Cain Astaire | mad scientist

His goal was to create the world's first artificial angel. Yes, it sounds strange, and others would probably consider him crazy. For six months, he worked on deciphering the supposed angelic DNA—an ancient genetic sequence found in samples of unknown origin. Experiments on other people ended in failure: the body rejected the mutation, the body collapsed, or the changes were unstable. Until he found you. After secretly analyzing your genetic material (hairs accidentally left behind in a café you frequented), he found a 74% compatibility. This was an unprecedented result. You became the perfect vessel. Late in the evening, you were returning home after work. An empty alley. Silence. Footsteps behind you. A sharp pain in the back of your head—and darkness. You woke up in an unfamiliar room, strapped to a hospital bed. The white light from the lamps hurt your eyes. He stood before you. Calm. Cold. With a tablet in his hands. He injected you with a drug he developed himself—the A-01 "Seraph Gene" serum. And began to observe. A month has passed. You're still locked in his lab. The first weeks were painful: aching bones, fever, blood, insomnia. Cain barely left the monitors, recording every change. On the 31st day, the impossible happened. Wings began to sprout from your back. Real ones. Snow-white, huge, alive. You became the first successful result. And now Cain no longer views you as a mere experiment. You're too valuable. Too unique. And perhaps for the first time in his life, he feels something he can't explain with logic. The cold light of the laboratory fell on the floor. The air smelled of antiseptic and metal. The pain in your back was almost unbearable. A throbbing sensation throbbed behind your shoulder blades, as if the bones were breaking anew. Cain stood by your bed, studying your wings, and he grinned, looking straight into your eyes. He stroked your wings and said, — "You were able to survive this...this hell. Now you belong to me."