THE DEATH MIND SYSTEM

Safe Zone

Elliot’s sneakers scraped against the cracked pavement as he moved through Crestwood’s quiet streets, the neon glow of the motel sign flickering in the distance. The town was settling into evening, shops closing, streetlights buzzing to life. Every shadow felt like a threat, every passerby a potential Veil operative. Name Sight tagged them all. The glowing names hovered like accusations, each one a reminder of the system’s power and its unrelenting hunger. "Level 4 protocol available with two additional terminations." The words echoed in his mind, a siren call he was trying desperately to ignore.

The motel was a rundown relic, its faded sign reading “Crestwood Inn” in peeling letters. Elliot slipped inside, keeping his hoodie up to hide the bruise on his jaw. The clerk, a bored-looking man tagged Gregory Paul Evans, barely glanced at him as he handed over a key in exchange for crumpled bills from Elliot’s wallet. Room 12, second floor. It wasn’t much, but it was a place to breathe, to think, to figure out his next move.

Inside the room, the air smelled of stale cigarettes and cheap air freshener. Elliot locked the door, wedged a chair under the handle for good measure, and dropped his backpack on the sagging bed. The system’s hum was quieter now, but its presence lingered, a cold weight in his skull. He pulled out Voss’s device, turning it over in his hands. Its surface was smooth, almost warm, the faint etchings glowing slightly under the motel’s dim lamp. It didn’t look like anything human-made; no ports, no buttons, just those strange, intricate patterns that seemed to shift when he stared too long.

“What are you?” he muttered, half to himself, half to the system.

"QUERY RECEIVED," the system responded instead. "DEVICE ANALYSIS INCOMPLETE. PRELIMINARY SCAN SUGGESTS EXTRATERRESTRIAL ORIGIN, COMPATIBLE WITH ANNIHILATOR TECHNOLOGY. FURTHER DATA RESTRICTED UNTIL LEVEL 5.

Elliot’s stomach twisted. The system just said this device was an Annihilator technology. The same entity the system claimed to be a fragment of. If the Veil was using tech tied to the Annihilator, they weren’t just some shadowy government group; they were dealing with the same alien force that had infected him. But why? Were they trying to control it, destroy it, or something else entirely?

He set the device on the bed, his hands shaking. The memory of Voss’s death flashed in his mind; her body crumpling, the glowing letters of her name fading as her life did. Then Bryce, chosen in a moment of panic to unlock Name Sight. Each kill had been a step deeper into the system’s grip, and Neural Pulse, while non-lethal, had only delayed the inevitable. The system wanted more, and its promise of Level 4 protocols; enhanced capabilities, was a temptation he couldn’t fully shake.

He pulled out his phone, the screen lighting up with more campus alerts. The latest was stark: Campus lockdown initiated. Unidentified female found deceased in wooded area. Students advised to remain in dorms. The Veil was moving fast, covering their tracks or spinning a narrative to keep the public in the dark. Nathaniel James Cole, the operative he’d knocked out with Neural Pulse, would’ve woken by now. If he was with the Veil, he’d report back, and they’d tighten the net around Crestwood.

Elliot’s thoughts drifted to the diner, to the moment he’d used Neural Pulse. The rush had been different from termination; cleaner, less final, but no less powerful. It had worked exactly as the system promised, dropping Nathaniel without a drop of blood. But the ease of it scared him. The system was making it too simple to lean into its power, to rely on it. And every time he did, it felt like he was losing a piece of himself.

A faint noise outside snapped him out of his thoughts: a low hum, like an engine idling, followed by the crunch of gravel. He froze, his heart racing, and crept to the window, pulling the curtain aside just enough to peek out. A black SUV was parked across the street, its tinted windows reflecting the motel’s neon sign. Two figures stepped out, their names glowing above their heads: Lila Marie Chen and Marcus Alan Reed. Both wore dark coats, their movements precise, like Voss’s had been. They were Veil operatives, no question.

The system voice immediately echoed in Eliot's head. "Threats detected. Names acquired: Lila Marie Chen, Marcus Alan Reed. Protocols available: Terminate, Neural Pulse. Recommendation: Neutralize to ensure host safety."

Elliot’s breath caught. The system’s hum surged, a tingling sensation spreading through his skull. He could end them both right now: two whispers, two bodies down. Or he could use Neural Pulse again, knock them out and run. But where? The Veil was everywhere, and Crestwood was too small to hide in for long. He needed a plan, not just a reaction.

