From the broken window of the depot safehouse, Matt watched the clouds scatter like ashes. In the distant skyline, towers blinked red — not from beauty, but surveillance drones returning to dock.
Brendon had finally shifted out of his primal form, now resting shirtless on a rusted cot, steam rising faintly off his skin. His body still bore remnants of the transformation — taut muscles, deep claw scratches healing over his ribs, and the golden tint lingering in his eyes.
Christopher stood at the far end of the room, tapping through the drive he'd stolen from police servers.
> Clervaux Internal Finance > Authorizations > Medical Wing 09-Alpha…
He paused.
"Found it."
Matt turned. "What is it?"
Christopher looked up. "Not just funding. Authorization codes. Blacksite approvals. Signed by three departments — Public Health Bureau, Military Research Division… and the National Bioethics Council."
Brendon's head lifted. "They sanctioned the experiments."
Christopher nodded grimly. "All of them."
Matt clenched his fists. "How many others like Isla…?"
Christopher rubbed his temples. "If those pods are still active… maybe ten. Maybe more."
Matt stood up. "We have to go now. We can't wait for another murder to be staged."
Christopher closed the laptop. "If we rush it, they will know that we are close."
"Then let it be!" Matt barked. "I've spent months being bait. I don't care anymore. We will get her out. We will end this. Or we all go down trying."
The silence afterward was heavy.
Brendon's voice cut through it. Calm. Measured.
"No. Not all of us. It will be just me."
Matt turned. "Don't do that. Don't pull the lone wolf act mister."
But Brendon didn't flinch. "I'll go first because I am the only one here who can fight a hoard of police. I will map the place, then come back. Then we all hit it together. No surprises."
Christopher crossed his arms. "And what if you don't come back?"
Brendon offered a wry smile. "Then burn it all down."
---
Elsewhere – Isla's Mind
Inside Pod 07, Isla Lancer's eyelids fluttered.
She did not wake — not entirely.
But her soul did.
She was trapped inside a fractured reflection of her own memories — a maze made of faded chalk drawings, hospital lights, and rusted chains.
Footsteps echoed.
Her younger self stood at the edge of a hallway — thirteen, frightened, arms cradling a sketchbook.
"Are you real?" young Isla whispered.
Present Isla — or the projection of her — reached forward. "You're me."
"They tried to make me forget," the younger said. "But I remember you."
The walls rippled like static.
One door cracked open.
Inside: Zuekh. Writing notes. His voice echoing.
> "Memory destabilization is not a side effect — it's a defense mechanism. Her mind adapts faster than the formula allows. We must increase sedation dosage."
Younger Isla whispered: "They think breaking us makes us useful."
Present Isla stared at the echo of Zuekh and stepped into the room. "Then they haven't broken us yet."
For the first time, her hand touched a surface — a chair. Real. Solid.
The sedation was weakening.
She was waking.
---
Meanwhile – Mapping the Lab (Night)
Brendon crouched near the edge of the ruins — where the industrial zone blurred into sewer lines and freight stations. His eyes were gold once more. His skin rippled faintly, fur pushing through around his shoulders and forearms.
> In his primal state. Focused.
He inhaled.
Metal. Rust. Sterilization fluid.
And beneath it — human blood.
He moved.
The outer perimeter was wired, but not well. Designed to keep out vagrants, not trained infiltrators. Brendon scaled the fence, crawled through a maintenance vent, and dropped silently into the underbelly of the hidden facility.
Monitors buzzed above. Keypads blinked red.
But he was fast. Low to the ground. Nearly invisible.
He found the pods first.
Twelve of them.
Only four were occupied now.
One was Isla.
> Still alive. Still dreaming.
But then, Brendon saw something worse.
> Pod 05. Empty. Blood smeared on the inside.
Someone was definitely inside. But not anymore.
A screen nearby read: Status: Expired – Subject Converted.
He moved on.
Farther into the lab, he found a secondary room — cold. Shelves of organs.
Lungs. Kidneys. Ocular systems. Some natural, some hybrid.
All tagged.
All traced.
Some labeled: Donor – Unregistered. Processing cleared.
Brendon swallowed bile.
This was no research wing.
It was a harvest site.
He reached for his communicator.
"Matt. I found her."
---
Scene – The Confrontation
At the safehouse, Matt's voice crackled back. "What's her condition?"
"She's sedated. But stable."
"I'm on my way."
Christopher shook his head. "Wait, you don't even have a—"
But Matt had already grabbed his jacket and bolted out the door.
Christopher sighed. "Goddamn it. Okay... wait for me..."
---
Zuekh's Chamber
Back inside the facility, Zuekh entered his private room.
He knew someone was inside before he even opened the door.
"I hope you found the layout impressive," he said, voice dry.
Brendon stepped from the shadows.
"How long?"
Zuekh shrugged. "Since before you were ever born."
"You were a doctor once, aren't you?"
"I AM a doctor. I just stopped pretending to be a detective who sees humans and anthros as equals."
"You used children. How could you?"
"I used subjects. Test groups. You want to be angry? Be angry at the world that let them rot in alleys before I picked them up. It's not me. It's this funking world that discriminates. Why subjugate me, huh?"
Brendon growled low.
Zuekh grinned. "But you're not here to debate, right? You are here to feel. That's what your kind do best."
Brendon lunged.
They collided.
Zuekh wasn't enhanced, but he was ready. He pulled a small device from his coat — an arc-taser designed for nerve disruption.
Brendon dodged. Slashed. The device skittered away.
They grappled, slammed into walls, kicked over equipment.
Then—
Zuekh yanked a lever.
Gas hissed from the vents.
> Sleep agent. Targeted for anthro physiology.
Brendon staggered, eyes fluttering.
"Good night... wolf."
---
The Rescue
Matt reached the outer gates moments later.
He didn't go around.
He ran straight through.
The guards didn't expect it.
Two dropped before they could raise weapons — fists, knees, elbow strikes — Matt moved like a man with nothing left to lose.
He kicked open the rear door and charged inside.
The lights flickered.
Alarms didn't go off — which meant Zuekh wanted him to enter.
Matt didn't care.
He found the main lab.
He saw her.
Isla.
Eyes closed, but breathing.
And next to her — Brendon.
Unconscious.
Matt moved fast. Yanked the oxygen mask off Isla. Cradled her.
Then punched the override panel on the pod.
It hissed open.
She gasped.
Eyes wide open now.
Matt caught her as she fell forward.
"Matt…" she whispered, tears forming instantly. "It's you."
"I got you," he whispered. "You're safe now."
A door burst open.
Zuekh entered, two guards with him.
"Touching isn't it? You just fell into my trap." he said. "But don't worry your brother won't be leaving."
Matt turned, placing Isla behind him.
"You really think I'm afraid of you now?"
Zuekh smiled. "No. I want you to be brave. Makes it more fun."
He raised his hand.
Gunfire rang out — but not at Matt.
At the guards behind Zuekh.
A third figure appeared behind them.
Christopher.
Rifle in hand.
"You forgot I used to be the best shot in the precinct."
Zuekh snarled and lunged at Matt.
Matt met him halfway.