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Dr. William Stryker stood in the dim light of the chamber, his gaze fixed on the massive pod in the center of the room. Inside, submerged in a glowing, viscous liquid, was a child—a boy, no more than eight months old. He floated in the fluid, his small body surrounded by a web of wires and tubes that monitored every vital sign, every flicker of growth. To Stryker, this child wasn't a person. He was an experiment, a weapon in the making.
A sense of triumph swelled within him as he observed the scene. They had spent years perfecting their methods, combining the serum used on the Winter Soldier with the power of the Scepter, the mysterious weapon with the glowing blue gem at its core. The Scepter had been a gift beyond their wildest dreams, capable of unlocking abilities in people that no one had ever thought possible. Wanda and Pietro Maximoff were prime examples of this. But this child—Subject Omega—was the next evolution, the culmination of all Stryker's work.
The boy had developed faster than they could have imagined. Rapid aging, accelerated by the Scepter's influence, had pushed the child to near full term within a span of a couple of hours.
But Stryker knew they were on the verge of something even greater. The power that coursed through Omega's veins, the unknown potential waiting to be unleashed, was something HYDRA had barely begun to comprehend.
Stryker's gaze shifted from the pod to the pedestal where the Scepter rested, its blue gem glowing faintly in the low light. That weapon had given HYDRA so much power. It had transformed people, bent their wills, and unlocked abilities far beyond human comprehension. But what it had done to Omega... that was still a mystery.
Turning to Dr. Volkov, the project's lead scientist, Stryker's eyes gleamed with curiosity. "Has anything new happened?" he asked, his voice low and expectant. "Anything beyond the rapid aging?"
Volkov, a gaunt man whose features had grown sharper with the stress of this project, shook his head. "No, sir. Nothing significant beyond the energy spikes we've recorded. His body has adapted well to the Scepter's influence, but we've yet to see any other noticeable changes."
Stryker frowned. "And the spikes? Are they becoming more frequent?"
Volkov nodded, checking his tablet for the most recent data. "Yes, they are occurring every twelve hours now, always coinciding with heightened brain activity. The Scepter's energy seems to be accelerating neurological development as well. The boy's brain is far more advanced than his physical age would suggest. However, we still haven't been able to determine the full extent of the Scepter's influence."
Stryker's eyes narrowed as he studied the boy in the pod. "How much longer until we bring him out?"
"He's nearly fully developed," Volkov replied, his voice hesitant. "Another week at most. but—""
"But nothing, Volkov," Stryker snapped. "Leave him in the pod for now. Let him reach his full potential. I want him as strong as possible before we extract him." He paused, his voice growing colder. "But start the tests now. Draw blood, tissue samples. I want to know if the Winter Soldier's serum is present in his DNA and how potent it is. We need to know exactly what we're dealing with."
Volkov hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Yes, sir," he said, motioning to the team of scientists who were already gathered around the control panel. They moved quickly, preparing syringes and diagnostic tools as they approached the pod. The sound of hissing pressure filled the room as the pod's casing began to open, revealing the child more clearly.
Stryker watched as the scientists moved to work, their movements precise and mechanical. Blood was drawn, scans were taken, and the boy remained unconscious, floating in the liquid as if unaware of the world around him. He was perfect—the ultimate weapon in the making.
Stryker turned back to the Scepter, his mind racing with possibilities. What would this boy become? What kind of power had they unlocked? The Maximoffs were powerful, yes, but this child—Omega—could be something else entirely. A weapon to rival even the Avengers. A force that could be molded, controlled, and unleashed upon the world.
A soft chime from the control panel drew Stryker's attention. Volkov approached with a vial of blood that had just been drawn from Omega, holding it up to the light. The liquid inside shimmered faintly, almost unnaturally, as if some foreign energy pulsed within it.
"It's... unusual," Volkov murmured, studying the sample closely. "His blood shows traces of the Winter Soldier's serum, but it's different. The Scepter's energy has altered it somehow. We'll need to run more tests to fully understand."
Stryker smiled coldly. "Good. Run those tests. I want a full report on my desk within forty-eight hours."
Volkov nodded quickly, retreating to the laboratory with the vial in hand. Stryker remained, his gaze fixed on the boy floating in the pod. Soon, he thought. Soon, Omega would be ready.
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Dr. William Stryker sat in his dimly lit office, the low hum of the facility's power systems buzzing faintly in the background. He leaned forward in his steel chair, the sterile scent of antiseptic heavy in the air. His fingers traced the edges of the report from Dr. Volkov, just handed over from the lab after running the series of tests Stryker had ordered.
In front of him, on the table, a holographic display flickered on and off, revealing the image of Subject Omega—an 8-month-old infant still floating in the pod. His tiny form submerged in the viscous, nutrient-filled liquid designed to sustain his unnatural growth. The child's eyes were closed, peaceful in a way that belied the monstrous potential growing inside him.
Stryker's steel-gray eyes narrowed as he flipped open Volkov's report. He always insisted on reviewing these personally—no assistants, no middlemen. Omega was too important for any chance of error. The culmination of years of work, a fusion of HYDRA's most dangerous research and the otherworldly power of Loki's Scepter. The boy wasn't just another super-soldier project. He was the ultimate weapon, the key to controlling the future.
Stryker knew it.
The first lines of the report were as clinical as ever, detailing Omega's basic health metrics: heart rate, oxygen saturation, and nutrient absorption levels. All stable. The pod had done its job—keeping the child growing rapidly.