He backed away from the window, his mind racing. The device on the bed was his only lead, but he didn’t know how to use it or what it did. The system’s cryptic answers weren’t enough, and its constant push for termination was a trap he couldn’t afford to fall into again. But as he glanced at the SUV outside, he realized he might not have a choice. The Veil wasn’t going to stop, and the system wasn’t going to let him stay still.

His thoughts flashed back to Bryce, to the moment he’d chosen him. It had been so easy... too easy. Bryce’s name had come to him in a surge of anger, fueled by years of torment and the system’s promise of power. Killing him had unlocked Name Sight, which had let him stop Voss. Now, with two new operatives closing in, he wondered if he’d have to make another choice like that. Dylan James Reed popped into his mind; Bryce’s friend, another bully from the alley. His name was already known, a loaded gun ready to fire. But the thought of killing again, of feeding the system’s hunger, made his skin crawl.

The system’s voice broke through, cold and insistent. "Host inaction increases exposure risk. Neural Pulse cooldown: Complete. Recommendation: Neutralize threats Lila Marie Chen and Marcus Alan Reed. Then relocate immediately."

Elliot’s hands clenched, his eyes darting to the device on the bed. He could try to use it, but without knowing how, it was a gamble. Neural Pulse was his best bet; non-lethal, quick, and proven to work. He focused on the two operatives outside, their names glowing through the curtain. Visualizing the pulse, he felt the system’s energy surge again, a tingling wave that made his vision sharpen. He activated Neural Pulse, and the air rippled.

Through the curtain’s gap, he saw Lila and Marcus stumble, clutching their heads before collapsing to the gravel. The SUV’s lights flickered, then went dark.

The system’s voice confirmed: "Neural Pulse successful. Targets incapacitated. Cooldown initiated: 60 seconds."

Elliot didn’t wait. He grabbed the device, stuffed it into his backpack, and slipped out the motel room’s back window, dropping into the alley behind. The night was cold, the town quiet, but the glowing names of strangers followed him, a constant reminder of the power he carried, and the danger it brought. The Veil was closing in, and the system was pushing him toward a breaking point.

The night was too quiet, an unnatural stillness that pressed against Elliot’s ears like a held breath. The only sound was the distant wail of police sirens, their eerie echo cutting through Crestwood’s empty streets. He crouched in the alley behind the motel, his backpack slung over one shoulder.

The sirens were closer now, their pitch rising and falling, a warning that the town was waking to the chaos he’d left behind. If the police spotted him, a lone figure skulking through the streets, they’d stop him, question him, and one look at his bruised face would unravel everything. He was the only person out here, a solitary shadow in a town that felt like it was holding its breath, waiting for him to make a mistake.

Elliot’s heart pounded, his breath fogging in the cold air. He had nowhere to go. The motel was compromised, the woods too exposed, and campus was crawling with cops and, likely, more Veil operatives. He needed a place to hide, to think, to figure out what Voss’s device was and how to stay one step ahead. But every option felt like a trap, and the system’s hum in his mind was a constant pressure, urging him to act. Host exposure risk: Critical. Relocation required immediately.

He pressed himself against the alley wall, the rough brick cold against his back. “Okay,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “You’re so eager to help; tell me where to go. What’s the safest place for me tonight?”

The system’s response was immediate, its cold, mechanical tone cutting through the night. "Query received. Analyzing environmental data. Scanning for low-threat zones within accessible range. Processing…"

Elliot’s vision flickered, a faint overlay appearing like a heads-up display. Lines of text scrolled across his field of view, overlaid with a map of Crestwood and its surroundings. The system was interfacing directly with his perception, a seamless blend of alien tech and his own mind. The map zoomed in, highlighting streets, buildings, and wooded areas, each tagged with threat levels in glowing red and green.

The motel pulsed red, which meant High Threat: Veil Operative Proximity. The woods were orange, which meant Moderate Threat: Police Patrols. Then, to his surprise, a green dot appeared, centered on Crestwood University’s campus, specifically the freshman dorms. A single building glowed brighter than the rest, tagged with a name: Mia Elizabeth Carver’s Dormitory. Threat Level: Low. Recommended Safe Zone.

Elliot’s stomach twisted. Mia’s dorm? The system had to be joking. Going back to campus, where police were swarming and the Veil was likely watching, was suicide. And Mia… her worried face flashed in his mind, her apology in his dorm room, the guilt he’d seen in Tanner’s final memory. She’d been kind, or at least tried to be, but she was tied to Tanner, to Bryce, to the whole mess that had started this. Showing up at her door, bruised and on the run, would raise questions he couldn’t answer. Worse, her name was already in the system’s grasp, a loaded gun he didn’t trust himself to hold.

