ALTERED

Prologue – The Reveal

Nearly three years had passed since the world first learned about the Altered—mortals born with inhuman abilities. Across every social media platform, footage spread of people lifting cars, walking through fire, vanishing into thin air, and surviving injuries no ordinary human could endure. What many dismissed as elaborate hoaxes became undeniable within hours. The world did not adjust. It fractured.

Governments acted swiftly. The Altered were declared unstable, unpredictable, and dangerous to both themselves and others. International Special Services divisions were formed and granted sweeping authority to identify, classify, and detain suspected individuals. In some regions, biometric “Altered Index” systems were introduced to track abnormal physiological signatures.

Curfews emptied neighborhoods after dark for months. Floodlights swept across silent streets. Anonymous hotlines overflowed with accusations as neighbors turned on neighbors. In schools, children were taught to report anyone who seemed different.

In practice, difference became suspicion.

The revelation didn’t just fracture society—it fractured belief itself.

Some religious leaders called the Altered demons, proof of humanity’s decay. Others called them prophets, angels, and gods walking in flesh. Congregations collapsed mid-service and reformed in the same breath. Outside worship halls, arguments turned into riots while livestreams turned into spectacle. Truth no longer traveled faster than rumor—it simply stopped mattering.

As fear hardened into policy, resistance movements struggled to survive. Demonstrations demanding rights for the Altered filled city squares, only to end beneath tear gas, riot shields, and televised arrests that blurred into routine programming.

In the vacuum left behind, the Central Rehabilitation Unit was introduced as salvation.

The governments called it the cornerstone of public safety—a program designed to restore order, rehabilitate the Altered, and protect society.

The Altered knew it by another name.

The place you never came back from.

Among those destined for this hell, posing as paradise, was Thomas Reynolds. He hadn’t asked to be Altered. He hadn’t even known he was one—until the night everything changed, barely a month after the reveal.

That night, his adopted father came home drunk. Again. Angry about something—maybe nothing. It didn’t matter. He tore through the house like a storm, breaking furniture, screaming at his wife, and finally turning on the fifteen-year-old Thomas.

Three years of living in that house had taught Thomas not to run. Not to scream. It only made things worse.

So he stayed where he was—curled on the floor, eyes shut tight, withdrawing inward as he always did—and for a moment, the world failed to register him properly.

If he were quiet enough, still enough, maybe his adoptive father would get bored. Maybe he’d tire out. Maybe he’d stop.

But his silence this time only made the man angrier.

Thomas’s lack of reaction was like fuel. The man grabbed him by the arms and flung him like a rag doll, slamming him into the wall. Fists followed. A knee to the gut. A bottle crashed into his ribs. He struck the places he knew wouldn’t bruise in daylight—the places social workers wouldn’t see.

Thomas didn’t cry, nor did he scream. On the outside, he remained unnaturally contained. Numb. But numb didn’t mean painless.

The beating kept going. Past cruelty. Past punishment. It became something else—something Thomas couldn’t endure. Not again. Not this time.

Something inside him began to shift. Pressure built beneath years of silence until he could no longer tell where the numbness ended and everything else began.

The room changed before he understood why.

The air thickened.

Not metaphorically.

Physically.

It pressed against his skin as if the space itself had become heavier. The sound in the room cut strangely—too sharp, then too distant. A low hum built in his skull, steady and rising, as if the house had begun to resonate with something unseen.

The windows trembled.

Dust lifted off surfaces without wind.

A single thought formed in him—uninvited.

Stop.

His adoptive father flew straight through the living room wall.

The impact didn’t feel like impact. It felt like structure giving up all at once. Wood and plaster collapsed inward as if the wall had decided it no longer needed to exist.

For a fraction of a second, there was no sound at all.

Then silence that didn’t behave correctly.

Too complete.

Dust hung in the air longer than it should have before beginning to fall.

Thomas hadn’t moved.

But something in him had passed through the room like a force that didn’t need permission.

His lungs locked.

Waiting.

His battered adoptive mother screamed. She had seen everything. She didn’t check if her husband was alive; she immediately called Special Services. Terror had already made the decision for her.

They came within the hour.

Black vans arrived, followed by armed agents.

They tackled Thomas like he was some kind of animal—even though he didn’t resist—slamming him to the floor. They clamped two metallic bangles onto his wrists—Nullifiers, smooth and seamless, pulsing with a dull blue light. The moment they touched his skin, something inside him went silent.

He was dragged into the van. The interior smelled like metal and disinfectant, cold enough to cling to the skin.

The ride was silent. No one spoke to him. No one needed to. Thomas sat restrained between two agents, staring at nothing as the outside world moved past the tinted windows.

When the vehicle finally stopped, he was pulled out without ceremony.

They led him through a maze of reinforced corridors before making a temporary stop at a laboratory. There, a nurse stabbed a needle into the back of his neck. No explanation followed. Moments later, they dragged him deeper into the facility—to the wing where the Altered were kept.

He passed rows of glass-and-steel cells. Some prisoners sat motionless. Others paced in restless circles. A few glanced toward him before lowering their eyes again, while others didn’t move at all.

Eventually, he was placed inside one of them.

The door sealed.

And that was the last time he had ever seen the outside world.