Prologue:

For many, the solar eclipse of 1999 was just a simple viewing of the wonders of Earth's rotational ballette around the sun--For a cursed few, or perhaps blessed, it brought on the black dawn of their new reality; A radioactive deluge that nearly killed anyone with an unknown factor in their D.N.A. that interacted so negatively that many died in the first 24 hours of being exposed to the lethal rays.

An even more diminutive percentage of humans, consisting of a majority of babies and toddlers, were subject to radical changes to their genetic makeup that scientists scrambled to study in an effort to understand the anomaly.

Panic and paranoia set in quickly. Sightings of strange abilities sparked rampant conspiracy theories and a surge of viral misinformation. Parents wondered if their children were still truly their own, neighbors eyed each other with mistrust, and self-proclaimed experts peddled cruel distortions on cable news.

After a decade of rampant kidnapping from shady governmental figures, dangerous cults, and greedy corporate entities the only major scientific breakthrough was that this event may have caused the evolutionary jump that humans experienced millions of years ago.

A simple tampering from an outside force that was heavily argued by religious groups and scholars alike. Was this the hand of god pushing the forsaken Armageddon through his chosen people? Were the simple truths of nature taking over from where they left off an epoch ago? None knew the answer but the people felt the terror of replacement more than they cared to delve into its enigma.

Violent rounding up of the more dangerous, or more often the more obvious “Aberrant”, was commonplace in America by 2010. The government upped the reward to nearly half a million and made it a top priority of the CIA.

In the ensuing chaos and escalating bloodshed on both sides, the President's hard-line stance became increasingly unpalatable to much of the nation. When he pushed for internment camps during a fateful Oval Office address, it proved a step too far. Mere days later, he was cut down by an assassin's bullet

The acting vice president, An Aberrant named " Cecil Smith, took much less care with his approach to his own kind; Instead of the exploitation and scientific camps they were crammed into, the remaining vestiges of the solar event found themselves sought out by death squads and fevered nationalistic citizens alike.

After what could only be labeled as one of the greatest witch hunts in American history, in 2020 the economic foundations that were shattered behind the closed curtains of the hysteria finally came to light in a massive scandal that caused the storming of the capitol in D.C.

The aftermath brought with it a more strict approach to what the government was allowed to do and also what was acceptable for how these Aberrents were treated.

At least, that is what it was told to the masses...

Chapter 1:

An explosion rang out from the dark underbelly of the Argentinian jungle housing one of Trayger INC's most prized genetic farms, shards of searing hot metal and debris rained heavier than the monsoon that drenched the entire valley that night.

Within moments the hundreds of personnel were lit ablaze, much of them trapped inside by the facility's automatic doors that were meant to contain any subject too unwieldy for the armored guards. A lockdown sequence was all it took to activate the main ventilation system delivery of ignited oxygen and helium.

From under a half-molten bunker door, there was a small whimper among the whipping flames and pouring rain. Viggo Gabriel, or Vitriol to the teasing scientist who prodded his body since he was an embryo, pushed past the layers of ashes and destroyed concrete to take breath into his ripped lungs.

With a screeching wail into howling jungle winds, he grasped at the empty holes that were once his eyes; The explosion had completely melted over 90% of his body but amazingly he was still alive. With great effort and agony, the Aberrant brought his mangled body to the edge of the whipping fires.

The icy rain stung his exposed meat more than the dying blaze had damaged it, scales quickly forming where his epidermis layer used to be fleshy. The surge of adrenaline compelled Viggo to unleash a blood-curdling outcry that tapered off into the symphony of animal noise cast from the jungle.

He could taste the metallic tang of his own blood, the blurred vision returning to him from where he once had eyes, and the blitzing rush of knife-like pain that jutted from the ridges of his skull. He squealed and flung himself into a pile of sooty ash and soil, still smelling the smoke of the fire over his distress but now sensing the many different aromas he had never had the chance to experience.

The misery subsided with another rush of animalistic adrenaline. Viggo clawed at the ribbons that held his melted eyes to the corner of his sockets, the itch becoming more unbearable with each bulge of his new set of eyes. With a panicked yank, Viggo severed the gooey ties to his old sight.

