The first confirmed case of human mutation appeared quietly.
No headlines. No official announcement. Just a hospital feed Kane accessed through his network.
A man, mid-thirties, admitted for severe agitation, was restrained by staff. His vital signs were abnormal—heart rate spiking, muscles tensing far beyond normal. Staff panicked briefly when his strength tore through the restraints.
The AI flagged him instantly.
"Subject exhibiting extreme viral adaptation," it reported.
"Probability of full empowerment: sixty-eight percent."
Kane leaned back, fingers steepled. He had seen this before. He knew the pattern. The virus didn't simply kill or reanimate. It transformed. It chose its victims. Some would become weak zombies. Others would become something more.
Aboveground, the city remained unaware. Parents walked children to school. Trains ran on schedule. The world behaved normally, blind to the shifting rules beneath its feet.
Kane didn't intervene. He didn't need to. The AI's simulations ran ahead of time, calculating every variable. Any interference risked drawing attention, and attention was dangerous.
"Prepare containment protocols in simulation only," he ordered.
"Yes," the AI replied. "All parameters remain non-interventional until activation threshold reached."
Belowground, the base hummed with activity. Construction droids continued to expand storage, reinforce tunnels, and produce additional combat androids. Humanoid caretakers maintained constant vigilance over the child, whose breathing was steady, unaware of the chaos slowly approaching her.
Kane's eyes scanned the city grid. He observed the first mutating animals in real-time. In a small city park, deer with elongated limbs stalked the paths, their movements erratic yet unnervingly calculated. Rats gathered in unusually large clusters, showing signs of organized behavior, aggression heightened. Feral dogs hunted in packs, ignoring humans entirely.
"All non-human mutations now actively developing," the AI reported.
"Potential risk to public order within seventy-two hours if unchecked."
Kane remained calm.
"Unchecked," he repeated. "But we are watching."
The hospital footage returned to normal once the man collapsed into unconsciousness, sedated and restrained again. Administrators dismissed it as a neurological anomaly. Families were reassured. Media channels were given pre-written statements. Panic never reached the surface.
Humans were still in denial.
Kane moved to the next observation. Traffic cameras showed subtle disruptions—vehicles swerving suddenly, collisions avoided at the last moment, pedestrians reacting too slowly. Minor incidents. Easily explained. But the AI tracked every anomaly, mapping a network of potential danger zones.
"Predictive containment routes updated," the AI said.
"Grid control remains passive. Activation can be immediate if required."
Kane nodded silently.
He remembered how quickly denial could collapse. A single incident, amplified by rumor or viral behavior, and the entire system would unravel. But not yet. Not today.
He turned toward the child's chamber. The baby slept under the careful watch of two humanoid caretakers. Sensors scanned for vibrations, temperature fluctuations, airborne pathogens—everything the AI considered a threat. Kane observed the system logs quietly. He didn't need to intervene. The AI already anticipated risks he hadn't considered.
"Caretaker efficiency?" Kane asked.
"Optimal," the AI replied. "Subroutines for threat prioritization adjusted. Infant protection probability: one hundred percent."
He exhaled slowly. That was all he allowed himself. No words. No emotion. Just calculation.
A feed from the zoo appeared next. The AI had automatically routed it through hidden servers. Tigers and lions, distorted and growing stronger, paced behind reinforced glass. Monkeys twisted in impossible ways, claws longer, eyes sharper. Birds circled endlessly, following unseen patterns. Every animal behaved as if it already knew the rules had changed.
"The virus is teaching them," Kane murmured.
"Yes," the AI said. "They are adapting faster than humans. Risk of public exposure increasing."
He didn't respond. Observation was enough.
A report of a collapsed bridge arrived. Vehicles were halted. No casualties yet, only structural damage. Officials blamed engineering flaws, delayed inspections, and weather conditions. The public never questioned it. They still assumed tomorrow would be safe.
Kane's gaze drifted back to the holographic map. Red zones of viral activity were beginning to flicker faintly. Yellow indicators of human mutation were now appearing alongside them. The city had not yet grasped the danger it faced. They had no idea the ground beneath them already belonged to someone else entirely.
"Expand combat unit deployment within containment corridors," Kane ordered.
"Yes," the AI replied. "Units allocated. Readiness: ninety-eight percent."
The base was ready. The machines were ready. Kane Mercer was ready.
And above, the city continued to live in blissful ignorance, unaware that the rules had already begun to change. The first empowered humans moved among them. Mutated animals hunted quietly in parks and alleys. Civilization was beginning to wobble, and no one yet understood why.
Kane turned back toward the observation deck, eyes cold.
"They still think they can survive," he said.
"They have no idea who is really in control."