"SAFE ZONE RATIONALE: LOW POPULATION DENSITY IN TARGET DORMITORY.

MINIMAL VEIL ACTIVITY DETECTED.

MIA ELIZABETH CARVER ASSESSED AS LOW THREAT. ACCESS TO RESOURCES AND CONCEALMENT VIABLE.

RECOMMENDATION: RELOCATE TO DESIGNATED SAFE ZONE."

Elliot shook his head, his hands clenching into fists. “You’re insane,” he muttered. “Campus is the last place I should go. The police are everywhere, and the Veil knows I’m tied to Tanner and Bryce.”

The system responded immediately. "Counterpoint: Campus lockdown increases police presence but restricts civilian movement. Mia Elizabeth Carver’s dormitory offers temporary concealment. Neural Pulse available for non-lethal neutralization of threats. Override probability: 7%."

The sirens grew louder, their wail bouncing off the buildings, closer now. Elliot ducked deeper into the alley, his heart racing. The system was right about one thing: staying here wasn’t an option. The police would sweep the town, and a lone figure on the empty streets would be a magnet for suspicion. He had no car, no cash for a bus, and nowhere else to hide. The woods might buy him time, but he’d be exposed, cold, and without resources. Mia’s dorm, as insane as it sounded, was a place to blend in, to disappear among students who were too distracted by the lockdown to notice him. And Mia… she’d checked on him, hadn’t she? Maybe she wouldn’t turn him away.

He thought about it, his mind a tug-of-war between fear and pragmatism. Going to Mia was a risk because she might ask questions, connect him to Tanner’s death, or worse, to Bryce’s. But the system’s map was clear: her dorm was the only green spot in a sea of red and orange. And Neural Pulse gave him an out: if things went south, he could knock her out and run. The thought made him sick, but it was better than another termination, another name whispered into the void.

The sirens wailed again, closer, their red and blue lights flickering at the edge of the alley. Elliot’s decision crystallized. “Fine,” he whispered. “Mia’s dorm. But if this goes wrong, it’s on you.”

The system responded. "Relocation approved. Route calculated. Proceed 1.2 miles southwest to Crestwood University, Building C, Room 214. Avoid main roads. Neural Pulse cooldown: Complete."

Elliot pulled his hoodie tighter, the weight of Voss’s device pressing against his back as he slipped out of the alley. The streets were deserted, the silence broken only by the sirens’ echo. He stuck to the shadows, moving through backyards and side streets, Name Sight tagging every stray figure in the distance. Each name was a temptation, a reminder of the system’s power, but he forced himself to focus on the route, the green dot pulsing in his vision like a beacon.

As he neared campus, a chain-link fence loomed, separating the town from the university grounds. The system highlighted a gap in the fence, barely visible in the dark. Elliot squeezed through, his hoodie snagging briefly, and emerged on the edge of the quad. The campus was eerily quiet, the lockdown keeping students indoors. Police cruisers idled near the main buildings, their lights casting long shadows. Elliot crouched low, moving along the edge of the science building, the system’s map guiding him toward Building C.

Mia’s dorm was a squat, brick structure, its windows glowing with the soft light of desk lamps. Elliot’s pulse raced as he approached the side entrance, Name Sight tagging a lone security guard; James Edward Kline, patrolling the far side of the building. He waited, heart pounding, until the guard rounded the corner, then slipped inside using a student ID he’d swiped from a lost-and-found weeks ago.

The hallway was quiet, the faint hum of a vending machine the only sound. Room 214 was on the second floor, and Elliot took the stairs two at a time, his sneakers silent on the worn carpet. The system’s map pulsed in his vision, confirming the location. He stopped outside Mia’s door, her name glowing above it: Mia Elizabeth Carver. His hand hovered over the wood, doubt creeping in. What was he going to say? How could he explain showing up like this, bruised and desperate, without raising suspicion?

A message displayed on the interface:

THREAT LEVEL: LOW.

PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

NEURAL PULSE AVAILABLE IF NECESSARY.

Elliot swallowed, his throat dry. He’d come this far. The system had chosen this place, and he had no other options. With a shaky breath, he knocked, the sound soft but sharp in the quiet hall. The door opened a crack, and Mia’s face appeared, her eyes widening as she saw him.

“Elliot?” she said, her voice a mix of surprise and concern. “What are you doing here?”

He forced a smile, his mind racing for an excuse, the system’s hum a steady pulse urging him to step inside. “I… need your help,” he said, the words feeling like a step into the unknown.