2025-06-03 23:44:16
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A Spark of Rebellion
The next morning didn’t arrive with sunlight.It arrived with screams.The blaring klaxon shattered whatever restless sleep I had managed to steal, and the lights snapped on in my pod—bright, white, merciless. The walls buzzed as the containment locks disengaged and the clamps around my limbs released with a hiss of pressure.> “REST CYCLE COMPLETE. LABOR RESUMES IN 20 MINUTES. ALL UNITS TO LINEUP.”My joints cracked as I sat up. My body felt like it had been dragged across molten steel, then stitched back together with barbed wire. Every muscle ached. My fingers—bandaged crudely by automated dispensers—still stung, the plasma burns fresh and angry. But I didn’t care about the pain.Not today.Because I had something more powerful than rest.I had a clue.That note from D… it wasn’t just hope—it was purpose. My mind kept replaying the words:> “The Eye beneath the Black Reactor.”I didn’t know what it meant yet—but I knew who might. Cynthia. If there was anyone in this place sharp eno
The Eye beneath the Black Reactor
The countdown ticked.00:14:59:37The first core in front of me looked deceptively simple—like a small sphere with wire ports and miniature magnetic channels. But as I picked up the tools and peeled open the outer casing, I realized this was alien tech reverse-engineered by SCID. Sharp filaments. Sensitive circuits. A steady hand was everything.Beside me, one of my group members—a tall, muscular guy with a shaved head—was already sweating. He dropped a filament. The moment it clinked on the steel table, red lights flared over his station.> “ERROR. STRIKE ONE.”A loud zap of electricity coursed through the clamps on his arms. He screamed. Then silence.I turned back to my core. Every nerve in me burned with tension. No powers. No alien reflexes. Just me. Just precision. I used the micro-spanner to rotate a glowing coil into place and inserted it carefully into the port.A green light blinked:Module 1: COMPLETE. 29 REMAINING.I exhaled.Two more from our group weren’t so lucky. One
Who Is D?
The Gauntlet was chaos incarnate.We were down to five members. Half of Group 1 already gone—mangled by blades, dissolved in sludge, crushed by pistons. Their screams still echoed in my head, but I shut it all out. I had to shut it out.I gripped the first flag so tightly that my knuckles turned white. My palms burned from the electrified base, but I didn’t let go. Ahead, I saw the next one—lodged in a rotating gear system with jagged teeth the size of my torso. I sprinted.“Move left! Jump now!” I shouted to the others.We dodged a mechanical ram that pulverized the floor behind us. I slid beneath a swinging pendulum blade and leapt onto a raised platform that buckled under my weight. Sparks erupted from the seams. One of my teammates tried to follow—too slow. The gear caught his leg and dragged him in. Bone snapped. He didn’t even scream—just vanished into the grinding metal.Four left.I reached the gear mechanism and studied the rotation. It moved in threes—three rotations, half a
The Labour System
The van’s relentless rumble slowed to a halt, and the sudden hiss of the hydraulic doors jolted me awake, though I was still groggy from the sedative. Rough hands yanked me to my feet, the metal shackles biting into my wrists and ankles, leaving deep, burning welts. Cynthia, barely conscious, was dragged beside me, her face pale and her eyes glazed.We were pulled out into a gray, steel-walled bay, where rows of heavily armed SCID soldiers stood at attention, forming a corridor toward a massive black gate. Overhead, blinding white lights beamed down, casting long, sharp shadows. The air was sterile and frigid, tinged with the faint scent of ozone and disinfectant.Ahead loomed the SCID prison, a colossal fortress unlike anything I had seen. The outer walls were titanium-alloy plated, reinforced with layers of invisible energy fields that shimmered faintly when struck by the occasional flicker of lightning from the stormy sky above. Towering watchtowers rose from each corner, manned by
WAY TO THE INESCAPABLE PRISON
I lay there, the cold floor pressing against my cheek, muscles trembling as if every nerve had been shattered and rewired. I could barely even twitch my fingers, the residual pain from the alien-disrupting sound still gnawing at my bones.Mr. White’s mocking voice echoed above me, every word dripping with venom.“Take him and begin the extraction,” he said to his soldiers.I felt rough hands grabbing my arms, hoisting me upright. My legs dangled beneath me, unable to support my weight. Cynthia was still slumped where they had left her, her head drooping, bound in the same way I had been.As I was dragged forward, my mind—though battered and dulled—raced furiously. I couldn’t let this happen. They would tear the alien from me, leaving me helpless, leaving Cynthia at their mercy.Doctor Trevor, standing near a sleek metal door, smirked as I was brought closer.“I was hoping you’d put up more of a fight,” he said smoothly, adjusting his glasses. “But I suppose that frequency was too much
NO ESCAPE
The numbing cold spread through my veins, but I gritted my teeth, focusing every fragment of my mind on resisting the drug’s pull. The alien inside me growled, Stay with me, John. You’re stronger than this.The sedative’s effect was heavy, making my muscles tremble with weakness. But my rage and stubbornness fueled me. I couldn’t let Blade hand us over without knowing who he was working for.That’s when I heard it—dozens of boots pounding against the metal floors, footsteps rushing in like a flood of violence. The door at the far end of the room slammed open, and through my blurred, barely focused vision, I saw them.SCID soldiers in full tactical gear, weapons drawn, helmets glinting in the low light. Their presence alone made my blood boil, but the sight of one figure, taller than the rest, with a predatory smirk, made my heart ice over.It was Mr. White.He moved through the mass of soldiers like a shark through a school of fish, exuding a casual, lethal confidence. His white suit
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