He then suddenly was scared numb by the immediate return of his hearing. The far-off cries of nocturnal birds, the flow of water into deep wells beneath his feet, and most dread-inducing of all; The labored struggle of another person who had survived the destruction of the hidden black-site.

Viggo tried to scramble to the nearest tree, his bones still readjusting to the new weight of his scales just as the bullet of a desert eagle ripped through the right hemisphere of his brain. Hot brain matter splattering to the floor in steamy chunks, the altered black-ops agent hitting his target with precise aim.

Without any hesitation the man let out a loud laugh that mocked the plight of the Aberrant he had just plastered to the jungle flora. "You little shit! I almost died...How the fuck am I gonna explain this to Mira?" A hunk of phlegm landed close to the lower half of Viggo's still body.

In the glittering hills of opulent Hollywood California, Seraphina Marker took a bow to signify her fake appreciation for the honor of being named Vice President of her mother's company. She felt that it was a very unimportant achievement seeing as Seraphina was the sole heir to her mother's vast billion-dollar fortune after her father and brother's death 4 years ago.

The almost blinding yellow lights of the gala in her mansion's stately parlor made it hard to give any emotion besides her practiced measure and grace, feeling the dozens of eyes meaning nothing compared to the raptor-like glare of your mother. Just beyond the edge of the crowd sat the woman who sanctioned her birth, resting her overworked and drunk limbs in a large African monarch-inspired throne that she had custom-made for her alone.

After dodging much of the scattered conversation, Seraphina found herself on the connected balcony that once was a place for her and her father to paint and practice their shared love of art. The small crumbled autumn leaves still reminded her of the different hues of the exotic colors they were able to afford. She tried to fight back the many tears she held over the years.

Feeling uneasy about making a scene or leaving marks of her sorrow, Seraphina wiped her face before taking in the cold night air. Each new intake was a clarity that she was not meant to be here, her destiny was not to take over the vast corporate schemes of her mother; Seraphina was much more than a greedy mogul at heart, wanting nothing more than to fling herself from the terrace off the hillside in an attempt to escape this suffocated existence she saw for herself.

The fantasy ended when the usual realization that the drop would not kill her with her CRISPR genetics and military training in survival, nor would it allow her to get away from the endless supply of mercenaries her mother Mira Marker would send after her once she reached the main city of L.A. Only once before did she attempt to get away when she was 16; Only ending with the maid that helped her being taken to a black-site and summarily executed for trying to release a government asset.

"What's wrong Sera?" Hearing the sounds of another person instead of her own thoughts made her reflexively flinch into a fighting stance, her skinny heels scraping the marble tiles of the balcony. "Calm down, it's just me, kid." The gravelly voice became recognizable over her training, it was her mother's security chief; Douglas McMann.

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"Nothing...It is nothing, I just--" Seraphina stole a glance at the many tycoons making themselves overly comfortable in what was supposed to be her family's new home. "I do not understand, how could all these men and women dance and drink while they siphon off others...Tonight is nothing more than a 500,000 dollar waste of time."

Douglas took a sharp inhale of the cigarette in his calloused hands, small creases forming on his dark forehead. "It is a party for you Sera, should at least make the best of it." He began to lean over the edge of the railings near her, his face was stoney but the expression his words gave off did not match the stoic facade, Seraphina could clearly tell the event did not sit well with the large New Yorker either.

"Try to think of it like this..." The man flicked the lit ending of the cigarette toward the empty pool of a neighbor below. "You're gonna have to make much harder choices from here on out. Your dad would be proud of you for keeping it together so well." Seraphina used all of her strength to keep back another wave of tears from breaking the frontline of her woven mask.

"My father would not care for all this...We would probably be sneaking off to get pizza with Delvin if," She didn't want to say the words, to say them would cement them forever in the coffins they already laid in. Seraphina felt every moment tick by as a gnaw that hungered her heart deeper than any want for freedom, it was their connection, not her mothers that kept the family together for so long.

