The sterile walls of the laboratory, once a haven for Adrian Falkenrath’s genius, now felt suffocating, almost suffocating him in the thick air of failure. The hum of fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as he sat at his desk, eyes fixed on the glowing screen in front of him, though nothing seemed to register. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, but no key was pressed. It was futile now. The message was clear. His work was done. The era of peace had ended. The funds were cut. The parasites were to be shelved.
He pushed the paper to the side, feeling the weight of his last experiment—an aborted dream. A glimmer of light shone from the glass vial next to him, but it was an illusion. The prototype of his parasite, the one he’d spent countless sleepless nights developing, was meant for testing, not for failure. A weaponized creature capable of attaching itself to its host, manipulating the human body in ways no one had ever dreamed of. It was beautiful in its design, chaotic in its potential.
“Dr. Falkenrath, your research grant has been revoked,” the email had said. His funding had been cut—just like that. They’d moved on. The war between Ukraine and Russia had ended, and with it, the need for such weapons was over. The global era of peace had arrived, and Adrian had become obsolete.
Obsolete. It was an unfamiliar word, a word that stung with the bitterness of defeat.
He hadn’t even been able to save his project. All his years of research, every sleepless night, every drop of sweat, now amounted to nothing. He wasn’t just losing his job; he was losing his very identity. The parasite project was his baby, his legacy, his obsession.
The door opened, cutting through his thoughts. His supervisor, a lanky man with thinning hair and a face as dull as the papers he shuffled, stepped inside.
“We’re sorry, Adrian,” he said, avoiding Adrian’s gaze. “The funding cuts were unexpected. You understand, right?”
“Understand?” Adrian echoed, his voice colder than the lab itself. His hands clenched into fists. “You’re asking me to understand while you destroy everything I’ve worked for? I’ve poured my life into this. Into this.” He gestured to the vial on the desk.
The supervisor cleared his throat uncomfortably. “You have to accept the reality. The world is changing, and so must we.”
Adrian stood abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. His eyes narrowed, and a dark, bitter smile twisted his lips. “The world is changing,” he repeated, his voice low. “And I’m the one who’s going to make sure it doesn’t forget me.”
With that, he grabbed the vial containing the parasite prototype. He was done with this place. Done with the lab. Done with these people who had never understood him, never appreciated the brilliance of his work. He grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulder and storming out of the office without another word.
Two days later, Adrian Falkenrath had vanished.
He withdrew all his funds and disappeared from the radar. No more government checks, no more interference from those who would destroy his life’s work. He found an old, abandoned underground parking garage in the depths of Magdeburg, far from the eyes of the world, far from the wreckage of his former life. It wasn’t much, but he’d turned it into a makeshift lab.
In the silence of his underground world, he rebuilt his research from the ground up. Discarded scraps of equipment, broken wires, and rusty tools became the new foundation of his sanctuary. He didn't care about the cost anymore. The world above had forgotten him, but down here, in the damp concrete, he could create again. He could finish what he had started.
His mind never stopped, even when his body was exhausted. The parasite—his creation—had become his obsession. Every waking moment was consumed by it. He refined it. Experimented with it. Tweaked its genetic code. The parasite was more than a bioweapon; it was a triumph of nature’s horrors, a triumph of his own dark genius. It could manipulate its host at the cellular level, twisting and warping the human body into something entirely new. It could infect, control, and dominate.
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The news reports on the small radio next to his cluttered workbench seemed to mock him as he carefully adjusted the microscope, studying the latest iteration of his parasite. It was almost perfect—almost—but the reports spoke of a different world. The war between Russia and Ukraine had ended, and a peace treaty had been signed. Countries across the globe were sending aid to help rebuild the war-torn nation. Humanity had come together in a way Adrian had never thought possible. The United Nations had shifted into the "Global Cooperation Act," a new body that promised to usher in an era of peace that, in Adrian’s mind, made his work obsolete. It was the beginning of a new age, one where weapons like his were no longer needed.
But for Adrian, peace was a bitter pill. The world’s newfound stability had led to a funding freeze in his department. His bioweapons project was no longer a priority. And that realization gnawed at him. Obsolete, the word echoed in his mind. He had spent the last twenty-eight years of his life working for something that was now irrelevant. The parasites—his parasites—were a symbol of everything he had sacrificed. The world had moved on, and he was left behind in the rubble of his own creation.
With each passing day, his anger grew. He clenched his fists, staring at the vial of prototype parasite. Not ready yet. Still too dangerous to test, he thought bitterly. But who was left to test it? The government? They didn’t care anymore. He had no allies, no one who would understand. He was alone, trapped in a world that no longer needed him.
The radio’s static buzzed in the background, filling the silence. He barely registered the voice of the reporter as they discussed the GCA’s expansion and the dawning era of peace. His thoughts raced, spiraling downward into fury. The parasite had been his last hope, his final contribution to science, and now it was meaningless. Peace had won, and Adrian had lost.
In a fit of frustration, he slammed his fist on the table, knocking over a beaker of chemicals. The liquid splashed across the papers, a harsh reminder of how much he had invested in his work. He didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything anymore. The world had moved on, and now it was his turn to move, too—though he didn’t know where he would go.
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The sound of footsteps above, soft at first, grew louder. Someone was approaching.
Adrian’s instincts kicked in. The garage door to his makeshift lab was locked, but his mind was racing. They couldn’t find him. Not now, not after everything he’d done. Not after what he had become. The world had no place for him anymore, and they couldn’t have his work.
Adrian grabbed the glass vial containing his prototype—the very last of his research—and ran to the back of the garage, behind stacks of old crates and metal barrels. He didn’t have time to think. He couldn’t stop now. He would complete his work.
Minutes later, the first workers appeared, their voices muffled above the concrete floor. They were just doing their jobs, unaware of the madness unfolding below. At first, they thought it was a drug lab. Too many chemicals. Too many vials. But when they saw the barrels, the strange fluids, they didn’t call it in as a drug operation.
They called the police.
The police forces, held back by the raging fire that had started from a stray bullet, were still regrouping. Adrian had seen the SWAT teams closing in through the cracks in his lab’s reinforced walls, but now he was alone, with only the echoes of their shouts bouncing through the corridors. The bullet wound in his side was beginning to rob him of the blood he needed to keep going, and the pain only made his frustration grow.
It was over. The parasite was incomplete. The newest iteration—the one he had worked on for so long—had just emerged from the lab and wasn’t even tested. Not that it mattered now. It was a failure, just like everything else.
Adrian’s body trembled as he collapsed at the edge of the freshwater supply. The steel of the tank seemed cold against his back, and his vision blurred as his body weakened. His mind, however, was still sharp. He knew this was the end.
Tears, unbidden, rolled down his face. But his expression was not one of sorrow—it was the mask of anger and pain, an angry defiance at the world that had abandoned him. Everything I’ve done for nothing, he thought. But then, as his last breath rattled in his chest, a grim thought took root: If I have to go, I'll go out on my terms.
With what little strength he had left, he reached for the vial containing the parasite solution. He had no idea what would happen after he swallowed it, but that didn’t matter. This was his final act of defiance. The thick, oily solution slid down his throat with the taste of crude oil and cherries, its viscosity nearly choking him as it coated his throat. Every muscle in his body screamed in protest, but he kept swallowing. The pain was nothing compared to the gnawing emptiness inside him.
His eyes closed, and his body slumped forward, falling into the dark waters of the freshwater storage. As he hit the surface, Adrian had no idea what the parasite would do next. He didn’t know that the moment he drowned, the parasite would release its eggs into the water, beginning a chain reaction that would change the world forever.