ALIVE?

January 29, 3070

As we march through the hallway, the weight of everything presses down on me.

Vinay is bundled in Karan's arms, Zuri Elsa and Nara hover near each other, and Bhavya's eyes dart around, tracking every movement of the CORPS escorting us. I trail just behind the leader, my iron rod clenched in one hand. My mind is buzzing with thoughts of Dr. Rajbhar, the videos, and the man — the one I've spent years hunting.

The corridor stretches on, seemingly endless, bathed in a cold, clinical light that reflects off the stark, sterile walls. Each step echoes, unnaturally loud in the silence, amplifying the weight of the tension that grips my chest. The scent of burnt flesh and scorched metal hangs heavy in the air, clawing at my senses.

I look around, my eyes sharping at the sight of the necrogens, strewn about like discarded refuse. Their bodies — no, what's left of them — are a grotesque display of carnage.

The canisters have done their work, and the result is horrifyingly precise; Chunks of flesh melting away, leaving gaping holes in their bodies.

Even in death, the necrogens are unsettling.

We keep moving, pushing through the eerie stillness of the aftermath when finally, we approach a set of massive metal doors.

The leader lifts his hand to his microphone and mutters something I can't make out, and then there's a soft click. The doors slide open with a quiet hum, revealing the small, confined foyer.

Its startling in its simplicity. Sterile, like the rest of the facility, the space feels claustrophobic, almost suffocating after the long, dread-filled walk through the corridor. The air inside is colder, a stark contrast to the burning heat of the plasma-ravaged hall behind me. The light overhead buzzes softly, casting a clinical glow over the smooth, featureless walls.

When we were brought here the first time, we formed a line and entered Section 1 of NEUN.

Just like that, once again, we form a line and exit the same Section.

Directly in front of us stands an elevator, its polished steel doors gleaming under the light. It looks like it belongs in some corporate building, not here in the bowels of Neun where monstrous things like necrogens are born. The sight of it is unsettling in its normalcy, as if all the horrors we just faced outside don't belong here, in this plain, sterile box of a room.

The leader steps forward, lifting a hand to his microphone. His voice is low, a muttered command that I strain to catch, but I manage to pick out a few clipped words before there's a soft, confirming click. The door opens soundlessly, almost too smooth for something so imposing.

He steps inside first, and I follow close behind. Once all of us are in, his gloved hand hovers over the elevator's buttons. Back then, I had noticed the array of buttons — Ground, First, Second, and Third floor — but what stuck out most was the intercom button.

He presses it, and I watch closely as the panel responds immediately, lights flickering to life as if awakening from a deep slumber. A small screen flashes on, glowing faintly in the dim light. He types in a password, quick and efficient — U13.

I've read or heard this combination somewhere. The memory is distant and very vague.

The elevator jerks into motion, moving down.

Down, down, down.

It doesn't stop anywhere.

As it descends deeper than I thought possible, I know something's wrong. The pit in my stomach grows.

My heart races, but not from fear.

It's something else.

Anticipation.

I've read about these underground labs, studied the layouts in the materials we were given during training. Every inch of the schematics was etched into my brain. But this... this isn't what I expected.

This isn't what I know.

What I knew was that once I made it past the Section 1 door, I'd get inside the elevator, head straight to the Second Floor, grab a few critical documents, infiltrate the Security Room, and then get out the main gate towards The Lab.

I had a plan, a route, and contingencies for any interruptions.

But none of those plans accounted for this.

The elevator's descent feels longer than it should, and unease tightens its grip on my chest. The air in here, confined and cold, weighs on me like a forgotten secret.

My suspicion about an underground lab in NEUN has lingered in the back of my mind since the catastrophe during my investiture ceremony—an event that should have been routine but spiraled into something darker. I had written it off at the time, chalking it up to chaos. It didn't disrupt my plan, so I was fine with moving forward.

But now? Now everything has been thrown off course.

