Sordida lauandi-XXXXV

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DATE:19th of June, the 70th year after the Coronation

LOCATION: Concord Metropolis

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The thick mist of disinfectant curled around my legs as I stepped forward, filling the sterile, clinical-smelling room. Emily's voice cut through the silence, her tone steady but concerned. "This isn't just any fog— it's a concentrated mix of antiseptics. Whoever designed this wanted absolute isolation from contaminants." Mr. Mallory obviously knows what is behind.

Rows of hazmat suits lined the shelves, each suit meticulously stored and seemingly untouched. I grabbed one, feeling the smooth, sealed fabric under my fingers. The heavy-duty design suggested this place had been prepared for something more than just a simple lab experiment.

With the suit on, I pressed against the door's metallic surface. It slid open with a soft hiss, revealing another room beyond—a sterile chamber, its walls lined with polished steel and glass cabinets containing various instruments. Harsh, clinical lighting illuminated a table in the center, surrounded by medical equipment that looked disturbingly sophisticated.

"This is beyond standard. It almost resembles a surgical suite... or worse," Emily remarked, her tone layered with suspicion. "Be on guard. There's no telling what they kept hidden down here."

The pristine lab felt surreal, like walking through a sterile vision of some otherworldly experiment. I scanned the rows of strange vials, their murky contents shifting under the harsh fluorescent lights. Emily's voice cut in, almost echoing in the dead silence. "These aren't standard lab materials, at least not for public research. High-grade chemicals, perhaps biological samples... whatever it is, it's tightly controlled."

I drifted toward the digital screens, recognizing some of the displayed sequences as DNA-like patterns, though far more complex than anything I'd seen before. Genetic research? Mutations? Whatever it was, the glowing lines and graphs seemed to form some cryptic code, incomprehensible to me.

The faint hum from the refrigerators drew my attention next, each one locked with an advanced keypad. I thought of trying to open one, but Emily quickly chimed in. "It's likely biometrically secured. And if they're storing samples, the substances might not react well to sudden changes. Proceed carefully."

Further in, a microscope screen showed an image that made me pause: cells writhing and expanding, like something alive and almost aggressive. Emily's tone sharpened. "These cells... they're... adapting? Growing beyond the norm. I can't confirm from here, but they're not behaving as human cells usually do." I didn't understand her entirely, but it left an unsettling weight in the air.

Then my gaze fell on the corkboard filled with diagrams and maps, labeled with scientific shorthand that twisted my brain just trying to parse it. Whatever this was, it was planned meticulously, coordinated on a level that wasn't easily explained. This lab was more than a workspace; it was a vault of controlled experiments, every element in its place, contained like a secret that I wasn't meant to see.

I wasn't surprised. The more I know about that clique of scientists Mundi was part of the worse it gets. At this point I wonder what kind of crimes even he is responsible of...

I took one of the many connectors I was provided out of my pocket, an Usb-B one I think and made the link for Alice to the keypad.

Guess biometrics mean nothing in the face of this AI.

As the lock clicked open, the door to the refrigerator slid back with a faint hiss. Inside, rows of glass canisters filled with a viscous, pale-blue liquid lined the shelves, each labeled with a cryptic series of numbers and codes that seemed more like military cataloging than scientific notation. Emily's voice whispered in a tense tone, "I've managed to access more of the encrypted files… this is a bio-weapon."

She paused, scanning through data faster than I could process. "From what I can decipher, it's engineered to target specific cellular receptors in human tissue. Once inhaled or introduced to the bloodstream, it spreads like a virus, binding to lung cells first. The chemical agents trigger a rapid chain reaction in the body's immune response, overstimulating it until it effectively starts attacking itself."

I felt a wave of confusion as she continued. "Victims experience a high fever, followed by respiratory distress as their lungs start breaking down. The final stages cause organ failure, with the body's systems shutting down one by one. It's designed to be highly contagious too… transferable through airborne particles, potentially spreading across entire populations within days."

The word "mass killing" had been a vague horror, but hearing it described in such chilling detail was something else. I stared at the rows of canisters, feeling their weight beyond the glass. This wasn't just science—it was a weapon designed to dismantle a person from the inside out, leaving no chance of survival once infected.

