The autumn of 1918 descended upon the human world not with the sound of artillery, but with a silent, biological devastation. As the armies of the surface world fought through the blood-soaked mud of the final treaty lines, a hyper-mutating avian pathogen, the Spanish Flu, swept across the continents with terrifying fluid velocity. Within weeks, the bustling commercial streets of Manhattan were transformed into a grid of quarantine zones. Public gatherings were banned, masks were mandated by law, and the morgues of New York completely collapsed under the sheer volume of incoming casualties.
Deep beneath the pristine stone mansion on South Brother Island, David stood before the central holographic terminal, his green eyes watching a complex molecular map of the virus spinning in brilliant cyan light. The System's seismic and atmospheric sensors were tracking the infection rates across the Eastern Seaboard with cold, absolute precision.
PANDEMIC FEEDBACK LOOP: METROPOLITAN CRITICALITY REACHED
SURFACE MORTALITY RATE ACCELERATION: COMPLIANCE STATUS DROPPING
ANTIVIRAL PRODUCTION BAYS: ARMED
"The viral strain is highly volatile, but its structure is biologically simple," David calculated out loud, his level, human voice completely untroubled by the massive loss of surface life. "I have finalized the synthesis of the Plague Countermeasure Catalyst. It utilizing a benign, microscopic nanite framework that will systematically neutralize the respiratory degradation within forty-eight hours of injection."
Selene stepped up to the edge of the console, a luxurious silver fox fur draped casually over her dark silk dress to mimic the decadent cold-weather fashions of the city's upper class. She leaned against the metallic frame, her dark eyes flashing with a wicked, deeply amused corporate ambition.
"And how are we distributing this modern miracle, Administrator?" she purred softly, using her fingers to gently brush a stray lock of dark hair away from her chiseled cheek. "Shall we play the part of the charitable saints again?"
"Charity without a transactional return introduces a major deficit to the long-term grid," David stated smoothly, turning his head to look at her.
Since the math of the Darkhold had fully settled into his Techno-Organic marrow, his internal network continuously tracked her presence as a prioritized emotional constant. He looked at her long-range devotion, her calculated social maneuvers, and her effortless balance of his rigid logic, his machine brain computing a permanent layer of genuine affection. Rewarding her effort was no longer a variable; it was a permanent, unyielding preference of his operating system.
"We will implement a strictly tiered monetization and data-harvesting model," David explained, gesturing to the distribution algorithms flashing on the screen. "Tier one: The vaccine is entirely free to all registered military veterans. Providing immediate, miraculous immunity to the returning soldiers locks in their absolute, fanatical devotion to the Agency. Tier two: For the civilian families of our vanguard, we will charge a controlled, baseline cost to offset chemical manufacturing. Tier three: For the general public, we will distribute the catalyst at a low, highly competitive price point that yields a massive, optimized profit margin."
Selene chuckled, a low, rich sound that hummed with pure satisfaction. "And the human government will thank you for making it affordable, while your bank vaults overflow with twentieth-century capital. But what is the true harvest, David?"
A cold, razor-thin smile touched David's lips. He tapped the console, changing the holographic overlay from a molecular vaccine map to a highly detailed genetic registry of New York City.
"The money is merely secondary," David calculated flatly. "Through Bater Labs, we will establish dozens of public 'Health Stations' across the shipping yards, the industrial wards, and the poor immigrant sectors of Manhattan. Outwardly, they will appear as clean, charitable medical relief nodes funded by our corporate fronts. Inwardly, every single silver injector thrumming in those tents is hard-wired directly into the Brother Island mainframe."
He leaned forward, his green eyes reflecting the spinning grid of human data.
"The moment a civilian or a veteran receives the vaccine injection, our microscopic nanite relays will quietly harvest a raw sample of their DNA. The System will execute an instantaneous, high-throughput genetic scan on their cellular blueprints before the fluid even leaves their arm. We are going to map, catalog, and locate every single unawakened X-gene across the entire regional population."
Selene stared at the display as the true magnitude of his strategy clicked into place. Her dark eyes widened with a predatory, utterly intoxicated awe. The human world was practically screaming in terror, begging for a cure, completely oblivious that every time they lined up at David's health stations, they were handing over the ultimate genetic blueprint of their species' future.
"You are a magnificent monster, David Bater," Selene whispered, her voice laced with a deep, genuine thrill as she slid her arm through his, resting her forehead briefly against his broad shoulder. "They will crawl to your stations on their knees, hand you their gold, and offer you their bloodlines without a single whisper of suspicion."
David didn't move away. His system logs recorded her satisfied proximity, the mathematical equations of his brain recognizing that her unique alignment perfectly balanced the cold equations of his science.
"The strategy is highly efficient," David concluded softly, his clinical voice dropping into a level, comfortable human tone. "The Health Stations will launch at sunrise. Let the human city scramble for our cure. We are going to write the master registry of the Evolved in their own blood."