Norway was quiet.
Too quiet.
They flew in under aliases, crossed the fjords by night, and followed a retired smuggler's map to a place long erased from satellite feeds — a sunken Soviet submarine base, sealed shut since '89.
Locals called it Ghost Dock.
The structure clung to the cliffside like rusted bone — corroded tunnels, blackened helipads, a main hatch half-buried in snow.
They geared up in silence. Cold bit through layers. No one spoke.
Evan broke the lock with the protocol code from the X-12 envelope.
The hatch groaned open.
Inside: silence, darkness, and stairs leading down into ice-choked air.
The first level was abandoned.
Peeling paint. Broken lights. Water dripping in the distance.
Juno led. Maya followed.
Evan carried the second payload: the purge virus. One upload, and this lab — whatever it held — would burn from the inside out.
Level two still had power.
Dim red backup lights pulsed from floor strips. Security drones hung from ceiling tracks — offline, but watching.
Juno whispered, "They didn't shut this place down. They buried it."
They passed sealed rooms filled with growth tanks. Inside — tissue suspended in fluid. Human. But wrong.
"Biological echo loops," Juno muttered. "Test subjects designed to emulate emotional contagion. They wanted to build fear that could spread like smell. Or a song."
One tank shattered as they passed. Empty.
Maya raised her weapon.
"I don't like this."
They reached the server room. Evan plugged in the payload. Data spilled open.
Maya read aloud: "Project X-12 — adaptive host vector. Designed for field control, memory replication, emotional override."
Juno froze.
"It's not a project. It's a person."
Evan pulled the main file. One image.
A girl — maybe thirteen. Pale. Eyes blank. Name redacted.
Status: In Transit — Subject Released 4/18.
Evan looked up. "That's two weeks ago."
Juno found a log.
Extraction team: Cain-Command.
Maya cursed. "He has her."
Juno brought up the last transmission before shutdown.
Audio only. Heavy breathing. Static.
Then a voice — young. Flat. Calm.
"They made me feel the end of the world every day until I didn't care anymore."
Then silence.
Evan stepped back. The server was warm.
"Someone's still accessing this system. Remotely."
Maya grabbed his arm. "We purge now."
Evan hesitated.
"If Cain has X-12, we're fighting a ghost in the shell. She's not just a weapon. She's a transmitter. Portable influence. Living contagion."
Juno keyed in the detonation.
Evan gave the final authorization.
FIRE PROTOCOL CONFIRMED
They ran.
The exit trembled.
The lab collapsed into itself — layers of steel and snow folding into the sea.
On the boat back to the mainland, Evan stared at the dark coast.
Maya stood beside him.
"What's the plan now?"
Evan didn't blink.
"We find her."
Singal black
The Nevada facility looked like nothing.
Just a stretch of desert, dust and sun and silence. But the satellite image said otherwise. Heat signatures ran deep — at least six levels underground.
Juno stood over the terminal at their hideout.
"This isn't Pale Court architecture. It's American. Built off their data, but cleaner. Faster. Funded."
"By who?" Maya asked.
Juno zoomed in.
"Classified. But routed through a front called EchoGuard Systems."
Evan already knew the name. His father had written it in the margins of the last page. Circled. Underlined twice.
They moved at night.
Juno disabled the outer drones. Maya cut through the fence.
Evan slipped in through a maintenance shaft that hadn't been sealed — left open for someone like him.
The first two levels were automated: bots, scanners, zero personnel.
Level three held a security checkpoint. Beyond it, a room full of screens.
One screen showed X-12.
Alone. Sitting at a desk. Drawing something over and over — a symbol that looked like a spiral cut in half.
Juno whispered, "That's a pulse signature. EM-coded."
"She's sending signals," Maya said.
"Not just signals," Evan said. "Commands."
They reached the observation room. A single guard. Evan took him down before he spoke.
Inside the file terminal, Juno found logs.
"Subject X-12 not held. She's... running the facility?"
Evan scanned the console. "No. She's the key. This system doesn't operate without her brain's resonance."
"She's the power source," Maya said flatly.
The lights flickered.
Then a voice came through the speakers.
Calm. Young. Hollow.
"You don't have authorization."
Juno's fingers froze.
Evan stepped forward. "We're not here to hurt you."
"You already did. Years ago. Before I remembered."
Maya asked, "Do you know who we are?"
Silence.
Then: "I know you're not Cain. That means I'm allowed to decide."
Doors sealed behind them.
Gas hissed.
Juno yanked the emergency override.
Lights snapped off. Only red emergency lamps remained.
They ran toward the containment wing — toward X-12.
Evan reached her chamber first. The door opened before he touched it.
She sat there, waiting.
Thirteen, maybe fourteen. Eyes black as coal. Calm.
"Why are you helping us?" Evan asked.
She tilted her head. "Because I'm done being theirs."
Juno scanned her vitals. "She's clean. No chip. But her neural field is boosted — there's a satellite uplink in her head."
"Can we remove it?" Maya asked.
Juno shook her head. "No. If we cut it, it'll kill her."
Evan looked at X-12. "What do you want?"
She stared back.
"To finish what your father started."