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The soft hum of the luxury coach filled the air, the built-in air conditioning keeping the cabin comfortably cool. The scent of fresh, pristine leather lingered, blending with the faint ozone-like aroma from the purified air system. The vehicle glided through the elevated roads of Vespera's Upper Echelon, its motion smooth and effortless. Outside, the city stretched in a pattern of glass towers and neon accents pristine, orderly. The streets were spotless, the buildings sleek and imposing. A far cry from the cramped, chaotic districts Riley had grown up in.
His fingers drummed lightly against the leather armrest. The atmosphere inside the coach was thick with tension. The handful of recruits around him remained silent—some glued to holo-devices, others staring absently at the passing skyline. No conversations, no whispered theories. Just the shared weight of uncertainty.
What exactly have we signed up for?
A faint hiss broke the silence.
Riley's eyes darted to the vents along the ceiling. A thin, transparent mist began to seep into the cabin. His muscles tensed as the sterile, metallic scent filled the air. His eyelids grew heavy almost instantly.
Gas.
He fought to resist, but the lethargy overtook him. His thoughts scattered, limbs losing strength as the edges of his vision darkened. The last thing he saw was the blurred city lights fading behind the tinted glass.
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A soft classical melody played in the background—elegant yet unnervingly detached. It looped on repeat, lacking any real warmth or emotion. Riley's eyes flickered open, adjusting to the dim ambient lighting. For a few moments, disorientation gripped him. Then the memories surged back—the coach, the gas, the forced sleep.
He sat up abruptly, heart pounding.
Around him, other recruits stirred from their forced slumber. Some blinked groggily, others glanced around in confusion. No one spoke, as if collectively unsure whether they were supposed to. The faint smell of the sedative still clung to the air.
Outside the window, a colossal dome-like structure loomed in the distance, bathed in sterile white light. A digital display floated above its entrance, flickering with the words Noir Rosé—their destination.
The coach doors slid open with a mechanical hiss. One by one, the recruits disembarked onto the metallic platform below. The ground beneath their feet shimmered under the artificial lights, reflecting the ghostly glow of the facility. The air was unnervingly crisp, filtered and purified to an almost clinical degree.
Riley stepped off, his legs still slightly unsteady. His gaze swept the facility, taking in its cold precision. The entire place felt engineered to strip away any sense of comfort or familiarity.
They were ushered into a wide, auditorium-like chamber. Towering screens lined the walls, cycling through geometric data streams and cryptic schematics. The ceiling curved high overhead, its surface embedded with countless surveillance lenses. At the center of the stage, a small group of Tenzashi administrators stood in perfect formation, silent, watchful.
A tall man stepped forward, his posture rigid, his face sharp and angular. His eyes carried the clinical detachment of someone who measured others not by their humanity, but by their utility.
"Welcome to Project Echelon." His voice cut through the silence, calm, yet weighted. "You have been selected for your exceptional capabilities. Your potential. Your future begins here."
His gaze swept the recruits, pausing for a fraction longer on those who looked the most uncertain.
"This is not a government initiative," he continued. "Nor is it a simple training program. Project Echelon is the next step forward—an undertaking that will reshape the world as we know it."
A murmur rippled through the crowd. The words were rehearsed, polished, offering just enough information to sound promising without revealing anything substantial.
"As part of this project, each of you will be assigned an Artificial Valthon Unit—an AVU. These AI-assisted modula suits will enhance your abilities, aid in operations, and protect you in the field."
Some recruits perked up at the mention of AVUs, but Riley remained still. The administrator's carefully measured tone left too much unsaid. They were holding back, dangling half truths to gauge how much the recruits would question.
"Further functionality will be disclosed as you progress," the administrator added. "Adaptability and problem-solving are fundamental qualities in Project Echelon. Those who cannot demonstrate them…"
He let the sentence hang.
"…will be removed."
The final word echoed through the hall. He delivered it with the precision of a surgeon making an incision, clean, bloodless, deliberate.
A flicker of unease passed through the group. No one asked what removed meant.
"Your safety is guaranteed," the administrator continued, his tone neutral. "This facility is designed to provide optimal conditions for your growth."
Riley's eyes narrowed. The phrasing stood out. It was the kind of promise that sounded reassuring but left room for loopholes.
The briefing ended without further elaboration. The recruits were split into small groups and guided down sterile corridors, their footsteps echoing against polished steel floors. Every hallway looked identical—white walls, soft blue lighting, seamless panels. It was a place designed to disorient, to strip away any sense of location or control.
Eventually, Riley reached his assigned room. Room 99. The door slid open automatically as he approached.
Inside, the room was stark and minimal. A bed, a desk, a wardrobe. No windows. No personal touches. Even the temperature was meticulously regulated, leaving the air feeling stagnant.
He scanned the walls, half-expecting hidden cameras. Every inch of this place was built to monitor and condition them.
A soft chime sounded from the holo-terminal embedded in the wall, displaying a pre-structured schedule. Wake times, training blocks, dietary intake. Everything accounted for.
He dropped his bag onto the bed, exhaling slowly.
A knock echoed at his door.
Riley tensed. He opened it to find a tall, wiry boy standing in the hallway—dark hair falling over sharp grey eyes. His face was pale, his posture guarded.
"Jade," the boy introduced himself quietly. "Room next to yours."
Riley studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Riley."
Jade glanced down the hallway, lowering his voice. "They gassed us, right? On the coach?"
Riley's eyes narrowed. "Pretty sure."
The boy's shoulders relaxed slightly, as if reassured that he wasn't the only one suspicious.
"This whole place feels…weird."
Riley leaned against the doorframe. His mind raced, piecing together what little information they'd been given.
"We'll figure it out," he muttered.
Jade's uncertain smile flickered in the dim light. "If we last that long."
Riley didn't smile back.
If we last that long…
He closed the door and returned to the bed, staring at the ceiling.
Beneath the surface pleasantries, behind the polished facade of Project Echelon, something darker was at play.
He could feel it in every sterile breath.
Whatever secrets Noir Rosé hid, they weren't meant to be uncovered.
But Riley had no intention of playing by the rules.