The storm tore through the night, an unrelenting force that howled against the glass like a living thing. Lightning split the sky in jagged, merciless streaks, illuminating the world in violent flashes before surrendering to the darkness again. Thunder followed, a bone-deep tremor that rattled the windows and sent a shudder through the earth. Rain lashed the building, an angry drumbeat against the thin barrier separating the chaos outside from the tension within.

Inside the provisional operating room, the air was thick—heavy with the sterile bite of antiseptic and the raw metallic tang of blood. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, cold and unforgiving, casting sharp shadows across the faces of the doctors and nurses. The rhythmic beeping of machines warred with the storm’s rage, their mechanical precision a stark contrast to the frantic energy simmering beneath the surface.

They moved with methodical urgency, hands steady, minds racing. The C-section was underway, every movement precise, almost detached. The mother lay still beneath the harsh glow of the lights, her face pale, her body limp under the haze of anesthesia. Sweat clung to the brows of the doctors, catching in the artificial light. The air crackled—not only with the storm’s static, but with something else. Something unseen, pressing down on the room like an unseen force waiting to unfold. Then, a breathless moment. A single, fleeting pause in the chaos. The first baby of the new millennium entered the world.

For an instant, the world held its breath. The storm seemed to hush, as if bearing witness to the moment. The wail of the newborn shattered the silence, thin and raw, yet powerful enough to rival the thunder outside. Relief rippled through the room, a brief exhale before duty took hold again. A nurse moved forward, ready to clean and swaddle the child. She froze.

Her breath hitched, eyes locked on the child’s forearm. The room constricted, the air pressing inward as every gaze followed hers. There, pulsing against the infant’s delicate skin, was a mark—a digital clock, its numbers ticking downward in eerie precision. The glow of it bathed the child’s skin in an otherworldly blue, casting ghostly light across the sterile room. It wasn’t ink. It wasn’t a trick of the light. It was embedded in the flesh, alive, counting down.

A figure stirred in the corner. Until now, he had been a shadow, a presence unnoticed in the frantic rhythm of the birth. But now, as he stepped forward, the light caught his face—sharp angles, a stillness that unnerved. His eyes, impossibly bright, locked onto the child’s mark with an unsettling focus. The same blue eyes that stared back from the newborn’s fragile face.

“This is... unexpected.” The lead doctor’s voice barely rose above a whisper, the weight of the moment pressing into his chest.

The man moved, swift and soundless, until he stood over the child. He reached down, his fingers brushing the infant’s soft skin, his touch both reverent and possessive. The baby’s cries stilled for a brief second, as if sensing something beyond comprehension.

“What you’ve seen here tonight is not your concern.” The words cut through the charged silence, cold and absolute. “You’ve been paid well for your silence. Remember that.”

The staff exchanged uneasy glances, some shifting their weight, others gripping instruments they wouldn’t dare use. But none spoke. The room had changed; the very air carried something heavier than fear. The man’s presence swallowed every unspoken protest before it could form. A monitor shrieked, shattering the uneasy stillness.

“Doctor, her blood pressure is crashing—she’s hemorrhaging,” a nurse gasped, hands already moving, voice tight with urgency. The fragile line between life and death wavered, tilting dangerously toward the latter.

The man didn’t turn. His silhouette loomed in the doorway, framed by the erratic strobe of lightning. “Do everything you can to save her,” he ordered. “I need her for my research.”
And then he was gone, the storm swallowing him whole.

Chaos erupted behind him, voices sharp with desperation as they fought to keep the mother tethered to this world. The scent of blood thickened, spreading across the floor like spilled ink. Machines blared, commands snapped into the suffocating air, hands moved with frantic precision. Life and death waged war on the operating table.

Down the hall, the man walked with purpose, the child nestled against his chest. The baby’s tiny fingers twitched, their luminous mark still pulsing its ominous countdown. Outside, the storm surged, wind shrieking like some ancient thing awakened. He glanced down at the infant, his expression unreadable.

"You are special," the man whispered, a flicker of a smile ghosting across his lips. "And I will make sure you fulfill your purpose."

The man slipped into the waiting vehicle, the doors sealing shut with a metallic finality. The engine rumbled to life, headlights slicing through sheets of relentless rain as the car pulled away, leaving behind a room drowning in urgency and blood.

Inside the operating room, the battle for life waged on. The mother’s body trembled on the edge, her vital signs swinging wildly between survival and surrender. Blood slicked the floor in an ever-growing tide, staining gloves, dripping from trembling hands. Commands snapped through the air, frantic and sharp, but outside, the world remained indifferent. The car disappeared into the storm, its presence fading like a ghost, detaching itself from the chaos it left in its wake.

The storm swallowed it whole. The child, small and fragile in the man’s arms, was carried deeper into the unknown. His luminous mark pulsed steadily in the dim interior of the car, casting eerie shadows, an unspoken weight settling in the space between them.

Fate had already turned its wheels. The countdown had begun.