2025-06-11 00:26:23
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ALIEN INVASION
We stepped into silence. Not the kind that’s peaceful. The kind that presses on your skin like water at the bottom of an ocean. Thick. Crippling. Alive. The door behind us sealed shut with a hiss like a dying breath.Ahead, a vast tunnel stretched into infinity—lit only by the slow pulse of crimson veins running along the walls. The structure wasn’t built. It was grown. A blend of flesh and machine, of neural fiber and steel bone. A mind made into a place.Cynthia muttered, “Feels like we’re walking into something’s brain.”“You’re not wrong,” I said, my voice low.And then the whispering began.Voices. Hundreds. All White. All wrong.Failure…They said he was unstoppable…But he bleeds like the rest…Break him. Take her. Burn them.“Don’t listen,” I said, pushing forward.We moved deeper. The air changed. Grew warmer. Wetter. We passed what looked like nerve bundles strung like vines from the ceiling. Each one twitched as we passed. They remembered us.And then—the hallucinations.
THE CORTEX ROOT
My fist tore through White’s stomach like paper soaked in acid, blackened claws ripping flesh and wire alike. His blood wasn’t red—it was silver, laced with liquid circuitry that hissed and sparked as it hit the floor. He didn’t scream. He smiled.“You’re predictable,” he whispered.Then the room exploded.The wall behind him vaporized, revealing a hidden arsenal chamber lined with pods—dozens of them. No—hundreds. They hissed open in rapid sequence, steam flooding the chamber as the horrors within emerged.Bots. Mutants. Hybrids. All of them armed. All of them ready.Some were sleek, spider-limbed machines with eyes like searchlights and spinning saws for hands. Others were stitched-together nightmares—mutants grafted with mech-armor, neural spikes running straight into their spines, eyes glowing like dying suns. One let out a shriek that shattered the lights overhead, its tongue a writhing chain of bone and blades.Cynthia stumbled beside me, blood pouring from a wound in her side,
BATTLE AGAINST MR WHITE
The days passed like ghosts.Inside the frozen bunker, Cynthia and I trained, planned, studied every scrap of intel we could find. But the deeper we dug, the more I realized something:This wasn’t just a revenge mission.This was a suicide run.Because Mr. White… wasn’t just a man.He was a god of information. A mutant whose power wasn’t strength or speed or fire. It was thought. Pure, unfiltered thought—weaponized and unbound. A mind sharpened to surgical precision, fed by networks, satellites, neural implants, a thousand blacksite feeds all wired into his consciousness.He didn’t fight with claws.He fought with inevitability.“White doesn’t lose,” I muttered one night, staring at a map riddled with red markers—SCID strongholds, supply lines, surveillance towers. “He anticipates. He models every variable. We don’t surprise him. We don’t outsmart him. Every path we take—he’s already seen it.”Cynthia leaned against the wall, her arms crossed, eyes narrowed. “Then we make a move he ca
Gods can Bleed
Smoke spiraled through the blood-soaked air, rising like spirits fleeing the battlefield.I turned slowly, my chest heaving. Corpses carpeted the yard—SCID agents torn in half, mutants shredded into wet heaps of twisted flesh, their limbs bent at impossible angles. The scent of burning flesh mingled with cordite and metal. Flames licked the shattered concrete, and the air was heavy with the thunder of distant alarms.Cynthia stepped beside me, her face streaked with blood, hair damp with sweat. She stared at the carnage around us, then at me. Her voice was low, breathless with awe and terror."That was… inhuman."I didn’t answer. I was already looking upward.The main prison tower loomed above us like a vulture’s perch, lined with reinforced steel, surveillance nodes blinking. I could feel Mr. White watching—his breath probably caught in his throat, fingers frozen over whatever kill-switch he thought would save him. He knew now. The alien was back. I was whole again.And I was unstopp
I AM COMING FOR YOU
The alarms were no longer blaring. They were screaming—panicked, desperate, useless. Red lights bathed the corridors in the color of death as I moved like a shadow from hell, fused again with the alien entity—stronger, darker, and more monstrous than ever before.My hands were not hands anymore—they were instruments of annihilation.The first SCID mutant I met was barely able to raise his weapon. I grabbed his face and drove his skull into the wall with such force the concrete cratered. His helmet cracked like an egg, his brain matter spattering out in a grotesque bloom.A scream tore the air behind me. I turned, eyes glowing like furnaces. Three guards rushed forward, tasers buzzing and boots thundering—but they didn’t know who I was anymore. I leapt forward, faster than thought.“You’re all dead men!” I roared as I impaled the first one with my hand through his stomach, lifted him off the ground and ripped him in half. The wet sound of muscle and organs tearing apart was drowned onl
Fuse With The Alien
The note stayed hot in my hand, even after the words faded. Every sentence stuck in my mind like it had been burned there. I folded the paper carefully and hid it under my mattress, where the cameras wouldn’t find it.I sat still, listening to the hum of the pod. The sound of boots echoing through the prison halls. The hiss of the vent. The metallic rasp of my own breath.My heartbeat was the loudest thing in the room.I wasn’t really alone anymore.The alien was still alive. I could feel it. Not in my head. Not as a voice. But as pressure, like something huge pressing down on me. Like standing too close to a reactor. Like space twisting in on itself.It was down there. Under the floor. Beneath the prison.Under SCID.And then I remembered D’s words, like a voice in my head:“Get to the alien and fuse again with it.”I clenched my fists. They were shaking.I was terrified of joining with the alien again. But the thought of never getting out pf this prison scared me more. I needed Cyn
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