Chapter 3 Genesis

Peter bolted for the door, shoving past his stunned classmates. As he burst into the hallway, the fire alarm began to blare, adding to the cacophony of screams and sobs.

Peter sprinted through the corridors, his feet slipping on the polished floors. Students poured out of classrooms, their faces contorting in fear as they saw him approaching. Blood-covered and wild-eyed, he must have looked like something out of a nightmare.

"He killed Troy!" someone shouted. "He is a murderer!"

The words echoed in his ears, each repetition driving home the reality of what he'd done. He wasn't just Peter anymore. He was a killer.

As he neared the main entrance, he saw a group of teachers trying to organize the panicking students. Among them was Mrs. Hendricks, his guidance counselor. Her eyes met his, and he saw the moment recognition dawned on her face.

"Peter?" she called out, her voice a mix of concern and fear. "Peter, wait!"

But he couldn't stop. He couldn't face her kindness, her attempts to understand. There was no understanding this.

He burst through the doors and into the parking lot, the bright sunlight momentarily blinding him. But his body didn't slow down. If anything, he felt himself moving faster, his legs carrying him forward with terrifying speed.

The world around him began to blur, buildings and trees becoming indistinct smears of color. Wind roared in his ears as he pushed his body to impossible speeds, leaving Millbrook High – and the scene of his crime – far behind.

But he couldn't outrun the truth. He was a murderer now.

And there was no going back.

Peter ran until his lungs burned and his legs trembled, though whether from exertion or shock, he couldn't tell. When he finally slowed, he found himself on the outskirts of town, near the old factory where it had all begun.

The factory loomed before him, its rusted gates hanging open like a gaping maw.

Peter stumbled through the gates, drawn by some unseen force towards the heart of the complex. His mind raced, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. How had he gone from a bullied high school senior to... this? A killer with impossible strength and speed?

As he entered the main building, memories of that fateful night a week ago came flooding back. The dare from his classmates to spend the night in the "haunted" factory. The strange glowing vat he'd discovered in a hidden lab.

He made his way to that same lab now, his footsteps echoing in the cavernous space. The vat was still there, though now empty and dark. But the banks of computers that lined the walls with no life, their screens dusty and some with cracked screens.

Peter collapsed to his knees in front of the largest monitor, his blood-stained hands leaving crimson smears on the dusty floor. "What's happening to me?" he whispered, his voice cracking.

He started looking for signs and found one particular name the computers, and the equipment around the room, they seemed to be engraved with a name but it was faded, he looked closer to see with clarity.

GENESIS

"Genesis?" Peter read aloud, his brow furrowing in confusion.

Suddenly, a mechanical voice filled his head, emanating from hidden speakers. "Genetic Enhancement Neuro-Integration System Initialized. Stabilizing host. Commencing final integration."

After what felt like an eternity, the pain began to subside. Peter lay on the cold floor, gasping for breath, his body humming with newfound power. The mechanical voice spoke again:

"Integration complete. Host fully stabilized. Welcome to the Genesis Program, Subject Zero."

Peter tried to push himself to his feet, but his body was trembling uncontrollably. His mind reeled, a flood of information assaulting him—data, schematics, systems, all connected to the nanobots inside him. It was too much, too fast. He retched violently, vomiting onto the floor as the knowledge overwhelmed him. The monitors above flickered to life, displaying images and lines of code he couldn't make sense of.

"So... this is what happened," Peter muttered, wiping the bile from his mouth, his mind struggling to grasp the enormity of it all. "I'm... I'm not human anymore. Not entirely."

He could feel the nanobots inside him, buzzing just below the surface of his skin. They had been absorbing energy this whole time, lying dormant, waiting for the right moment. Now, they were active, coursing through his veins, rewiring his body in ways he couldn't comprehend.

Peter stood slowly, feeling the strange strength returning to his limbs. His reflection in the cracked monitor caught his eye—his face, pale and bloodied, stared back at him. As he gazed at his reflection, a realization struck him.

"I need to disappear. I need a new identity," Peter muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

With this thought, he felt a tingling sensation across his face. The nanobots, now fully active and integrated with his system, seemed to respond to his desire. Peter watched in fascination as his features began to shift and morph.

He concentrated, focusing his will on changing his appearance. His once messy hair receded slightly and grayed at the temples. The skin on his face tightened in some areas and sagged in others, deepening into wrinkles. His jaw line subtly reshaped itself, becoming more angular. Even his eye color shifted, the irises lightening from brown to a pale, piercing blue.

Within minutes, Peter had aged himself by about twenty years. He ran a hand over his new face, marveling at the control he now possessed. The skin felt different under his touch—rougher, weathered by years he hadn't lived.

"This... this could work," he said, his voice sounding slightly rougher, matching his aged appearance. A mix of awe and horror washed over him as he realized the full extent of his new abilities.

He could already feel the weight of what was coming. The authorities—police, FBI, maybe even the CIA—would be swarming Millbrook. They'd find the crime scene. They'd try to trace him. But now, with his drastically altered appearance, he had a chance to evade capture.

Outside the factory, Peter could hear the distant wail of sirens, growing louder, closing in. His time was running out. The sound sent a jolt of panic through him, reminding him of the harsh reality of his situation.

Peter Johnson was gone, both figuratively and now literally. He had no choice now. He had become someone else. Something else.

With a deep breath, Peter turned to the door. The cool air from outside seeped in, carrying with it the scent of pine and distant rain. It smelled like freedom, like possibility—and like loneliness.

"Whoever I am now," he whispered to the empty room, "I can't go back. I won't let them turn me into a lab rat."

The world would soon know what he had done, but they would never recognize who he had become. The thought was both terrifying and exhilarating. He was a blank slate now, capable of becoming anyone or anything.

And for now, that was all that mattered. Peter—or whoever he was now—stepped out of the abandoned factory and into his new life, leaving behind the last traces of his old self in that dusty, forgotten lab.

As he walked away, the sirens grew louder, but Peter didn't look back. He couldn't. His future, uncertain and dangerous as it was, lay ahead. And with each step, he felt the nanobots humming within him, a constant reminder of the power—and the curse—he now carried.

The sun was setting as Peter reached the edge of the woods, casting long shadows across the landscape. He paused for a moment, taking one last look at the town that had been his home.