The shadow broke first.
A half-second twitch—barely more than a blink. The tray’s outline no longer aligned with the ceiling flicker. My eyes caught it before my mind did. Wrong shadow. Wrong angle. Wrong timing.
A disturbance.
A crack in the pattern.
And just like that, the fog inside snapped like glass.
Tile. Spoon. Tray handle. Scratches.
mory rushed in like floodwater through a breached dam.
The static in my head scread louder. The diagnostic hum crescendoed into a droning throb, low-frequency pulses ant to numb. It word into my skull, vibrating against the base of my spine.
Above , the collar descended—arms unfurling like the jaws of so slow-moving predator. Padded clamps flexed, preparing to lock.
I moved before thinking.
Twisting sideways, I threw my weight into the collar’s housing, slamming my shoulder into the cold tal just as its arms reached for my throat. A bolt of pain seared across my ribs.
tal groaned.
The entire unit lurched, but didn’t stop.
No ti to check for fractures. No ti to think.
My right wrist twisted just enough for the cuff’s bent edge—sharpened by hours of scraping—to catch on the actuator seam.
I jamd it in and pressed.
The whirring motor shrieked. Sparks burst against my face. Hot, stinging. The actuator seized.
The collar spasd—locked up mid-descent, now hanging askew like a broken noose.
The cart tipped.
Trays clattered. Vials shattered. Needles scattered across the sterile floor in a chorus of tal and glass.
The guard moved.
Fast.
Trained.
But not fast enough.
I grabbed the flailing collar arm and drove it into his throat. He gurgled—a horrible, wet choke—and staggered backward, clutching at his neck.
Behind him, the scientist shrieked, "He’s active! Call 3829! Call him—now!"
Her voice cracked with panic.
Good. That ant he wasn’t here.
Yet.
But I could feel him, sowhere in the building.
Like pressure behind my eyes. Like a spider’s web stretched across my thoughts—pulling, loosening, pulling again.
My skills stuttered. Not gone. Just fraying.
I turned toward the woman with the injection tray. She’d frozen only a second—but it was one second too many. I kicked the steel doorfra with the heel of my bare foot.
It slamd shut with a hollow boom.
She gasped. The tray jolted from her hands. One of the glass syringes exploded against the wall. Another skittered beneath the bench, spinning like a compass gone mad.
Then movent again.
The guard surged.
He’d recovered faster than expected—rage overriding pain. He lunged, fists cocked. I went to dodge left, muscle mory taking over—
Failure: Skill Activation – Muscle Reinforcent (Lv. 4)
It hit like a misfire. A stutter in my bones.
Too slow.
His elbow crashed against my cheekbone, snapping my head sideways. I saw white, then red. A ring of sound collapsed around .
Blood filled my mouth.
Pain flared across my temple, and for a second I staggered, hands out, swaying like I was drunk.
No rhythm. No flow. Nothing clean.
Just noise and whatever felt natural in the mont.
My hand reached out, more flail than aim. I caught the overturned cart’s edge. Dragged it. Pivoted.
Flung it.
The tal legs clipped the guard’s shins. He fell forward with a grunt, knees skidding against the tile. I dove—not for the door, but for the scattered syringes.
My fingers found one.
No label. Didn’t matter.
I drove it into his thigh. Hard.
He twitched. Tried to reach for it. Then sagged as the sedative took hold.
His head hit the floor with a soft thunk.
I rose, swaying, breath hitching like a collapsing engine. My hands were slick—sweat or blood or both.
I stumbled over the body, kneeling down just long enough to fish out his ID badge.
Access Key: Verified.
The door hissed open behind .
I didn’t look back.
I slipped through the fra, hunched and breathless, the alarms still silent—for now. The hallway on the other side felt colder. Quieter.
But the static was still in my head. Just beneath the skin.
And 3829 wasn’t gone.
He would be sowhere in the facility.
Hallways stretched in antiseptic loops. White, humming, pulsing with chanical breath.
Instinct: Left. Pause. Hide. Vent.
Strategist did inform of sothing. I realized the interference wasn’t complete. 3829 hadn’t seen yet. It must be sight-based. That was the gap and so as long as I avoid him, I should be able to sowhat use my skills.
My legs moved stiffly, off-beat. I ducked into a supply closet as two shadows passed by outside.
In the dark, I tore open a uniform bag. A nurse’s coat. Slipped it on. Hid my cuffs beneath sleeves. My hands shook.
Footsteps. A woman passed by. Nurse. Glanced in.
"You new?"
"Transferred, I’m looking for the new subjects." I muttered.
Activate: Interrogation.
Failure: Skill Activation - Interrogation (Lv. 6)
Her eyes narrowed. "You look pale."
"Need air."
She shrugged and moved on.
I closed the door. Breathed in chemicals. Out sweat.
Activate: Deduction.
Failure: Skill Activation - Deduction (Lv. 8)
I cursed silently. My body was overheating. Vision blurring. Corridor lights buzzed as I stepped out again.
System Warning: Neural Fatigue Threshold 63%
All skills reduced to 63% efficiency.
"Shut up," I whispered, crawling under a pipe grate and into the next hall.
I looked for [Evacuation Access]. [Surface Level]. Anything.
Instead, I moved downward.
My feet knew before I did. My sense of danger twisted sideways.
Instinct hadn’t steered wrong yet. But this place—
Red hazard lines traced the corridor. Older signage. Cracked tile. Ergency lights flickering.
"Why did you bring here?" I told myself.
I stepped forward.
The air changed.
Burned plastic. Sothing acrid. Familiar.
I turned to leave.
The door sealed behind .
Locked.
Ahead: a hall of windows. Thick glass. Steel trims. Embedded into the walls like animal enclosures.
Observation chambers.
Lights flickered on.
One. Two. Three.
Silhouettes behind fogged panels. Beds. Restraints. Hanging tubes.
So empty.
So not.
A side door read: [Monitor Control - South Wing C].
I entered.
Old terminals humd to life.
I swiped the guard’s badge. Files flickered onto the screen.
Subject #0112 – Cognitive Enhancent Trial – FAILURE
Subject #0018 – System Synergy Calibration – TERMINATED
Subject #0243 – Bio-Psych Job Sync Testing – Alexis H.
Everything inside stopped.
I couldn’t breathe.
Alexis.
Flashbacks hit like shrapnel. Her migraines. Her obsession with job anomalies. Her worry about my overexcretion. Her voice, curious, yet serious: "Your body is full of anomalies to be discovered."
The monitor flickered.
Security Feed: Room #0243 – LIVE
I leaned closer.
Inside:
A surgical room. tal walls. Gurney. Restraints.
Alexis.
Eyes fluttering. Pale. IVs in both arms. Electrodes across her temples. A cracked lip.
"Preparing for Subject Wake-Up Cycle."
"System Stress Test – Round 2 Initiating."
A soft sound ca from the speakers. Not a scream. A whisper.
"R—Rey...?"
Then static.
The screen cut.
A tal panel slamd shut over the glass. Red ergency light filled the room.
Lockdown.
Alarms wailed.
Footsteps. Rapid. Echoing from the hallway behind .
Before the room could close, I ran inside as the tal door shut behind . Looking at it, it was durable, but felt light. Perhaps I could lift it if I had all my skills. But more importantly, there was soone else here.
I turned, heart pounding—
—and ca face to face with Alexis.
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