THE RECKONING: THE WORLD'S WORST SCIENTIST.

Luther sat stiffly in the hard plastic chair of the hospital waiting room, his hands trembling as he clutched a paper cup of untouched coffee.

He had escaped unharmed with minor scratches.

The fluorescent lights above hummed faintly, making his headache worse.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

His brilliant idea, testing the Illuminate Vortex prototype on his personal jet wasn't reckless.

It was calculated, innovative, genius. Or at least, that's what he had told himself. What he hadn't expected was Amanda offering to drive him home, unknowingly becoming part of his ill-fated experiment.

He had forgotten he even put it in the jet engine, because everytime he was around Amanda he always screwed up.

Now she was in surgery, and he might be facing charges for attempted murder.

His stomach churned at the thought. What would he even say? That the energy fluctuations from the Illuminate Vortex caused an unidentified anomaly in the sky?

That his groundbreaking invention had almost killed one of the only people who believed in him?

Even if it was just a little?

The only person he probably cared about.

No one would care. They'd see the headlines: "Worst Scientist in History Nearly Kills Colleague in Reckless Experiment."

He buried his face in his hands, wishing he could disappear.

"Luther Ackerman?"

The sound of his name made him jump. A nurse stood in front of him, her expression neutral but weary.

"Yes?" he croaked.

"She's stable. The doctors are still monitoring her condition, but you can see her briefly."

Relief flooded his chest, but it was quickly replaced by guilt. Stable wasn't good. Stable wasn't okay. Stable was just… not dead.

He nodded and followed the nurse down the sterile, white corridor. Each step felt heavier than the last.

When they reached Amanda's room, he hesitated. Through the glass, he could see her lying unconscious, hooked up to monitors and IVs.

Her face was pale, a bandage wrapped around her head, and her arm was in a cast.

The sight made his throat tighten.

"You've got five minutes," the nurse said before walking away.

Luther stepped inside, the sound of the machines beeping softly in the background. He pulled up a chair and sat beside her bed, staring at her face.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "This wasn't supposed to happen."

He reached for her hand but stopped halfway, unsure if he even had the right to touch her after what he'd done.

The events of the crash replayed in his mind the jet spiraling out of control, Amanda's panicked screams, the blinding light from the anomaly.

He had thought the Illuminate Vortex was stable enough to test. Clearly, he was wrong. And now Amanda was paying the price.

If she was awake right she'd say I told you so, he chuckled in his misery.

The door creaked open, and he turned to see two men in dark suits enter the room.

Their expressions were unreadable, but the badges on their lapels said everything: government officials.

"Mr. Ackerman," one of them said, his voice cold and professional. "We need to talk."

Luther felt his stomach drop. Of course they were here.

"We have some questions about the incident," the second man added, stepping closer. "And about your… prototype."

Luther opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out.

"You do realize," the first man continued, "that this situation could have been much worse. It's a miracle there weren't civilian casualties."

Luther swallowed hard. "It was an accident. I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

"Accident or not, you've created something that poses a significant risk," the second man said. "We need to confiscate the Illuminate Vortex immediately."

Luther's eyes widened. "Confiscate? No, you can't do that. It's my work!"

"It's also a public safety hazard," the first man countered. "And given the circumstances, you're lucky we're not arresting you right now."

"You do realize you could have died Mr Ackerman, right?"

Luther's heart pounded in his chest. His work was all he had. If they took it away, he'd have nothing, no chance to prove himself, no chance to fix what had happened.

"This technology is dangerous," the second man said, his tone firm. "We'll be in touch about next steps. For now, stay put and don't try anything… creative."

The two men turned and left, leaving Luther sitting there, his mind racing.

He looked back at Amanda, his guilt deepening. She wouldn't be here if it weren't for him. And now the government was breathing down his neck, ready to dismantle everything he'd worked for.

But deep down, he knew they didn't understand the Illuminate Vortex like he did. They didn't see its potential.

He didn't have time to waste anymore, he had to test it before it was too late, before they took everything his worked for his entire life away from him.

"I'm sorry Amanda, but this project is my life."

This wasn't over.

Luther stood, his jaw set. He was going to fix this. For Amanda. For his work. For himself.

Even if it killed him.