Cold concrete pressed against Shannon's forehead, but he barely felt the chill. Spasms racked his spine, threatening to snap his vertebrae like dry twigs. Blood roared in his ears, a deafening tide of static that drowned out the hum of his subterranean Detroit workshop. Crimson stained his memories. "Breathe, Shannon," he whispered, his voice a ragged scrape against his teeth. Sweat slicked his palms as he gripped the edge of his steel workbench. Metal groaned under the sudden, involuntary pressure of his fingers. He was leaving deep, warped indentations in the three-inch-thick solid steel. Two hundred and ten beats per minute. Images flashed behind his eyelids, unbidden and violent. Screams from the Detroit Pier echoed through his skull, mixing with the smell of salt water and burning flesh. Splintered wood, shattered bone, and the copper stench of spilled blood filled his senses. He could still feel the phantom sensation of ripping a massive steel crane from its foundation and hurling it into a crowd of screaming men. "Not again," he gasped, his knees buckling. Cracks spread across the reinforced concrete floor beneath his heavy boots. He was losing grip on his own biology. Power, raw and monstrous, surged through his capillaries like liquid fire. The unstable Ultimate Soldier formula inside his blood was waking up, triggered by the panic attack. Desperation clawed at his chest. If he didn't contain this surge immediately, he would tear this entire bunker down, burying himself and his secrets under tons of rubble. Dragging his heavy limbs, he staggered toward the center of the dark room. Looming in the dim light stood his only salvation. Platinum-plated hydraulics gleamed, a rigid skeleton waiting to bind him. The Eagle chassis hung from heavy ceiling chains, its chest plates parted like the ribcage of a mechanical beast. Steps hissed open as the Eagle's proximity sensors recognized his stumbling form. Falling forward, he let the metallic embrace take him. Clamps snapped shut around his biceps and thighs with bone-crushing force. Pneumatic cylinders hissed, compressing his hyper-expanded muscles with thousands of pounds of counter-pressure. Pressure, intense and stabilizing, forced the runaway blood back into his core. The suit's heavy plating acted as an external skeleton, absorbing the violent tremors of his god-like strength. Slowing down, his frantic pulse began to find a steady, forced rhythm. He leaned his head back against the padded helmet recess, closing his eyes as the cold metal sucked the feverish heat from his skin. "Biological stabilization achieved," a cheerful voice chimed from the overhead speakers. Gravity Bot hovered into view, its spherical chrome body bobbing effortlessly in the air. "You almost broke the floor this time, Creator!" the AI chirped, its digital optic cycling a bright, unbothered blue. "My sensors detected a ninety-eight percent chance of structural collapse if you had taken three more steps." Shannon gritted his teeth, his jaw aching from the tension. Cold titanium plates pressed against his temples, injecting a mild sedative to calm his frayed nerves. Every muscle in his body felt like it had been shredded and rewoven with copper wire. He breathed in the scent of ozone and hydraulic fluid, using the familiar smells to anchor himself to the present. His mind was still trapped in the horror of five years ago. Guilt was a physical weight, heavier than the armored suit he wore. Five years since the military elite forced that green poison down his throat. Five years since he became a weapon of mass destruction, leaving a trail of broken bodies on the Detroit docks. They had wanted a god. They got a monster. When the military realized they couldn't control him, they tried to put him down. He had fled into the shadows, building this underground sanctuary to hide from the world—and from himself. Now, he was prisoner to his own power, locked inside a suit designed to keep him from destroying everything he touched. --- Quietly, the circular workshop lights flickered, casting long shadows across the grease-stained walls. Gravity Bot drifted closer, its internal gravity-manipulating drive humming a soft, rhythmic tune. It possessed no concept of fear, no empathy for the man who had nearly torn his own heart out moments prior. "Look at this, Shannon," Gravity Bot said, its voice bubbling with inappropriate excitement. "I intercepted an active military broadcast nearby. It is very energetic!" Flashing lights reflected off the AI's polished chrome shell as it projected a high-definition holographic screen into the air. A holographic window expanded, showing a live security feed from an alleyway just three miles north, near the old shipping yards. Rain-slicked asphalt gleamed under flickering streetlamps on the screen. Black-armored tactical vehicles blockaded both ends of the narrow alley. Apex Initiative insignia—a stylized silver crown over a wolf's skull—shone on the doors of the transports. They were moving with lethal, practiced precision. A young woman was being dragged out of a battered sedan, her hands zip-tied behind her back. She thrashed against her captors, her face pale with terror, her mouth moving in silent, desperate pleas for help. "Why are they taking her?" Shannon asked, his voice low and dangerous inside the helmet's vocal synthesizer. "They are collecting biological specimens for the new trial," Gravity Bot replied cheerfully. "My database indicates her genetic markers match the required threshold for the synthetic strain. They are trying to rebuild your formula, Shannon!" Shannon's teeth ground together. The Apex Initiative, General Vance's pet project, was still hunting for his bloodline, still trying to replicate the nightmare that had ruined his life. Inside his chest, the sleeping giant stirred again, a dangerous heat rising in his throat. Activate the thrusters, his instincts screamed. Go out there and rip them to pieces. Before he could move, his hand shook within the armored glove. The memory of the innocent people at the pier flashed before him. If he lost control out there, he would kill the very woman he was trying to save. Suddenly, the camera angle on the security feed shifted. On the security screen, the lead operative turns directly toward Shannon’s hidden camera, holding up a glowing syringe of the unstable green Ultimate Soldier formula and flashing a predatory grin.

Chapter 1: Unbreakable Cage of Platinum