The year is 2085. The world is a patchwork of scavenged metal and desperate hope. The unspecified apocalypse that reshaped the globe left behind shattered skylines, rampant wilderness, and pockets of struggling humanity. Civilization, as it was known, is gone, replaced by a gritty, survivalist ethos. Resources are scarce, and danger lurks in every shadow, be it mutated creatures, desperate scavengers, or the omnipresent threat of The Chronos Syndicate.
The Syndicate, a clandestine organization, rose from the ashes of the old world. They are the new supreme authority, using advanced technology, surveillance, and psychological manipulation to control the populace. Their goal: to harness the remnants of alien technology and create their own super-soldiers, mirroring Dr. Orion's dark ambition. They are cold, calculating, and ruthlessly efficient.
Deep within a long-forgotten, overgrown scientific base – the very one that crumbled centuries ago – a group of curious students ventured, playing among the ruins. Unwittingly, in a forgotten sub-level, they stumbled upon an ancient console. A few curious prods, a shower of sparks, and then, a hiss of escaping gas. The cryo-chamber opened.
From the swirling mist emerged a boy, still exactly 15 years old. His eyes, wide and unblinking, took in the alien world of 2085. His skin, now a profound, shiny black, seemed to absorb the light. He possessed genetic superpowers never known to man, but he knew nothing of them, nothing of the future, nothing of his past. He was an empty slate, a terrifyingly powerful enigma.
The students, baffled but intrigued by this strange, silent boy, decided to do the only thing they could think of: they took him home. They were oblivious to the true nature of their discovery, seeing him as a strange survivor, an oddity, perhaps a victim of some unknown catastrophe. He didn't speak, didn't react with fear or wonder, just observed.