January 29, 3070
The drops of water in the sink fill the silence of this 700 sq ft room.
As I stare at the ceiling, the softness of the mattress does nothing to ease the tension in my body. My muscles are coiled tight, my mind racing, replaying the day's events; everything. Every agonizing moment since that cursed day.
My eyes flicker shut, and the memories crash over me.
The dread creeps in as the past claws its way back into the forefront of my mind. Hands everywhere — too many hands — gripping, pulling, tearing at my skin, suffocating me. My family's screams mingle with the sound of crackling flames, their cries drowning out the world. I see my mother, my father, my neighbors — all reduced to ash. The acid splashing onto that small girl's face, the shriek that echoed through the streets, a punishment for the crime of making a noise. The searing image of her disfigured, burning flesh is forever branded into my memory.
I squeeze my eyes tighter, trying to block it all out, but it's futile. Peace has been elusive since that day. All I've ever wanted was some quiet, some stillness, a moment where my mind could rest. But even in sleep, there's no refuge. My body rests, but my mind — it never stops. Always calculating, always hunting.
Because of them.
Because of him.
And he's alive.
The one I've spent years hunting, the one who put me through hell. The man I swore to destroy, the monster behind The Lab. He's alive and still leading the very organization that ruined my life. My pulse quickens, my heart hammering in my chest, but not out of fear.
It's something else.
Something darker.
I will destroy him. I will bring everything crashing down around him.
My heart calms slightly as I focus my attention on my breathing, but my mind doesn't. It continues to race, flicking through images — faces, places, names, plans — all fueling the fire of my revenge. I breathe, grounding myself in that rage, letting it wash over me like a cleansing storm. It's the only thing that keeps me going.
I open my eyes, turning my head to focus on Vinay, who's slowly sitting up. Everyone has their own mattress, but I made sure mine was closest to his.
I lost everyone, my entire family, and maybe it's his innocence or maybe the fact that, like me, he's most likely lost his mother to this damned organization, but I feel this overwhelming need to protect him.
He blinks, looking around before his gaze lands on me. His face lights up with a small, sleepy smile, and he slips off the mattress with soft, careful steps. I don't move, just track him as he approaches. He reaches me, poking my arm, his face scrunching up when I don't react immediately.
When I raise an eyebrow at him, he grins widely. "I missed you."
I almost smile. Almost. "I'm always with you."
His grin turns into a full smile, his eyes brightening even more. "Even when you're lost?"
This time, I can't help the chuckle that escapes me. "Even when I'm lost."
The corners of his eyes crinkle with his huge grin. "Where are you even learning these big phrases, squirt?" I ask, shifting slightly as he sits down beside me, immediately playing with my fingers like he always does.
"I'm a big boy," he huffs proudly. But just as quickly, his brows furrow, and his shoulders slump. "But I can't protect you yet. Brothers are supposed to protect their sisters."
His words hit me harder than I expect. My chest tightens, and for a moment, something other than anger and vengeance fills the void inside me.
Belonging.
It's been so long since I felt it, since I felt anything like this.
I look at him, this little boy with eyes too bright and a heart too pure for the world we live in, and I feel a spark of something warm.
I hold his fingers, stilling his playful fiddling with my fingers. The touch lingers, grounding me in the moment. "You do protect me," I murmur, my voice quiet and sincere, my words genuine. "Especially when I'm lost."
A smile breaks across his face, bright and unrestrained, his eyes alight with pride. He always wears his emotions so openly, so honestly. And I'll make sure it's always like this. "How?" he asks, tilting his head with childlike curiosity, his voice brimming with innocence.
For a moment, I close my eyes, letting the warmth of his presence fill the space between us. Then, in just because it's too much, I give him a light, playful shove. "You're being too loud and too nosy," I laugh, breaking the tender atmosphere.
He squeals, giggling, and he looks like that cozy and soft teddy bear, wrapped in my oversized coat because we still don't have any blankets. His laughter fills the room, warming the cold, sterile air around us.
But just like that, the moment is shattered. The door to our quarters creaks open, and a CORP steps inside, holding blankets. "Rest for now," he says, his voice flat and indifferent. "You may visit the library section after 4 until 6. I'll be stationed outside your door. Ask me, and I'll let you out."
Without waiting for a response, he leaves, the door clicking shut behind him. Nara is the first to jump up, hurrying to grab a blanket for herself. I start to rise, but Vinay is faster. "I'll get one for you!" he calls, dashing to grab a blanket just as I sit back down.
I shake my head and glance around the room. Bhavya and Karan are at it again, trading insults under their breath, just like always. But this time, I get it. I'd probably lose my mind if I had to share a bed with my sworn enemy too.
The sleeping arrangements were less than ideal. There were four beds and a single cot. Vinay, naturally, snagged the cot without anyone daring to argue. Nara and I each took our own beds — Nara had been determined, and no one questioned me. Zuri and Elsa were perfectly content to share a bed, grinning like the cold wasn't biting at their skin.
That left Bhavya and Karan. With a few well-aimed glares and grumbled threats, they'd decided neither of them was sleeping on the floor. It was beneath their pride, of course. So now, here they were, crammed together on a bed, both too stubborn to admit how miserable they were. The biting cold didn't care about their egos, though, and I couldn't help but find it a little amusing.
