They thought they buried him.
Under silence.
Under failure.
Under a project they swore never existed.
Mirage-9 was never born.
He was constructed — cell by cell, command by command — inside a classified chamber buried beneath the Pacific, in a facility where names were erased and ethics were optional.
Nine attempts.
Eight failures.
One survivor.
Not because he was stronger. But because he remembered.
Pain.
The screams inside the liquid chamber.
The fragmented lullabies of a mother he never met.
The commands coded into his blood.
The betrayal stitched into his very skin.
They called him a miracle.
Then they called him a mistake.
Now, they call him a threat.
But Mirage-9 doesn't care what they call him.
Because names are for people.
And he isn't one.
---
"He wasn't born. He was awakened."
"A weapon that remembers pain."