My thoughts shift back to U13  — that code. It must mean something, something tied to whatever is really going on down here. Maybe it's tied with The Lab. But does that organization even know of these labs under NEUN?

The elevator jerks to a halt, the sudden stop jarring my already tense nerves.

The doors slide open with a soft hiss, releasing a sterile, cold air that prickles my skin. For a moment, all I hear is the faint hum of machinery and my own breath, tight in my chest.

Then I see it.

Right in front of us, dominating the dimly lit space, is a massive cross-like symbol. It's engraved into a shield, the edges sharp and jagged, like it's been carved with purpose. The cross itself is bold, not like a simple religious icon or a decorative feature — it's more primal, more deliberate. There's a weight to it, like it carries meaning far beyond what's visible.

My gaze trails down, catching the single word etched beneath the symbol: Revolution.

The word pulses in my mind, a stark contrast to the clinical environments I'd always associated with The Lab. I feel a chill creep up my neck as I stare at it, the realization settling in slowly.

This place… doesn't belong to The Lab. At least, not the one I know.

The shield, the symbol — it all feels defiant, rebellious even. A direct challenge to the control and precision The Lab prides itself on. The sleek, calculated environments I've read about, the sterile labs and quiet corridors… this isn't that. This place feels raw, like something is brewing beneath the surface, something the higher-ups might not even know exists.

I glance at the others, their eyes flicking over the shield, and they wear the same surprised and amazed reactions. The Corps around us don't even spare it a second look, as if this symbol is just part of their everyday world.

As soon as we turn left though, my eyebrows raise slightly.

Stationed right besides the elevator, standing like a silent sentinel, is a robot — a hulking metallic figure, its body gleaming under the cold, sterile lights. Beside it are three more CORPS, standing rigid, their armor dark and intimidating. The robot's glowing eyes fix on us as soon as the doors open. There's no hesitation in its movements, as if it's already analyzing everything about us.

It moves forward smoothly, emitting a low mechanical hum. I notice the small, almost invisible sensors embedded into its arms and chest. Without a word, the machine begins its inspection, scanning us one by one. A small beam of light sweeps over Karan's face first, reading his temperature and vitals. Then, it focuses on his eyes, a sharp red laser tracing the irises with clinical precision. He winces but doesn't move, and I know what comes next.

Bhavya, Vinay and Nara undergo the same treatment. The robot's gaze flicks to them, and they stand as still as statues. Their faces are tense, but they follow the motions silently. After the scans are complete, the CORPS stationed at the door gesture to their weapons.

"Drop them," one orders.

Karan narrows his eyes for a moment but complies, dropping his weapon with a dull thud to the floor. Bhavya is next and then Nara, Zuri and Elsa does the same. The CORP doesn't even flinch, don't even acknowledge the hesitation in their movements. They're trained for this. The machine does its work, scanning each weapon as it hits the ground.

Then it's my turn.

The robot turns to me, its cold metal limbs whirring, and I feel the heat of its scan wash over my skin. My temperature shows normal — of course. The laser traces the edges of my eyes, my irises flashing back with defiance.

I don't budge. My grip tightens on my iron rod.

The leader takes a step toward me, his face set in that blank, unflinching mask. "Drop your weapon," he says, his voice steady. But there's an edge to it, like he's ready for resistance.

I raise a brow. "And you swear on your life to protect me?"

"Yes. I do," his answer is immediate, without the slightest pause.

I let the iron rod slip from my grasp. He won't budge and I need to know what's further this hell. I nod, my eyes never leaving his. "I'll hold you to that."

The corner of his eyes crinkle slightly and amusement flickers into them for a brief moment before he is back to being himself. In the ghost of a nod, he leads the way and we follow him silently.

His three men are ahead of us and I count two more behind as one stays close, walking right next to us, ever watchful. I can feel the tension buzzing between our group and the CORPS, like an unspoken battle of wills.

