After The Apocalypse, I Became A Mutant

Brooklyn, New York City

2050

...

The air buzzed with anticipation as cameras flashed incessantly in the grand press hall. At the center of the commotion stood a man in a pristine white coat, his silver-streaked beard lending him an air of authority. Flanked by a team of similarly clad colleagues, he approached the podium with a warm, practiced smile.

"Good day, everyone," he began. "I am John Fowler, President of the Vital Organization for Research on Transformations and Experiments in Xenogenesis, also known as VORTEX."

A murmur rippled through the crowd, accompanied by the frenzied scratching of pens against notepads.

"Mr. Fowler, what are your views on the aftermath of the meteor that struck Brooklyn two years ago?" a journalist asked, her voice cutting through the din.

John's smile faltered slightly, replaced by a somber expression. "As we all know, that day was a dark chapter for Brooklyn. The meteor not only devastated our city, leaving ruins in its wake, but it also discharged peculiar gases—what we've identified as M1 and M2."

The room tensed as the journalists leaned forward, scribbling notes.

A hand rose from the crowd. "Can you clarify the nature of these gases? Are they harmful?"

"According to our research, the gases were released moments after the meteor's impact. Their effects, however..." John paused and glanced at another assistant, who pressed a button on a remote. The screen behind him flickered to life.

Images flashed across the screen, each one unsettling. The first showed a teenage boy with enormous black, feathered wings sprouting from his back. The second was of a girl's neck, dark veins snaking beneath her skin. The final image depicted a boy baring razor-sharp fangs.

"Mutation," John said grimly, his voice steady. The journalists gasped, but John remained unfazed. "Are they harmful? I'll leave that to you to decide. But with the right planning and management, I believe these mutations can be used to humanity's advantage. That's why VORTEX exists—to research, educate, and ensure a safer future for everyone."

A hand shot up. "From what we've seen so far, Mr. Fowler, do these gases only affect teenagers?"

"So far, yes," John replied. "The age range for mutations appears to be between sixteen and twenty according to our data."

"And what steps are being taken to address this? Can you shed some light on the new VORTEX Academy?"

John's demeanor shifted, becoming more formal. "We've classified mutants into five groups based on their abilities: Ethereals, Sages, Ignis, Vipers, and Ravens. Ethereals are the rarest and most difficult to detect in DNA, making them particularly important to our research." He paused, allowing the journalists time to jot down notes before continuing. "To aid our efforts, the government has implemented mandatory testing for high school and university students within the affected age range. These tests, conducted monthly, ensure we can identify mutations early. Education has been made free and accessible to all, with strict policies preventing individuals in this age group from leaving the country without a VORTEX-issued test pass. Mutants who are identified will be sent to the VORTEX Academy for further study and training, as we work to develop an antidote."

Behind him, the screen shifted to an image of the academy. The futuristic skyscraper gleamed against a backdrop of verdant mountains, its spiraling architecture defying gravity. White panels interwove with green terraces cascading down the structure, while the interior featured sleek hostels, training grounds, and state-of-the-art labs.

John cleared his throat. "At the academy, students are fed, clothed, and housed. They also take practical courses to help them harness their abilities while contributing to our research."

"Isn't this just a glorified testing lab?" one journalist pressed.

John raised an eyebrow. "That's a harsh characterization. The academy will not only provide them with a safe space to grow but also allow us to deepen our research and develop potential antidotes, should they be needed."

"To further answer your question, let me introduce the face of VORTEX Academy, Tyler Edwards."

A smattering of applause followed as a boy of about seventeen entered the room, accompanied by a group of scientists. Tyler wore a sleek crimson and black jacket adorned with a badge—a coat of arms featuring claws, fangs, and outstretched wings crossed in an "X." His trousers, matching the jacket in deep crimson with subtle gray accents, tapered perfectly to complement his slim athletic build. Completing the ensemble, a pair of black leather boots gleamed faintly. His slim athletic frame and calm demeanor commanded attention as he stepped up to the podium.

"Good day, everyone," Tyler said, his voice steady. "I'm Tyler Edwards, a member of the Ignis faction and the face of VORTEX Academy."

"How has your experience been at the academy?"

"Delightful," Tyler replied with a faint smile. "Months ago, I couldn't control my abilities. But under Dr. Fowler's guidance, I've learned to see them as gifts, not curses. Our training is intensive but balanced, with ninety percent of our time focused on honing our powers. Families are allowed regular visits, and testing is limited to non-invasive procedures. No needles or knives, as some have speculated."

Satisfied nods swept through the audience.

"Can you demonstrate your abilities?"

John cleared his throat again, smoothly stepping in. "For safety reasons, demonstrations are not permitted at this time. But rest assured, when the time comes, we'll share more with you."

"Mr. Fowler," another journalist interjected, "you mentioned a rare group called the Ethereals. Should we be concerned?"

John's expression turned thoughtful. "Ethereals are unique, and their abilities are still under study. While they may be harder to detect, we're confident that our ongoing research will provide the answers we need. In the meantime, we urge the public to remain vigilant and follow government guidelines. I urge everyone to report any signs of mutation—red rashes, fatigue, purple veins, or unusual bruising on the back other symptoms are updated on the website. Curfews are in place for a reason."

Glancing at his assistant, who signaled the conference was over, John gave a final nod to the audience. "In the absence of further questions, I'll take my leave. Thank you."

With that, he turned and exited, leaving the journalists buzzing with speculation. Admist the crowd of journalists murmuring and brainstorming as they exited the hall. A person posed a point for further deliberation. "It's always the unique ones that are more dangerous."