2 - Fate
Putting his trust in fate, he slipped back through the hidden passage and left.
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After double-checking that both doors were securely locked, Atticus crouched onto the grimy floor. He began sifting through the scattered fragments, piecing together what he could from the unintelligible remains.
The longer he searched, the more volatile his mood became.
After fourteen years of research and zero result, had he finally lost his sanity?
No. He retrieved a worn piece of paper from his pocket, rereading it for what felt like the hundredth time that day. It was the opening page of Heinrich Krausser's final draft for the Journal of Genetic Engineering Breakthroughs.
If this first page existed, the rest had to as well.
For sure, Miriam Schlinger deceived him long enough. If she truly knew nothing about Heinrich Krausser's latest invention, then how did this piece of paper land on her desk?
Atticus cursed under his breath.
The scientific paper.
It must be here, yes.
For fourteen years, this room remained a deserted tomb, locked away and untouched. Heinrich, that enigmatic recluse, must have scribbled his formula somewhere here, probably at a corner of the walls.
Maybe the rest of the paper was stuck behind the file cabinets.
With an impressive force, Atticus tore the file cabinets off the floor and sent them crashing to the floor.
But the wall behind the cabinets was empty. Some paper was stuck between the cabinets and the wall, but they were merely copies of past scientific journals.
Atticus roared in frustration.
"Where is it?" He hissed. His hands tore through documents, flipping them open with a flurry of paper. Each page brought no answer, only to be discarded unceremoniously in a growing pile of rejects.
"Come on, come out now. I don't have much time..."
Atticus had to find it tonight, before Miriam realized that he stole her key.
And then, he saw it.
The number 2 in similar font at the bottom of the page, referring to page number 2 of the paper draft he was looking for.
He bent down to take a better look at the content, but then suddenly, a sharp, muffled sound sliced through the air.
The lamp above his head exploded in a firework of electrical sparks.
Atticus whipped around, confusion etching his features. A beat of stunned silence, then a strangled "What...?" escaped his lips. Before he could react further, a blow struck his abdomen, sending him flying towards the Grandfather Clock. The mahogany giant toppled with a deafening crash, its weight pinning him beneath.
Atticus let out a muffled grunt. He struggled to free himself, but another gunshot tore through the air and silenced him for good.
Several seconds passed before a black-gloved hand nudged open a hidden door tucked into the corner.
A young man, clad entirely in black, stepped through, his discerning grayish blue eyes taking in the disarray of the room.
From under the Grandfather Clock, Atticus' motionless hand peeked out. There was no way to ensure that he was truly gone, unless the young man planned to pull him out of the clock and examine his pulse.
Either way, with such a severe injury and no hope of assistance, Atticus' chances of survival seemed bleak.
Apprehension flickered across the young man's face. Putting his trust in fate, he slipped back through the hidden passage and left.
After a long crawl on hands and knees, he emerged at the tunnel's end, where a bag containing a fresh set of clothes awaited him.
He shed his disguise -- gloves, mask, hat, shirt, and pants -- with practiced efficiency and left the soiled clothes and weapon behind.
Afterward, he pushed the vent window free, squeezing through the opening before carefully securing it back in place.
With all traces of the crime left behind, he slung his empty bag against his back and sauntered towards the locker room to retrieve his coat and scarf.
Inside the secret room, Atticus' hand jerked to life.
"Miriam... Schlinger..." He hissed, blood running down a corner of his lips incessantly. "Miriam Schlinger..."
Do you think that you can get rid of me that easily?
Very good...
Very well done...
With a lot of efforts, Atticus Bates fished a small black box from his coat pocket. With a flick of his thumb, it sprang open, revealing a single, gleaming red button within.
A crazed giggle erupted from his throat as he stared at the red button.
"If I cannot have Heinrich Krausser's experimental results, then no one shall!"
On his way to the locker room, the young man came across his supervisor, Nurse Mareike Holtz. The beta nurse was particularly irritable after meeting Atticus Bates tonight.
"Julian Haas," she beckoned the young man over. "What are you still doing here? Didn't you work the morning shift today?"
Julian walked over with a gentle smile on his face.
"Good evening, Nurse Holtz. I forgot something in my locker room. I am here to get it back."
Mareike scoffed.
"It has to be something pretty damn important if you come back here all the way at midnight."
Instead of responding to Mareike's comment, Julian shifted the bag on his shoulder, acting as if the empty bag held something within.
"Anyway, go home now. You are an omega. You should know better than to wander around alone at night," Mareike raised a hand in a dismissive wave.
Julian shot his supervisor another polite smile.
"Thank you, Nurse Holtz. I will be on my way now."
Mareike heaved a sigh as she watched Julian's retreating figure. This male omega was easily the most attractive creature she had ever come across, but he seemed to be oblivious to his own charm.
Oh, well.
Mareike shrugged.
Tomorrow was another day.
Tomorrow, she must sit together with Julian and talk to him properly about potentially dangerous circumstances to avoid as an omega.
BOOM
Her thought was cut short by a booming roar that ripped through the air. Before she could even process the sound, Mareike felt herself lifted and slammed against the wall.
BOOM
The world dissolved into chaos as the building groaned and collapsed, burying everything under a mountain of rubble.