As we walk, I feel a faint tug at my hair. It's subtle, but unmistakable.

And I know it's him as my hairpin slips back into its place with deft fingers.

I glance over at him sharply, my eyes narrowing, but he meets my gaze with a calm, knowing expression. Choosing not to acknowledge whatever silent message he's trying to send, I look ahead, taking in everything that slowly comes into view.

We approach a black tinted door and when it opens, I feel my brain spin with everything I've known and with everything I'm seeing now.

The moment we step into the underground lab, it feels like stepping into another world — one detached from the chaos and ruin outside. The air is sterile, almost unnaturally cold, with a faint antiseptic smell that lingers at the back of my throat. The ceiling arches high above, lined with industrial-grade lights that cast an eerie glow over everything.

The space is vast, filled with towering machines that hum and beep rhythmically, their sleek, metallic surfaces glinting under the artificial light.

Scientists in lab coats are working frantically, their hands moving over consoles and screens, completely absorbed in whatever hellish experiments they're running. They barely notice us, too focused on their tasks.

Towering servers line the walls, their blinking lights casting a sickly green hue across the polished, metallic floors. Huge transparent cylinders stand upright along one side, filled with some sort of glowing liquid, cables snaking out from their bases and feeding into nearby machines. Within the cylinders, vague shapes float — animal-like, but distorted, unfinished, or… unnatural. I can't shake the feeling that they're not entirely alive.

The thought is creepy enough in itself.

The walls are lined with consoles, each manned by a scientist clad in white lab coats, their faces hidden behind masks and reflective goggles. They're moving with a sense of controlled panic, their fingers flying over keyboards, adjusting knobs, monitoring screens filled with streams of data I can't begin to decipher.

Holographic displays float in front of them, showing complex gene sequences, cellular structures, and anatomical diagrams. The images flicker and shift as they modify the parameters, altering something deep within the code of life itself. It's clear that whatever they're working on is beyond the scope of normal science.

This is bioengineering taken to an extreme — reckless and terrifying.

Every few moments, an alarm beeps softly, followed by the low murmur of scientists speaking in clipped, hushed tones. Some are bent over consoles, others are working with specimen trays filled with tissues and organs, meticulously examining them under bright, sterile lights.

The technology, though advanced, feels strangely unfamiliar. At first glance, it's almost identical to the equipment used in The Lab—genetic sequencers, neural oscillators, bio-synaptic integrators—key tools for manipulating life on a cellular level. These are the machines that mold DNA like clay, rewire brains, and stitch together biology with terrifying precision.

But something's off.

The arrangement, the design, even the way the machines hum feels different, almost alien.

The scientists here don't seem to care. Their hands move over the consoles with mechanical precision, barely looking up as they adjust settings and input commands. Their faces are etched with focus, absorbed in whatever dark project they're racing to complete.

I can see them working with bio-synaptic links, manipulating test subjects behind transparent screens, using the same tech The Lab did to create Necrogens — but faster, more refined, as if they're perfecting the very monsters that roam outside these walls.

I wonder how my mentor missed this?

One right and three lefts later, we stop in front of an unmarked door.

The leader turns to me, "Only you will meet with her," he says, his tone final.

I glance back, and just like what we meant, everyone is held back just a few steps away. I watch as they're given food and water. They're being given food and water — at least they're not being tossed aside like expendable pawns.

I step into the room, and my eyes immediately lock onto her — Dr. Shanaya Rajbhar — seated at a sleek, metal table. Beside her is a CORP I don't recognize, his uniform indicating a higher rank than the others I've encountered. He's bulkier, his presence exuding authority and intimidation.

Their calm demeanor contrasts sharply with the tension suffocating the air. I want to shout, to demand answers, but I restrain myself. I need to gather information, to play this right.

"Iris", she speaks and her lips tilt up ever so slightly. "The Commander and I have been expecting you. Have a seat."

I clench my jaw but take a seat anyway. I need to hear whatever she has to say first.

