Years ago, something streaked through the sky — not a meteor, but something more precise, more controlled. It crashed into the mountains near the northern edge of what would later become known as Zone 17. Military teams were the first to arrive, but by the time they secured the area, most of the true technology had already been extracted by another force. A private organization. A shadowed entity simply known as X.

What fell from the sky wasn’t just wreckage. It was a suit. No — a living armor, a remnant of an extinct alien war machine designed to bond to a host. The metal breathed, adjusted to energy signatures, and reformed around neural intent. And it needed a human — a compatible one.

But no human was enough.

That’s when X began the Project. They didn’t need to find a perfect soldier — they could grow one. With stolen genes and biogenetic templates, X cloned a seemingly random individual. They grew him in secret, monitored his development, trained his body without letting him know what he truly was. They gave him a name: Jason-Mark.

To the world, Jason was just a brilliant kid. Raised by a kind single mother who worked as a lab scientist, he lived a normal life in a quiet suburb of the capital. He was smart — top of his class in biochemistry. Strong — even from a young age, he was faster and more coordinated than most boys his age. Jason was a natural in martial arts, track, and even competitive swimming.

But there was always something off. Something slightly too perfect.

His red hair and emerald green eyes made him stand out, and though kids sometimes teased him for looking like a “glitched anime character,” he was well-liked. Popular, even. The type of student teachers loved and classmates respected. Girls noticed him, guys wanted to be him, but Jason himself never seemed to know why.

He had a cousin, Bendo Averes — loud, loyal, and always unapologetically real. Bendo was a natural contrast to Jason, but the two were close. Bendo’s girlfriend, Amy, had a sharp tongue and sharp style. She was hard to miss — long black hair, one glowing strand of purple, and intense violet eyes that could cut someone down without a word. The three of them were inseparable. College life was a blur of lectures, sparring practice, energy drinks, and banter.

Jason had no idea his entire life was carefully orchestrated. Every exam, every health check, every "random" coach or tutor had been part of X’s plan.

Until that day.

It was a Friday. Jason had just wrapped up a long day of labs and a brutal sparring session with Bendo. He rode his electric board home as the sun dipped below the city skyline. His phone buzzed — a reminder for a biochem assignment. Typical.

He stepped through the front door of his house, calling out, “Mom? You home?”

No answer.

Then he saw him.

A man sat on the living room couch like he owned the place. Tall. Built like a tank wrapped in a business suit. Clean-shaven, gray hair, dark gloves. Cold eyes like polished steel. There was something wrong about him, like he absorbed all the light in the room.

Jason narrowed his eyes. “Who are you?”

The man stood up. “Jason-Mark.”

Jason took a step back. “You know my name? I think you’ve got the wrong house.”

“No. I don’t.”

Jason felt something — not fear, but instinct. A warning ringing in his muscles. He lunged. Fist aimed for the man’s jaw.

But the man didn’t dodge. He caught Jason’s wrist mid-air like he was a child. With a single twist, Jason screamed — his arm snapped like dry wood.

Then his leg followed. A crack, then another. Jason collapsed in a heap, gasping through clenched teeth.

“You are not ready,” the man said simply.

Jason’s vision blurred, pain screaming through his bones. His ears rang, and the man’s voice sounded distant, distorted. He heard the front door close behind him as the man walked out, leaving him broken on the floor.

Alone.

As the lights in the house flickered from the impact, Jason lost consciousness.

But something in his body — something deep, dormant, and alien — had already started to wake up.