Emily's voice softened, but the concern was clear. "They've named it 'Lotus'—coded language in the files suggests it's intended for 'controlled population reduction' in densely populated areas."

It was one thing to know what I was looking at, and another entirely to understand the true purpose behind it.

Thinking about what the professor said it made sense. The reason Concord has no police or army is because of his large populace, something the unified monarchy thinks it can't hold back.

But would the scientists really work for them? Seems a bit overboard for people that don't appreciate their genius.

It is well known that the unified Monarchy, at least under the current king, hates technological advancements. They welcomed the discovery of Ventium, but that is more biology than technology, and even then it is a rare resource.

Concord is the exception because of their lack of influence there...

With this genius scientists really help those people? This is in the first place thinking that they are still working together, but Mundi and Secundo Manus hate each other, and the neither of them seems to be on good terms with Biz. The doctor with the time research got erased by her own experiment and the mysterious inventor who made Emily disappeared by his own hand. This only leaves Dr. Mallory, the expert in diseases.

Such irony that he is working to overcome any treatment he made or will make...

Even stranger was he and Alice weren't here in his underground lab. Where the hell are they?

I left the lab, shrugging off any lingering thoughts about what I'd seen. None of it mattered to me, not really. Alice and her father weren't here, so I headed back to the entrance and shrugged off the hazmat suit. As I climbed the stairs, I pulled out my phone and asked Emily if we'd covered the entire mansion.

She responded, reminding me of a few rooms we hadn't checked yet—most notably, Dr. Mallory's office. I sighed, annoyed with myself for missing something so obvious.

Just as I emerged from the stairwell, the housekeeper appeared at the far end of the hall. She froze the instant she saw me, her face draining of color.

I guess I wasn't supposed to be there. Who knew? Before I say anything, she starts to run away.

I am surprised because even in those tight jeans she was faster than me. But she doesn't have an AI on her side. It's good that I scouted the area beforehand.

Emily's voice echoed in my ear, guiding me as I sprinted through the hallways. "Turn left at the next junction… there's a shortcut through the gallery," she said, calmly mapping out a faster path to intercept the housekeeper. I pivoted on my heel, ignoring the dust in the rarely used corridor and the quiet portraits lining the walls with their haunting gazes.

"She's heading toward the rear staircase," Emily updated me as I closed the gap. The housekeeper was quick, darting around corners and through passages as though she knew every inch of the mansion by heart. But her panic made her movements erratic, giving me the edge as Emily's directions guided me with precision.

I finally spotted her at the end of a narrow hall, glancing back just as she realized I was still on her trail. She hesitated, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and something else—was it anger, or perhaps terror at what I might know?

She turned to flee again, but I cut off her escape, stepping forward deliberately, trapping her in place.

She lunges at me, her knuckles tightening as she moves in a fluid, controlled stance. I brace myself, but she's quicker than I anticipated. She fires a low Muay Thai roundhouse kick at my thigh, her shin striking like a hammer. I shift to absorb the blow, but her power forces me back a step. Before I can respond, she's already resetting, circling with eyes like daggers.

I reach to grab her arm, aiming to pull her off balance, but she counters instantly, whipping her knee up in a sharp strike to my ribs. The hit is precise, meant to weaken my core. She pivots her weight on her back leg, then twists into a high kick toward my head. I duck, feeling the rush of air as her foot slices just above.

Desperate to gain control, I move closer, hoping to force her into a grapple. But she uses her elbow as a barrier, wedging it between us and wrenching free. Her heel rises again, and this time I'm barely able to deflect her blow by blocking with my forearm. Her movements are relentless, trained, each attack flowing into the next with deadly efficiency.

Finally, I manage to catch her leg mid-kick, twisting it to unbalance her. She stumbles but retaliates instantly, aiming a sharp knee toward my torso. I release her leg and step back, aware she won't let up until she's either down or victorious.

I curse myself for not having grabbed a weapon earlier, but I know my strength alone might be enough here. Despite her skill, I outweigh her significantly, and if I can close the gap fast enough, she won't be able to counter.