Stryker's fingers moved to the next section, his interest piquing as he reached Volkov's analysis of the child's biological composition. The serum. The most critical aspect. He needed to know if it had changed—if the Scepter had fundamentally altered the super-soldier serum they had injected into the boy's bloodstream during early development.
His eyes scanned Volkov's meticulously written notes:
"Subject Omega shows significant alteration in blood composition. Serum is integrated with the subject's DNA at the molecular level. Interaction with energy from the Scepter has enhanced the serum's properties. Physical tests confirm cellular regeneration at an accelerated rate."
Stryker stopped, reading that line again, slowly. Accelerated regeneration.
A slow smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. That was it.
"Cellular regeneration exceeds the baseline human healing factor by 400%. Tissue repair occurs rapidly—most injuries are healed within minutes." Volkov had highlighted a section specifically on regeneration and adaptation, noting that the serum had not just enhanced the child physically but also seemed to be fundamentally improving his cellular structure in ways they hadn't expected.
"Muscle tissue exhibiting enhanced density. Bone structure reinforced. Early signs of advanced cellular regeneration." Stryker's eyes narrowed as he read the line again. The boy was healing at a rate far beyond anything normal. Cuts and abrasions, even minor wounds caused by the testing apparatus, closed within moments. His body was in a constant state of regeneration, but not quite on the scale of the Winter Soldier. This wasn't the miracle of immortality—yet it was far beyond what any typical human could achieve.
What fascinated Stryker the most was the unique interaction between the serum and the Scepter's energy. The serum had evolved. It wasn't simply replicating what had been done to Barnes. The Scepter had fused with the serum's properties, enhancing them, creating a new kind of super-soldier. Not as raw and uncontrollable as Barnes had been—but something more stable. More adaptable.
Stryker turned the page, studying Volkov's blood analysis. "Serum shows high levels of energy absorption, correlating with the Scepter's power signature. Mutations in key proteins have been observed, particularly in regenerative pathways."
The doctor paused, his mind calculating the implications. Energy absorption. Omega's body wasn't just healing faster; it was actively drawing power from the Scepter's residual energy in his cells. The serum had mutated with this energy, bonding at a molecular level, making it part of the boy's very DNA.
Stryker's fingers drummed on his desk as he considered the possibilities. The energy of the Scepter, fused with the serum of the Winter Soldier... What else could it unlock? He wasn't ready to assume immortality or anything so grand—yet. But the signs were promising.
He turned another page, his gaze falling on the section marked Cognitive Development. Here, Volkov's notes grew a little more speculative. The child's brain was developing rapidly, but Omega was still only an infant. At this stage, cognitive assessments were difficult to conduct with any precision. The tests Volkov had managed to run suggested heightened neural activity, but nothing outside the realm of an extremely advanced child.
Stryker frowned slightly. That was the one area where progress was difficult to track. The boy was too young to train, too young to speak or understand his surroundings. But the increased brain activity, combined with the energy fluctuations recorded during testing, hinted at something deeper.
"Brain wave patterns suggest an unusual response to external stimuli," Stryker read aloud, noting the spike in neural activity. "The subject's response to stress or changes in his environment exceeds that of a normal human infant by over 300%. Further testing required."
300%. Stryker tapped the line with his finger, pondering the implications. The energy from the Scepter was clearly affecting more than just the child's physical development. His mind was responding to it as well, but how, and to what extent? That was the question.
He turned the page once more, skimming through the final notes on Omega's general health. Volkov had been cautious, as always, but the conclusion was clear. Subject Omega was stable. His body showed no signs of rejection or adverse effects from the serum or the Scepter's energy. The boy was growing stronger by the day, his body adapting perfectly to the enhancements.
Stryker closed the file, his mind already racing with plans for the next phase. He needed to understand more—especially about the mental changes. If Omega's brain was adapting to the Scepter's power, what would that mean as he grew older? There was still so much untapped potential, so much left to discover.
He stood, walking to the glass wall of his office that overlooked the lab. Through the glass, he could see the pod that housed Omega. The child floated in the translucent fluid, surrounded by machinery, his tiny form connected to countless tubes and wires. He looked peaceful, almost fragile in his current state. But Stryker knew better.
"He's far from fragile." Stryker's lips curled into a cold smile. The boy was a weapon. He just needed to be shaped, controlled, trained. And soon, that would begin. The conditioning process would be crucial. Omega needed to understand his place, his role in HYDRA's plans. Stryker would make sure of that.
As he stared at the child, the door to his office slid open, and Dr. Volkov stepped inside, his expression as clinical as ever. The man was efficient, cold—exactly what Stryker needed in a lead scientist.
"Sir," Volkov began, "I've completed the tests you requested. The serum is stable, as is the subject. No signs of cellular degradation or mutation beyond the expected parameters. I've detailed everything in the report."
Stryker nodded. "I've reviewed it. Good work, Volkov. How long until we can extract him from the pod?"
Volkov glanced at the pod through the glass. "He's nearing full term, sir. Physically, he's almost ready. I'd recommend another month to ensure his systems are fully stabilized, but... we can begin preliminary conditioning soon."
Stryker's eyes flicked to the pod. Soon. He could feel the anticipation building. The years of preparation, of waiting—it was all coming to a head.
"Prepare him," Stryker said, his voice firm. "We'll begin the conditioning process in one month. No delays."
Volkov nodded. "Understood."
As the doctor left, Stryker turned back to the pod. One month. That was all it would take, and then Omega would be ready. Ready to begin his real purpose. To be trained. Molded. Turned into the ultimate weapon HYDRA had always dreamed of.
The world wasn't ready for what was coming. But soon, they would see.
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