The Path of Rust

The Path of Rust

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Ongoing9m

Last published Sun, Nov 22, 2020

adoption fatherfigure hero multiverse originalcharacter

It wasn't his preferred way to go, but perhaps bleeding out on a rooftop was better than rotting in jail. 'Rustwing', as the media called him, could feel his incoming death: the void and empty feeling his mother had described to him when she was on her deathbed which he now felt as an ache in his soul accompanied by his empathy slowly slipping away like melting ice in an open hand, a pairing like peanut butter and jelly. "-your empire has fallen, Rustwing-" "Ciel" "-and now it's time to pay- I... what?" "My name's Ciel. Be a dear little golden-heart and bury me next to the river, yeah?" This would be the day Rustwing, Ciel, died on a rooftop. This was the day Ciel's story began.

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Six teenagers. Genetically engineered. Organically weaponized. Publicly declared heroes, and privately ticking time bombs. The walking-talking equivalent of a biohazard weapon. The kind that reeks of sweat and streetlights and the unindominatable human spirit. The kind they wished they knew how to break. You see, they weren't born. Because life isn't as easy as crawling out of a womb anymore, with blood and serum and the warm exhale of a mother's love. No, it was far 'easier' than that. They were built - piece by piece, chemical after chemical, atom to atom - where scientists preferred fighting on which new type of atomic ray to experiment with next rather than the freaking Geneva Convention. Because, inside Helix Labs, lay the wasteland of glass and live wires and the unmistakable smell of a brand new, bioweapon. Was that a newborn cursed with a modified brain, heart, or muscle? Or did they prefer kidney, lungs or bone? No. Why? Because they weren't born...they were crafted, congealed, and set on a path of righteous fury. They were never given a choice, only the cold looming shadow of a power far greater than them when they decided to condemn the evolutionary design and man handled into existence their own path of 'heroism'. Now, these walking anomalies patrol the glass and grime skyline of Haem city, a place where chrome and corruption reek havoc side by side. Where sin and silicon are separated by a gap of letters and not materialistic gain. The mutagens call themselves saviours, the Authority calls them property and the villains refer to them as misguided. They were made to serve humanity, when they were never humans themselves. Welcome to the future, it's much colder than you think.

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