I rush forward, catching her off guard, my hand closing around her neck. She tries to resist, her body twisting as she attempts to break my hold, but in a direct clash of strength, her strikes falter. Her hands claw at my grip, but I tighten my hold, squeezing until her movements weaken. Her resistance fades as she loses consciousness, and I finally release her, letting her slump to the floor.

I step into a nearby room, quickly spotting a large table with a thick cover. In one swift motion, I yank it off, ripping the fabric into four long strips. I've done this before—basic protocol in case you don't have specialized restraints on hand.

I start by knotting one strip tightly around her wrists, securing her hands behind her back. Next, I bind her ankles with the second strip, ensuring she won't be able to kick or run. I tie the third around her mouth, muffling any attempts to shout or call for help. Finally, I use the last strip to secure her arms to her sides, limiting her ability to struggle.

Once she's bound, I hoist her onto my back like a sack of potatoes, adjusting her weight as I head in the direction of Dr. Mallory's office. I vaguely remember the layout from when I entered the hidden basement—somewhere near the bookshelf that led to the underground lab.

Carrying someone like this feels strange, a bit like slipping into an old habit I thought I'd left behind. But this isn't exactly a typical mission, and she's definitely no innocent bystander. She must know something about what's hidden in the basement; her reaction when she saw me made that obvious.

Whatever her involvement is, she has to answer for it. Whether she'll talk or just keep her lips sealed out of loyalty to Mallory, I'll find out soon enough.

Dr. Mallory remains seated at his desk, barely acknowledging my entrance. His gaze lifts from some papers, and he offers a slight, unreadable smile.

"Did you enjoy my wife's gallery?" he asks casually, as if this were a routine conversation.

I hold his gaze, cold and steady. Without a word, I drop the unconscious housekeeper onto the floor, her bound form landing heavily. His reaction is... nothing. He doesn't even flinch, his expression entirely calm, as though seeing his servant bound and unconscious were just another part of his day.

I pull up a chair across from him, uninvited, and sit down, leaning in with a glare. "Cut the nonsense, Lucas. We both know what's hidden in your basement."

His eyes flicker ever so slightly, just enough to reveal he's taken aback, but he quickly covers it, folding his hands together. "I'd be careful making accusations like that," he replies, his voice smooth but his tone sharp.

"Oh, don't bother with the smug act." I keep my voice low and dangerous. "You can try to play it cool, but don't pretend you're unfazed by someone walking in here, past your 'secret entrance,' finding everything you've got going on down there."

For a moment, his confidence seems to waver, a shadow of doubt crossing his face, but he recovers quickly. He leans back, eyeing me with an air of forced calm. "So, you've seen my work. You're in rare company, then," he says, sounding almost amused. "Few get that opportunity."

I don't break my stare. "Opportunity? What you've got down there isn't some stroke of genius. That lab is filled with horrors, and you're calling it 'progress.' Do you have any idea what that bioweapon of yours could do?"

A faint smile curls at his lips, as though he finds my outrage quaint. "And yet, you're here. You must realize that the benefits outweigh your... concerns."

My patience snaps. "Benefits? And what about the lives this 'progress' would destroy? You're playing with fire, Lucas, and don't even pretend you have any control over it."

He holds my gaze, his eyes narrowing, betraying a glint of defiance. "Some truths aren't ready for the world yet. But make no mistake—when they are, they will change everything."

I glance down at the housekeeper, still unconscious on the floor. "If it's all so justified, why the secrecy? Why have people like her guarding your secrets if you're so certain of this noble 'purpose' of yours?"

He pauses, and for the first time, his expression shifts. I see a hint of strain, a glimpse of the cost it takes to keep up this charade. "Not everyone would understand what it takes to protect humanity," he finally says, his voice low.

"And Alice?" I press, leaning in. "Does she know what her own father is capable of?"

His expression turns colder, a flash of something dangerous in his eyes. "Alice has her own role to play," he says, his voice edged with finality. "And that is none of your concern."

" It kind of is"

He scoffs, dismissive.

"Don't you get that what you're doing is exactly like Secundo Manus and Biz?" I press, my tone sharp.

"Don't compare me to those barbarians. I haven't hurt anyone," he snaps, his voice full of disdain.

