Berlin, Germany
The rain in Berlin was a cold, persistent drizzle that slicked the cobblestones of the narrow alleyways and reflected the sickly orange glow of the city's emergency lights. For Dr. Sophia Cohen, it was a curtain, a flimsy shield in a city that had become her hunting ground. Every splash in a puddle, every distant siren, was the sound of closing jaws.
She was a biologist, not a fugitive. Her world was supposed to be one of sterile labs, glowing data screens, and the quiet, thrilling hum of discovery. But she had seen where her discovery was headed. She had seen the military's hunger to turn her gene-editing research—Project Chimera—into a weapon. When she refused, when she tried to blow the whistle, her world shrank to the size of this suffocating, rain-choked alley.
The rhythmic tramp of heavy boots echoed from the street she had just fled. They were coming. Not soldiers, not anymore. They were her project's failures, the "Tainted." Men whose genes had been violently rewritten, turning them into puppets of flesh and rage, their bodies twisted with unnatural strength and their minds erased.
She ducked behind a overflowing dumpster, pressing herself into the grimy brickwork, her heart hammering against her ribs. The footsteps grew closer. Two figures appeared at the alley's entrance, their silhouettes distorted by bulky tactical gear. They moved with a jerky, unnatural gait, their heads swiveling in unison.
Suddenly, a whimper cut through the night.
Sophia's blood ran cold. She wasn't alone. Deeper in the alley, huddled in a recessed doorway, were a woman and a small child. They were trapped. The Tainted soldiers stopped, their helmeted heads turning towards the sound like predators sensing wounded prey. They began to advance, ignoring Sophia's hiding place entirely.
"No," Sophia whispered, a knot of ice forming in her stomach. "Leave them alone."
One of the soldiers raised its rifle, the weapon's butt moving to strike the woman who was shielding her daughter. Sophia could not watch. A career spent honoring life, a lifetime of believing in the Hippocratic oath, rebelled against her fear. She burst from behind the dumpster.
"STOP!"
She threw herself in front of the mother and child, her arms spread wide—a ridiculous, futile gesture. The soldier swung, and the hard metal stock of the rifle caught her on the arm. The pain was sharp, a fire that lanced up to her shoulder. But as she stumbled back against the woman, something else erupted from within her.
A warm, golden light bloomed from her hands, pouring into the woman she was touching. The mother gasped, not in pain, but in shock. A long, bleeding gash on her forehead, sustained when she had fallen, knitted itself closed before their eyes, leaving only smooth, unblemished skin.
The power that surged through Sophia was not violent; it was a gentle, overwhelming tide of pure life. It felt like every cell in her body was singing in harmony.
The Tainted soldiers froze, their advance halted. They seemed confused, their programming unable to process this strange, passive energy. One of them tilted its head, a motion that was disturbingly human.
And in that moment of stillness, Sophia saw it.
Hanging from a chain around the soldier's neck, partially tucked into its body armor, was a small silver locket. A locket engraved with a single edelweiss flower.
The world fell away. She had bought that locket for her younger sister, Anna, on her sixteenth birthday. Anna, who had volunteered for the project, believing it would cure the genetic condition that had shadowed her entire life. They had told Sophia she had died in an accident. They had lied.
The creature wearing her sister's face took a stumbling step back, its head twitching violently as if fighting a war within itself.
The moment of recognition shattered. The other soldier recovered, raising its rifle again. Seizing the opportunity, Sophia grabbed the mother and her child. "This way! Go!" she screamed, shoving them toward a rusted side gate she hadn't seen before.
They scrambled through, and Sophia followed, slamming the gate shut just as the Tainted renewed their charge. She didn't look back. She just ran, the cold Berlin rain on her face mingling with hot, silent tears. The miraculous gift flowing through her veins was now and forever tainted by a monstrous, soul-crushing guilt. She hadn't just been running for her life; she had been running from her own sister