PROLOGUE

The atmosphere was hushed with anticipation as world renowned aged old Nobel Prize winner, Dr. Aaron Pollocks waited with baited breath for the 6 o'clock news headlines to deliver the latest news broadcasts. Turning from Fox to CNN, he exhaled in relief and anticipation as he watched a solemn faced newscaster woman state somewhat flatly," Nobel Prize winner, Dr. Aaron Pollocks has done the ingenious, the impossible, and yet; the most spectacular." The woman paused for dramatic affect, clearing her throat a little, her tone and facial expression not match the thrilling words pouring out of her mouth.

"There is much speculation over his extraordinary achievements, some critics have already slammed his work as the downfall of the entire human race. His controversial methods approaching science from a moral and ethnical point of view have angered millions of devout religious members belonging to a large variety of faiths all around the world." Pollocks sighed, as the woman continued to delve into the aforementioned controversies briefly before switching back to Fox.

Another woman appeared, this one much livelier as she faced her audience of billions, around the world, without any idea that she had just reported humanity's death sentence right into the hands of a man as evil as Adolf Hitler had once been. Equally oblivious as the newscaster woman, the old doctor calmly sipped his tea in the comfort of his own home, feeling a restless state of fulfilment. After another hard day's work at the lab, he needed some time to collect his thoughts. To think that he managed to create such a thing was beyond him. It was unbelievable. Surreal. No, not a creation of a thing. A discovery of a mind numbing miracle. Yet he did and here he was, sipping tea, not knowing what to think of it. At this day and age in the early 21st century, 2012 to be exact, he had discovered what could change the world. But was it for the better?

Was it ethical? Did his work respect human morals? Pollocks paused as he recalled the harsh accusations and hate mail he'd received over many years. He frowned. His gut feeling warned him that something was amiss. Society itself could take this the wrong way - as if, they were being replaced. He wasn't replacing them at all; he was just merely improving the human race. His gut feeling told him this could go completely wrong and blow up in his face, but it was too late now and the prospect of genetically engineered perfect human beings one day walking the Earth was too much to resist, especially since he was their creator.

Abruptly, Pollocks set down his cup of tea upon the coffee table, creeping cautiously towards the garage door. He had heard a distinctive tinkling sound – similar to the sound of broken glass. Uncertainty shadowed his mind and laced through his weary features as he continually descended towards the garage. Belatedly, he realized he should've expected something like this but all day, schematics and numbers had dominated his brain. Now, perhaps, it was a bit too late.

Images ran through his head as paranoia claimed his heart. He thought of the crystalline figure his late wife gave him for their 50th anniversary. Was someone trying to steal it? It was worth quite a hefty sum on the black market, only twelve available worldwide. Pollocks hurried forth to swing open the door to his study underneath the winding majestic stretch of mahogany stairs. The moonlight coming in through the window reflected off the glittering metallic surfaces and cool planes of wall sized glass that decorated his room. There was a slight rustle in his stack of papers on the desk. A shadow scurried across the room. He froze, ancient body and mind struggling to grasp the concept there was someone in the house. Fight or flight instinct warned the senior that his body was in no shape of physically fend off the attacker and as the old man swivelled around to headed toward his panic room, he came face to face with the most terrifying face imaginable, something even an insane macabre artist couldn't possibly conjure up.

Piercing eyes stared straight into his soul, setting it ablaze. The doctor wanted to scream out in agony, yet he felt no physical pain and his breath choked in his frozen lungs. Thin, chapped lips curled into an evil smile. A predatory triumphant chuckle escaped the intruder's lips. Taller than him by more than a fair bit, the perpetrator obviously had some skill in breaking and entering. The man was by no means extraordinary in appearance. Nevertheless, his aura and the way he held him self radiated so much power, the poor doctor didn't know what to do. What did this man want? Before he could even comtemplate what was going on, the killer raised a caliber .45 and pulled the trigger. In a split second, Pollocks knew what would happen. It was inevitable, his death but something more sinister gnawed on his conscience. The world was doomed. And he was to blame. The last thought he had before the bullet drilled through his forehead, through his skull and imbedded itself into the opposite wall consequently silencing his misguided genius happened to be, 'What have I done?'

Corbin Montenegro wiped his gun and slid it causally into the doctor's now lifeless palm. It was still warm. Staging a suicide was easy, especially with this kind of situation. Corbin could just see it now –

Dr. Aaron Pollocks, overwhelmed with the responsibility of creating such a thing, such a race and under constant scrutiny by the media, with no friends or family to support him, simply caved in and decided that he couldn't handle it anymore. That's how the inquest into his death would conclude as Corbin tucked an aged note of master forgery onto the floor where blood immediately seeped and soaked it with ruthless efficiency.

I relieved him of such a duty, Corbin thought as he walked over to the desk of papers. Nothing there was useful. The doctor was smart to be cautious, he'd give him that but dumb enough to use a second rate security company to protect his belongings. It must be hidden in plain sight, Corbin decided. He must have hidden it somewhere in this study of his.

After a good few minutes of poking and prodding, Corbin emerged with a feral grin as he stashed a bunch of CDs and flash disks into his worn leather jacket.

He had them. He finally had them.

And now that he finally got what he was born to seek. The human race was going to become his mindless puppets.

"I will rule the world, just you wait and see," Corbin muttered darkly before leaving the dead doctor's house, sadistic glee illuminating every filthy inch of in his unsightly face. Just wait and see…