The commander leans forward, his arms crossed over his chest. "We're still investigating how the necrogens breached NEUN. This underground lab is the only one in the facility. We've infiltrated The Lab's main labs, but they operate with extreme secrecy. We suspect they have hidden underground labs."

He then tilts his head, his eyes narrowing. "Just like you."

I raise a brow, feigning indifference. Is he accusing me? Bad for him I don't care.

And though his words makes sense, it also feels like a fraction of the truth. There's always more lurking in the shadows.

"And recently," he continues, lowering his voice, "The Lab transferred a substantial amount of money to an untraceable source. Something monumental is unfolding — something bigger than just these labs. We just don't have all the pieces yet."

I glance at Dr. Rajbhar, and she gives a subtle nod.

I almost roll my eyes.

Do I look like I'm verifying his words?

I want to convey to them, without saying a word, that I don't give a damn about their half-baked revelations. I'm on a mission, and I'd like to resume that, thank you very much.

It's frustrating how slow they are. I already know about this shipment. There are others like me, trained alongside me, who have disguised themselves as students. They're lurking everywhere.

And one of them informed me about this two freaking months ago.

I know about the money transfer. It was a substantial amount, but not to some untraceable source.

I freaking tracked it myself. That night in the library, when I spotted Bhavya talking to the unknown man — more like bitching about me — I was there, my laptop in my bag. I had slipped into Zone 2, a zone that's forbidden for a reason.

There was a safe hidden there somewhere, made by someone who was just as thirsty for revenge as I am. Unfortunately, he got caught, but the safe remained a ghost. They could never find it in that zone, which is why it became off-limits.

But I found it. I managed to extract the papers and the diary within, leaving without a trace.

The very next day, thanks to that diary, I tracked the shipment. The diary might be two decades old, but organizations like The Lab never change their patterns. Call it ego, ritual, or whatever you want — they don't deviate. The only thing that shifts is the technology.

So I know exactly where that money went.

As I mentally rewind to the source's name, my eyes widen slightly.

So that's where I've heard U13.

"Something clicked?" Dr. Rajbhar's voice pulls me from my thoughts. Without hesitation, I ask the question I know will force her to lie.

"What is U13?"

The commander glances at Dr. Rajbhar, who stiffens imperceptibly. She quickly masks it with a practiced shrug. "It's merely a theory named after a prominent genetic engineer. It doesn't hold much significance."

I don't buy it for a second, but I resist the urge to press further.

Turning back to the commander, I ask, "So, what's our next move?"

The commander turns to the woman again and she shrugs again. "We wait until we have more information."

Her indifference grates on my nerves, but I swallow my irritation.

"And where will we be staying?" I demand, trying to regain some control.

"You'll be given quarters," she replies, a hint of amusement in her voice. "Do not sneak around. The CORPS and robots do not take lightly to it."

I brush off her taunt, focusing again on the commander. "What about weapons?"

He looks at me and I am pretty sure he has raised an eyebrow. "You are safe here. Your tools will be handed to you on a silver platter once you've earned our trust."

I fight the urge to scoff. Trust. As if any of them have done anything to earn mine.

Locking eyes with Dr. Rajbhar, I ask, "Why do the authorities want me?"

A shadows crosses her face. It's like she expected me to question but did not want it. She can go and fuck herself. The stunt she pulled, I am going to make sure she'll have nothing left once I am done with her.

"Because you're a valuable asset for their games, their experiments. Not all authorities have an interest in you, but the three who were recently appointed? They have been watching you closely. They know who you are and how you're connected to The Lab."

Even though I know the answer, I still ask her this question. Pretend, right? "How am I connected to The Lab?"

Dr. Rajbhar's lips curve, her eyes glinting with something dark. So instead of answering my question, she speaks her mind.

"The man you're hunting, Iris; The one who had you beneath his feet; He's the head of The Lab and is very much alive."