Both of them stood at around 6'2", towering over most of us, and while the mattress was large and comfortable, it wasn't nearly big enough for two giants with their muscular builds. They were practically spilling over the edges, limbs awkwardly folded and pressed together in their stubborn refusal to give an inch.
Vinay tossed my blanket haphazardly at my feet before rushing to grab his own, only to find Karan had already claimed one and placed it neatly on his cot. The glare Vinay shot him could've cut through steel, but Karan just stuck his tongue out in response, his eyes flicking towards mine.
For a brief moment, something unreadable flashed in his gaze before he offered me a small smile.
I turned my back on him and closed my eyes. Screw him.
He could drop dead for all I cared.
゜゜゜゜゜゜゜゜゜゜゜゜゜゜゜
At exactly five, me, Bhavya and Karan moved through the bunker, the CORP leading the way. I wanted to go alone but anyways.
The hallways were suffocatingly cold, lined with nothing but generators and systems, each one buzzing with life but offering no comfort. I couldn't shake the feeling that we were descending deeper into something alive, something breathing, though it was all metal and machinery.
We finally stopped in front of a door, blank and unmarked like all the others. The CORP slid it open and a library, small yet huge enough for an underground system, came into view.
A library in a place like this was strange, almost surreal.
I hesitated at the entrance, eyes scanning the room. It wasn't enormous, but it was big enough to make me feel like I'd stepped into a different world. Shelves filled with books, dusty tomes next to shiny, newer editions. It smelled of old paper and ink, a scent that somehow cut through the cold sterility of the bunker.
As I moved through the shelves, my fingers brushed lightly against the spines of the books. Titles jumped out at me — Quantitative Techniques, Ethics, Neurological Manipulation — all the things people in a place like this shouldn't need.
But before I could grab one for myself, the CORP handed me a book.
I raise a brow, the title catching my eye: Advance.
He didn't answer. His face remained as blank as ever as he placed the book in my hands and stepped back, retreating to stand by the door like a statue.
There were folded papers stuck inside, crinkled from age. I flipped through, eyes scanning over charts, graphs, and dense scientific jargon. Slowly, the pieces began to connect in my head — genes, mutations, splicing. They were manipulating DNA in ways I'd only heard about in theory, tweaking genomes to design something…different.
Very different.
The blue eyes. The decayed stench. The strange behavior. This wasn't just some advanced study — they were doing this here. Experimenting. On people.
I'd known this but being trained about and all of it actually becoming real in front of your eyes are two different things.
I snapped the book shut once I was done reading the folded pages, the implications swirling in my mind.
I wandered further into the library, needing distance from what I'd just read. The shelves grew narrower, dimmer, until I found myself in a section that was my biggest interest: weaponry. I wasn't expecting much, but then something caught my eye — a single book with a red spine, standing out like a warning.
My hand hovered over it for a second before I grabbed it, the weight of it unsettling. Before I could open it, two pieces of paper tucked inside, old and yellowing with time, slid out. I caught them before they could hit the ground.
The first one was a report.
Subject 15A5. Day 207.
I felt the ground shift beneath me as I began reading. Subject 15A5 had been injected with not one, but two viruses. My breath caught in my throat as I recognized the names: Variola pestis and Morbus hemaglutinum. Thirty years ago, these were known as the deadliest plague viruses, wiping out millions worldwide.
But the scientists hadn't just used the original strains. They had manipulated them, combined their effects — one attacking the immune system, the other the neurological pathways. Together, they created something monstrous.
My eyes skimmed the words as my brain started to spin from all of this. The subject's skin had turned green, her body rejecting itself. Blood had poured from her nose, eyes, and ears, and she vomited blood constantly, until nothing was left but bile. She'd lost her hearing too.
Five casualties were listed at the bottom, but the ink was faded, the number faint. Five lives taken in one test. The paper felt ancient in my hands.
But the second paper — it was fresh. Crisp, like it had been placed here just for me.
And when I saw it, my blood ran cold.
My name. My blood type. A Potential stamp, and next to it, two casualties marked in bold.
Two casualties. What the hell did that mean? Was I next?
The words echoed in my mind, a chilling mantra that quickened my pulse and sent adrenaline coursing through my veins. I shoved the papers back into the book, my heart racing so hard I thought it might burst out of my chest.
I needed air and what I needed even more was to get the fuck out of here.
I spun around, desperation fueling my movement as I rushed out of the library. My thoughts were a chaotic jumble of fear and confusion, and I nearly collided with the CORP standing sentinel at the door. He called my name, but I didn't stop.
I couldn't.
The need to escape overrode everything else. I dashed down the corridor, each breath becoming a labored gasp, the sharp sting in my lungs urging me to push harder, faster.
When I finally reached Dr. Rajbhar's office, I didn't knock. I burst through the door, my heart pounding in my ears, desperate for answers. But the sight before me made time go still.
Sitting there, looking perfectly at ease, was a man I recognized. It was one of the three board members who had conspicuously missed my investiture ceremony, and the predatory smile on his face spiked my anger. His eyes glimmered with a knowing light, as if he had been anticipating this very moment.
"Miss Kratos," he said, his voice smooth and dripping with amusement. The tone felt mocking, as though my panic was a source of entertainment for him. "We finally meet."