"Yet," I retort. "Tell me, what do you plan to do with that bioweapon, then?"

He pauses, his gaze unwavering. "I will use it against the dangers of the world," he says, as if it's the most obvious answer. His voice takes on a fervor, like he's trying to convince both of us. "You can't imagine what's out there, what lengths one must go to... The threats we face are too vast, too insidious for half-measures."

"And who gets to decide what qualifies as a 'threat'? You?" I shake my head, disgust creeping into my voice. "You talk about 'protecting humanity,' but you don't even see the hypocrisy. It's the same mindset that destroyed Secundo, that twisted Biz—thinking the ends will justify any means."

His jaw tightens, a flicker of anger in his eyes. "They were reckless. This is different," he insists. "My research, my methods—everything is controlled. There's purpose, reason."

I lean forward, not breaking eye contact. "Control? Reason?" I repeat, almost laughing. "You're walking the same path they did, Lucas. And just like them, you're blind to where it leads."

I rise from my seat, a bitter smile twisting onto my face as the pieces fall into place.

A chuckle escapes me, sharp and cold. "You can't control it, can you?" I say, my eyes narrowing as I study him. "This thing you're creating—it'll kill indiscriminately, won't it? You don't have any way to spare those you claim to be protecting."

For a moment, Lucas's confident mask slips, his jaw tightening.

"You don't know what you're talking about," he says, but there's a crack in his voice. He's bluffing, and he knows I can see it.

"Oh, I think I do," I shoot back, my tone slicing through the silence. "You're playing god with something beyond your grasp. This 'bioweapon' of yours? It's a ticking bomb, Lucas. No amount of excuses will change that—this thing will kill without mercy, without any regard for your so-called cause."

I see his fists clench on the desk, his gaze hardening, but he says nothing. Just stands there, pinned by my words. And for once, he has nothing to say back.

I lean in, my voice dripping with mockery. "I wonder what Alice will say when she hears about this little project of yours."

His face drains of color. "Don't you dare," he growls, his voice shaky but laced with venom.

I laugh, the sound cold and biting. "Fuck you, old man. I'm not here to keep your dirty secrets." I take a step back, staring him down. "Be grateful I didn't put an end to this myself, or to you, for that matter. Because this—" I gesture toward the basement door, "—this crime of yours is worth a lot more than just a few words."

He opens his mouth to speak, but I'm already heading for the door, leaving him to face the weight of his own twisted ambitions.

Outside the office, I pull out the phone, frustration simmering under my breath. "Emily, I don't care how—just find Alice."

Her voice comes through, stuttering a bit, "Um… I-I just checked her GPS, and… she should be… right above us?" She pauses, processing the new data. "Wait, actually… it's moving. Downwards?"

I close my eyes and groan, facepalming hard. "She's been flying above the mansion this whole time…" A hint of irritation spikes in my tone. "It was useless to search around here, wasn't it?"

Still, as I look around at this basement full of secrets, I can't deny that I stumbled onto something far worse. "Emily, make her phone vibrate or something. Get her attention."

"You want me to… break in?" Her voice has a slight edge of excitement.

I roll my eyes. "Oh, come on, I'm sure you've already cracked that door open."

Emily gives a soft, almost bashful tone in response, "Maybe… just a little…" It's amusing, though I can only pick up on the hint of her blush through her voice.

Alice's brows knit together as I start recounting everything: the hidden lab, the bio-weapon research, the antiseptic mist. I leave nothing out, laying out each twisted detail without a trace of hesitation. I tell her how her father scoffed when I confronted him, how he tried to justify his work as some "necessary precaution."

Her face shifts from confusion to horror as I continue. The expression in her eyes hardens, but there's also a glimmer of pain, betrayal mingled with disbelief. Her mouth opens as if to interrupt, then closes as she absorbs it all, her hands balling into fists at her sides.

When I finish, she stands silent for a moment, almost too still, staring past me. It's as if she's trying to reconcile the image she's held of her father with what I've just described. Finally, her voice comes out barely above a whisper. "I... I had no idea."

I place a hand on her shoulder, offering a quiet reassurance, but she shakes her head fiercely. "No, it's not alright," she snaps, voice trembling with anger and pain. Before I can say another word, she spins on her heel and heads straight for her father's office.

