't spoken in hours, maybe days. Ryan crouched beside him and pushed the syringe into the pale skin of the boy's arm. The liquid inside shimmered, thick and electric blue.
"There we go," Ryan murmured, almost to himself. "Let's see how you handle this dose."
The boy flinched slightly, his jaw tightening. His fingers gripped the metal armrest. But he didn't cry. He never cried.
Ryan smiled.
---
Elsewhere in the city, behind locked doors and velvet curtains, Felix was waiting.
Felix was not the kind of man you met on accident. If you heard his name, you were already too deep. If he smiled at you, he either wanted your business or your blood. Felix didn't run companies, he ran countries — quietly, through money, manipulation, and blackmail.
Tonight, he was dressed in tailored black, seated in his high-rise office overlooking the city. The skyline shimmered in the dark, glittering with false promises. He swirled a glass of bourbon between his fingers, checking the time.
The door opened with a soft hiss.
Ryan entered, unbothered by the guards or the tension that clung to the room like smoke.
"Late again," Felix said without turning around.
Ryan dropped a small case on the table and walked to the window. "You want results. I bring results."
Felix raised an eyebrow as he opened the case. Inside, nestled in black velvet, were three vials of the blue serum. They glowed faintly, as if alive.
"You've tested it?" Felix asked, eyes narrowing.
"On a living subject. Human."
Felix turned slowly. "Willing?"
Ryan smirked. "Does it matter?"
There was silence, heavy and sharp.
Felix closed the case and stood. "You realize the weight of what you've created?"
Ryan looked over his shoulder. "I created a tool. What you do with it is none of my concern."
Felix stepped closer. "It will make children hallucinate, shake, lose their sense of reality... But in the meantime, their minds will be sharp, their reflexes lightning-fast. You'll have created something more addictive than any narcotic. Students will beg for it. Schools will never know. Parents will approve."
Ryan nodded. "Then I want my cut. Fifty million. First batch."
Felix laughed. "You're ambitious."
"I'm realistic."
A long pause stretched between them.
Felix finally extended his hand. "We have a deal."
Ryan took it.
Their grip was firm, but neither of them trusted the other.
---
Back at Ryan's underground lab, the boy lay curled in the corner, sweat rolling down his neck. His pupils were dilated, and his hands shook uncontrollably. He whispered things to himself, voices only he could hear.
He saw figures in the darkness. The walls whispered secrets. He could smell the blood in the air.
But under the fear, something inside him shifted — like a wire tightening. A resolve forming.
If he lived through this, he would remember everything. Every look. Every bruise. Every injection.
And one day, he would escape.
---
Later that night, Ryan returned home, stepping into his mansion's silent hallway. A maid greeted him, nervous and tired.
"The boy is still... trembling," she said cautiously.
"Good," Ryan replied coldly. "It means the drug is working."
She frowned. "Sir, he—he bit one of the others. We had to restrain him."
Ryan's eyes flicked up. "No one touches him. I said he's mine."
"Yes, sir."
He walked past her and into the west wing of the house, down a flight of stairs into a hidden room — cleaner than the lab, but no less sterile. There, the boy sat in a padded chair, strapped at the ankles and wrists. His head lolled to the side, but his eyes were open.
Ryan knelt in front of him.
"Still breathing. Impressive."
The boy blinked slowly, trying to focus. "What... do you want?"
Ryan tilted his head. "Aren't you curious why I chose you?"
"I didn't ask to be chosen."
Ryan grinned. "But you survived. That's what matters."
The boy's voice cracked. "You're sick."
"Maybe. But I'm also brilliant."
He stood, walked to a desk in the corner, and opened a folder full of notes — brain scans, reaction times, vital signs.
"Your mind is adapting. You're changing. Soon, you'll be more than human."
"I don't want to be more. I want to be gone."
Ryan paused, looking back at him.
"You remind me of someone," he said.
The boy didn't answer.
"I was like you once," Ryan continued. "Alone. Forgotten. But I made a choice. I became someone they'd never forget."
He stepped closer, eyes gleaming.
"You can hate me. That's fine. Just don't waste your potential."
The boy stared at him, eyes dark.
"I won't be like you."
Ryan laughed softly. "That's what they all say."
---
That night, Ryan stood at his window, watching the rain return. He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply.
He didn't understand why the boy haunted his thoughts. He was just another experiment. Another tool. And yet...
Something about the fire in the kid's voice, the hatred, the strength — it stirred something in him.
Not guilt. Not remorse.
But memory.
A feeling he hadn't allowed himself to feel in decades.
And for the first time in years, Ryan wondered...
What if the boy broke free?
What if he wasn't just a subject, but a threat?
He smiled faintly.
Then let him try.