2025-05-27 23:58:55
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Fire and Ice
The elevator groaned as it carried them upward through layers of steel and stone, away from the Winter Citadel’s core. Julius kept one arm around Aurelia, steadying her frail frame as the world moved beneath their feet. Her breathing was slow, steady—but her eyes remained distant, locked somewhere between recognition and disbelief.She hadn’t said his name. In fact, she hadn't called him anything at all.The woman who once roared at a council to protect her child now stared at him like he was a shadow.Julius studied her features in the dim light of the lift—every line, every scar carved by decades of isolation. Her eyes still held that ferocity, but there was something fractured behind them now, something that hadn’t been there in the archive videos.The elevator clanked to a stop.They moved into a narrow corridor cut through rock, leading to an extraction point near the north ridge. Outside, the storm howled against the stone, but here it was still, cold, silent. They paused beneat
The Revenant Directive
The cold hit harder at altitude. Wind howled down the narrow spine of the Swiss Alps, slicing through thermal layers and making every breath feel like inhaling knives. Julius crouched behind a jagged outcrop of ice, scanning the tree line below through frost-glazed binoculars.“They’re tracking movement patterns, not signals,” Miley whispered beside him, her breath forming clouds that vanished instantly. “No drones. They’re using old-school predator logic.”He lowered the binoculars. “Because they’ve hunted something like me before.”From the valley floor, a ripple of radio static crackled. Julius adjusted his earpiece, narrowing the signal. The voice came through—a clipped male tone, cold and practiced.“Visual lost. Possible deviation west ridge. Reconfirm target: Lily’s Fang is alive. Authorization: Revenant Omega.”Miley’s head snapped toward him. “They just named you.”Julius didn’t move. “Lily’s Fang,” he echoed. “They’ve been waiting.”The Revenants—whispers of them had surface
The Awakening Protocol
Julius was sweating through his shirt by the time he hit the tree line. The morning frost cracked beneath his boots, but he didn’t feel cold—he felt electric, fevered. Every nerve was a live wire.He gripped his knees, breath ragged.Behind him, the safehouse lights flickered in the dawn fog. Miley was still inside, but he’d needed space. Or maybe distance. He didn’t know which.The headaches had started three days ago. Now they came with aftershocks—flashes of memory that weren’t memories. Training modules. Surgical tools. Blood pooled beneath steel.And voices.“Breathe, soldier.”“Subject’s vitals are spiking.”“Activate the cranial suppressor.”He blinked hard, trying to anchor himself to the now. But the tree trunk he leaned against dissolved into silver walls. His own hands looked younger, strapped down.Not real, he told himself. Not now.Then pain cracked through his skull like lightning.Julius dropped to one knee with a growl, palms clawing at the frostbitten earth. His visi
Blood That Burns
The lab’s lights buzzed overhead as Julius stared at the DNA scan flickering on the portable holo-screen. There was no room left for doubt.“Genetic match: 99.98% identity to Subject 17 – Aurelia Vire.”Underneath, in cold blue type: Origin: Clone Protocol // Directive: Replacement Asset.Julius shut the screen with a sharp snap, like the sound of a verdict slamming down.Miley stood across from him, still holding the medscanner that had confirmed it. Her mouth parted, but no words came out—not yet. Not while Julius stood so still.“She’s not her,” he said. Not a question. A statement. A warning.“No,” Miley agreed. “But she was made to be.”Julius’s gaze drifted to the cryo-pod now thawed and silent. The clone had been moved to a recovery cot beside the lab’s control desk, surrounded by diagnostic cables and low hums of automated care.Then she stirred.The clone’s eyes flew open—pale and sharp, but unfocused. Her breaths came fast, shallow. She jerked upright, fighting the cords, fi
The Missing Eight Minutes
The apartment was dark, curtains drawn tight, the only light coming from the flickering TV in the corner—set permanently to static. Dr. Halvorsen hadn’t opened the door so much as unlatched it and retreated into the shadows. Julius and Miley stepped inside without invitation, closing it gently behind them.The smell of bleach clung to every surface, but it couldn’t mask the undercurrent of mildew and old fear.Dr. Halvorsen hovered by the far wall, a skeletal figure with yellowed hair and trembling fingers. His eyes never stopped moving. Not toward them—but toward the windows, the vents, the shadows under furniture.“You said you had information,” Julius said quietly.The old man nodded, jerky and fast. “You… you look like her,” he whispered. “Your eyes. Same stubborn fire.”Miley stepped beside Julius, her gaze sharp. “Aurelia Vire. Subject 17. Tell us everything.”Halvorsen flinched at the name, as if it summoned ghosts. “We were told she died during labor. That’s what the records s
Frostbitten Files
The blizzard had buried most of the old winter outpost beneath meters of snow and silence. What remained above ground was skeletal—crumbling guard towers, half-eaten signage, and the faint silhouette of a barbed fence line twisted by decades of ice storms. The entry hatch to the medical bunker was frozen over, its edges rimmed with white crystals sharp as razors.Julius exhaled once and drove his shoulder into the lever. Metal screamed. The door gave way with a shudder, and stale air escaped like a breath trapped for twenty years.Miley stepped in behind him, flashlight beam cutting across the gloom. The corridor yawned before them—a narrow spine of rusted walls and frostbitten conduits. The bunker had been built for function, not comfort. Every pipe, every vent, every bolt was part of something clinical. Calculated.The smell was faint but sharp—chemical antiseptic layered under rot and time.“Place gives me the creeps,” Miley muttered.Julius said nothing. He pressed on.They passed
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