I follow closely, stopping just outside the door and keeping it ajar to hear their exchange.

Alice storms in, her face set with fury. "I can't believe you had me helping with those flying sensors—while you were planning this," she says, her voice low but seething.

Dr. Mallory starts to respond, "Alice, it's not that simple, you have to understand—"

"Understand?" she cuts him off sharply. "All my life, you've been obsessed with your experiments. I was one of them, wasn't I? A project just like this one."

He shakes his head, almost pleading. "Alice, that's not true. I love you and your mother—"

"Lies." Her voice is bitter, cutting through his words. "You care more about your research than about us." Her gaze is a mixture of heartbreak and defiance as she turns and walks out, brushing past me without a word.

I don't follow her immediately, letting the silence of the room settle around Dr. Mallory's stunned expression. Did he feel sorry in any way? Maybe. I'm not sure.

I catch up to Alice, and she only says, "We're leaving." Her voice is flat, resigned, with none of her usual spark.

She heads upstairs to her room, quickly gathering a few things and changing clothes, then signals for me to follow her back to the car. There's an urgency in her movements, but the weight of what just happened hangs over her, dulling her usual energy.

As we drive back, silence fills the car. Alice drives much slower than usual, the road passing by in a blur. She's somewhere else, lost in her own thoughts, too drained to even care about speeding like she usually does. For once, I can tell, the thrill of the drive holds no appeal for her.

Back at Alice's apartment, she barely says a word before disappearing into the bedroom, muttering something about being "tired." I watch the door close and hear the soft click of the lock. She's shut herself away, wanting to be alone with her thoughts. I don't press her; I know well enough that it's useless right now.

Instead, I settle in on the couch in the living room, pulling up the decrypted files Emily provided. As I scroll through, I find myself piecing together more of Dr. Mallory's connections. He technically works under Matthew, or at least under his pharmaceutical company, but this particular project wasn't documented or shared up the chain. It was off the books—maybe even hidden from Matthew himself.

But then, Matthew is exactly the type of person who might take an opportunity like this virus and use it as a weapon, if he knew. Or maybe Dr. Mallory kept it private precisely to avoid the kind of attention that could end up with it in someone else's hands. Either way, this was a bio-weapon that shouldn't exist.

And this is without mentioning his wife. His pedophilia was unexcusable. Perhaps this is even the reason he works under Matthew and not for his own company. This kind of info would be very easy for any reporter to piece together.

What the hell was that about, seeing me in a dream? I needed to confront her about it another time.

At some point I realized that crying would do no good for Alice.

I went to the door, telling her to open it.

I only get a passive dismissal.

Right... I go to her computer desk and take out some paperclips before starting to lockpick the door.

It took me a while, but it eventually slides open.

Looking inside, Alice had wrapped herself in a roll with the blanket.

She said to "go away" between the tears.

I seated myself on the empty side of the bed.

"It's ok Alice." My tone was straight. This wasn't some kind of pity.

"No, it's not..." Alice was completely covered by the blanket. So annoying.

I take it by the side and pull, unwrapping her to the other side of the bed.

"You are a grown woman Alice, there is no need for this."

Her face was wet from the tears and the little moons were faded.

"Tell me what is on your mind."

"I just... Back when I left that lab... Permanently... Father promised to leave this whole thing behind. To be a doctor who helps people for once."

She grabs my arm, her grip loose.

" I can't believe he instead focused on that."

" We can't know that." I actually do. He did start on that project right after stopping the experiments on her.

It doesn't seem like she believed me, but at least the gesture was appreciated.

I started drying her face with my shirt.

"We will deal with you father. First we have to take down Secundo Manus."

"Y-yes. You're right..."

We spent the rest of the night cuddling, but I could help but think about that statue.

It's not normal. Sure, her father making a bio-weapon was a surprise, but not out of the ordinary. As a Bio-engineer there aren't many subjects to use his expertise on.

Wait, what even is this about? Bio-engineers make prosthetics, kind of like Biz.

Vaccines have nothing to do with it. Neither do bio-weapons...

I fear something much darker-