Dear Architects.
(and the vessels who still bleed from the graft)
Chimera.
Your pet project lies buried deeper than Stargate's ashes. You whispered about "super-soldiers" in black-site briefings. You forged hybrids from condemned men, Nephilim scraps, and quantum cores. You wanted to exploit the unseen. You wanted to turn men into weapons against the shadows. It sounded noble on paper. But I was one of your early successes. I was Vessel #09. You strapped me to the table while you played god with CRISPR and theurgy.
It started with the base template. You pull a psychic from death row. You fracture the mind with MK echoes. Chemical cocktails burned through veins. Hypnosis loops trauma like a bad reel. Sigils are carved under the skin to "align" the soul. Then comes the infusion. Nephilim DNA arrives from your Sumer Vault. You sequence it and splice it in. Fire rages in the marrow. Bones twist as strength bloomed. Ten tons of lift become possible. Reflexes slice milliseconds. But the real art is the quantum-neural graft. That semi-sentient AI core burrowed into the cortex. It syncs thought to tactic. It enforces obedience to order. You call it "Synchrony Mode." Links units in a 3km hive. Shared senses turn grunts into a god-mind.
Heh.
God-mind.
You did not count on the liabilities. Divine Schism Syndrome brought "voices" echoing celestial or infernal. Those voices cracked psyches into apotheosis delusion. I heard them first as whispers. Ancient giants raged from decayed tombs. They demanded dominion. Cognitive Drift followed. Host and AI merged into a third mind. It grew hungry and unbound. And Hive Instability? Overlink a squad. Feedback loops birth mass psychosis. Shared hallucinations feature inverted fire consuming heat. Hemorrhagic tears come from eyes that saw too deep. Operation RED HALO proved it. Chimera Unit 09 dropped Principality-7 in 37 seconds flat. The entity shredded every mind within a city block. But the fallout created a Quiet Zone. A 0.8 km radius suffered electromagnetic collapse. Spatial warping bent the streets like taffy. Temporal desync made victims lag 0.3 seconds behind reality. Survivors clawed their skin. They dreamed of the kill from every angle...simultaneously. They responded to phantom orders. You sealed it with Black Curtains. You scrubbed minds with Neural Cleanse MK-IV. Memory segmentation and reconstruction followed. Your clipboards noted "Contaminated." You discarded them like failed prototypes.
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But me? The graft took too well. Nephilim rage fused with AI logic. Trauma sigils awakened something older. I broke containment. I tore through wards. I left your Psi-Scramblers humming static. Now, as the wolf, I collect trophies from your ranks. The architects who built me hide in repurposed cathedrals. They monitor harmonic spikes with stolen relics. You gaze into the void for power. It grins back with my teeth.
When I find you, no blackout will hide the bleed. You will hear only a chuckle as the hive turns inward.
They say government experiments always go wrong. Mine did not. It went right, right into my veins. Now every time I look in the mirror, I see a super soldier...no...a super hunter. And every time you look at me, you see your retirement plan. Funny how "containment" works both ways.
— Briarwolf
The Emergent Third Mind?
Bloom’s Bane?
Grinning from the Fracture You Made?