Seraphina tilted her head to the starless L.A. sky, eyes damming the floodgate of her core. The orange glow of the city made it impossible to see the luminaries that once lit her past. Many years in Argentina had formed an unmistakable bond between them and her. Years by their limelight were as gone as her father in their guidance now. "I wish I could just see them. One last time, to hold Delvin--To be around my father, one last time."

The car accident that stole the lives of her beloved kin raced through her mind. Douglas wiped a solitary water streak from his scarred face, turning to face Seraphina's upward gaze. "I don't know what to say, kid." The normal advice was lacking from the woman's god-father, still trying to keep himself from the same folly as her of crying over such a severe loss.

"Tell me there is something more, that life is not as simple as birth and death--I no longer can sleep." Making a stare that could make a dagger bleed with its sharpness, Seraphina's voice made certain that she was not only speaking of the existential crisis. The black tendrils of straight hair made it hard to pinpoint the exact sentiment displayed on her light brown face.

Taken aback by the forwardness of her speech the grizzled guard tried to pivot his face now away from Seraphina. "Sometimes--Sometimes you can't choose what you get in life, y'know? I used to just be your dad's best friend. Back before they closed off Old York and tanked the bridges!"

She knew the story but did not want to ruin the moment with how little she could handle the reminiscence of her carefree and loving father. "He used the last of his money to get us both out, nearly 60,000 a ticket--And he spent it all on getting us out of that hell hole. I owe him my life...Owed," A grunt of solace was all he could muster in condolence.

Seraphina mulled over pressing the issue further but to her surprise, the man spoke up what was truthfully in his heart to her instead of lying as always. "If you want to go...You should go--I've learned a few things after the DA finally unsealed your father's case; 1, a brand new Rolls Royce doesn't have brake failure fresh out the factory,"

"And 2, your mother is one cold woman...I would be careful with how you move forward." After bumping shoulders with Seraphina he stepped back into the noisy party, the opening of the door spilling forth the obnoxious glee of the mansion's affluent populace.

Seraphina nearly broke her neck spinning her view to catch her mother, staring her down while guzzling another shimmering glass of golden champagne. A clap of thunder broke the now silent retreat Seraphina floated above, taken completely out of her body and mind's grasp at the revelation. Her mother raised the sip with a frigid nod of her petite chin, sending chills down Seraphina's spine.

The morning light broke unevenly through the holed ceiling of the Rosamond house that bordered the edge of L.A. county, upsetting the occupant of the filthy mattress to a level of outright wrath. "FUUUUUUUCK! Goddamn roof! Goddamn sun! Fuck this!" The ex-junior Olympian rolled to his feet from the broken bed that he wanted to break into a thousand pieces.

Walter Skii was putting his foot through the hole of his best-smelling sweatpants just before hearing the sounds of loud moaning coming from the connected wall of his father's room. "For Fuck's sake..." Walter thrust his remaining leg into the garment, clasping one of his ears to the horrid noises emanating from the thin drywall.

Wasting no time to even glance at the wandering vagrants and drug addicts strewn out on the floor of the "pharmaceutical" den they rented from his grandfather, Walter dodged one of the more handsy older women who made it a habit to be essentially glued to the couch of his home from heroin intake. "Water...Please....Water..."

Ignoring the self-imposed drought she took it upon herself to not simply walk to her dealer's sink and take a sip of the Antelope Valley well water his father advertised to accommodate lodging with the purchase of wares. "Get a cup and drink lady, I'm not on the clock."

"Fuck you ain't." Unaware of his father taking a break from the loud lovemaking that he wanted to use to slip past him, Walter became thoroughly cognizant that he would now be forced to work the corner or make another delivery. "Sun's up--You aren't gonna live here for free Dickhead, Also, stop pestering one of my favorite customers!"

The statement was ironic to Walter as his dad did not pay rent for them to live there; He kicked out Walter's grandfather and moved him to a sweltering retirement home the moment that he found Walter's mother overdosed. The grief was used to take the responsibility from the sorrowful older man, his son-in-law snaking his way through the insurance money meant for his grandson and his familial home.

"Your preferred client pissed herself again--Maybe that's why she needs more waaaaateeeer." Walter's sarcasm infuriated his father, needing to dodge a wobbly left hook while ducking through the front door. "Asshat." Walter took in the cold morning air, feeling like ice crystals formed when he breathed. He felt much better being outside and in the open desert that bordered the unfenced-two-bedroom home.

Walter hopped into his mom's old Camry, praying that the engine was not too cold to start as he saw the dreadlocks of his father swinging from behind the door frame. "SHIT SHIT--Shit, come one!" Fumbling the keys in the ignition for a moment Walter got the engine to start. Crushing the gas pedal with his bruised foot and peeling off from the dirt road, Walter contemplated the rest of his day; Not wanting to waste it again smoking weed and whining about his expulsion from the Olympics.

The subject was nearly as sore to him as his mother’s death. Unbeknownst to him or aware of the matter, it caused him to push his rusty vehicle to its limit as he sped onto the asphalt road leading to the main city of Palmdale CA. Walter took note of the chasing tumbleweeds and clouds of dust forming behind him, not wanting to yield for the coming stop sign but pausing his foot over the brakes.

After looking down the long roads and finding no sign of other cars, Walter slammed his foot further to the pedal. His engine redlined as it roared to 90 miles per hour, just as sirens took their turn wailing into the most vocal show of his car’s terrible muffler. Walter cursed under his breath; The half gram of cocaine and few joints would not go over well with the sheriff, he knew the only sheriff prowling the edge of the county would be his mother’s jilted ex-boyfriend, Sheriff Clancy Clementine.

The small Glock-17 resting under his leg called Walter. He did not want to go to jail or have to deal with the consequences of trying to blow off some steam because of some random man’s vendetta against his father and him. The gun beckoned his ears psychosomatically, begging him to not end his shitily short stint as a petty dealer so soon.

Being lifted from the devil’s call to action by the incoming cascade of color and energy blitzing above him and stamping onto the brakes of his Vehicle. The sudden stop caused the pursuing Clancy to collide violently into the back of Walter and sent his car careening into a shallow dirt embankment just beyond the road, Walter braced himself as his vehicle flipped numerous times into a dusty field of the High Desert. The scream of the object piercing through even his own vehicle’s tumble into the soil and rocks.

A deafening explosion rocked the road Walter had just been driving that blew out his eardrums, causing him to scream in agonized pain. His body was thoroughly pinned beneath the crushed front of his cabin, blood gushing from just above his right eye and mixing into his faint vision.

From the haze, Walter was able to make out the fiery blaze of Clancy’s own crash and painfully pulled his sundered hand from the underside of the crushed steering wheel. Something much more horrifying than even his misery stepped from the green flames of the crater that took place off the road; The sloshing and goopy form of an amber-colored slime-based humanoid.

Reeling from the emergence, Walter tried to whimper in silence at his many injuries the best he could. His blood and pinned body made it near impossible to truly take in the makeup of the creature gradually making its way toward him. Its body was pulled by tendrils instead of walking in earnest much like a centipede, gasping at the oxygen in a low pitch reverberation that rattled Walter’s teeth.

He swallowed the fear, slicing his forearm on a jutting metal shard to both wipe his eyes and begin to assess how extensive he was hurt. A short scream unfortunately alerted the mass to now quickly lunge its way toward Walter, its body arcing with the extra exertion. The sulphuric smoke-filled air billowed around its body as it began to attempt to engulf the entire sedan in one horrifying show of how viscous its light orange makeup was.

Within seconds of its acknowledgment of Walter, it was lapping up the open wounds of his body while blocking any means of exit, the blood flowing from the many opened pores into a pool in the center that began to illuminate the feast it was enjoying. Walter tried to fight and squirm but the different hooks latched onto the entrances to his many cuts and scrapes, the most painful being the one above his eye that burrowed deep into his calcified pineal gland. Worming a deep sharp itch that tingled his spine with the invasion.