The days bled into each other in a haze of suffering and exhaustion. When the government first arrived at the bunker, Reis had clung to the belief that they were being rescued. The relief had been almost overwhelming—until the truth became evident. The soldiers weren't saviors. They were rounding them up like cattle.
They were shackled, muzzled, and transported like prisoners. Reis had never felt this helpless before. The first few nights in captivity were filled with the sounds of weeping and quiet, desperate prayers. The government facility was an industrialized hell, its cold steel walls radiating an aura of death. The air was thick with antiseptic and something metallic—something he later realized was blood.
Each day, they were subjected to brutal work, barely allowed enough food or water to keep them alive. Any attempt to resist resulted in severe punishment. They watched people disappear, never to return, or come back with dead, empty eyes.
The chains were too tight. Reis could feel the metal biting into his skin, leaving behind deep impressions. The others around him weren't faring any better—Seraph, barely holding herself together, Felix keeping his head down to avoid unwanted attention. They had all been fooled, and now, they were just another batch of captives thrown into the system.
The government facility they were brought to wasn't a prison in the traditional sense—it was worse. An industrial nightmare of steel corridors, artificial lighting that never dimmed, and the stench of sweat, blood, and chemicals. The survivors had been split into different sections; some forced into hard labor, others dragged away for experiments.
Every morning, a loud buzzer would blare, and they would be shoved out of their tiny holding cells to work in the wasteland—a barren stretch of scorched earth where they were forced to scavenge for resources, build structures, and dispose of the bodies of those who didn't make it. The government's goal was simple: Break them. Reduce them to nothing more than obedient shells.
Days passed, and Reis realized something terrifying—people were giving in. The starvation, the constant beatings, the public executions of those who resisted—it worked. He saw men and women who once fought to survive now bowing their heads, mechanically following orders, their spirits shattered.
Felix, who had remained mostly silent throughout, finally spoke as they sat in a dark corner of the sleeping chambers. "If we stay like this, we're already dead."
Seraph exhaled sharply, gripping the fabric of her tattered clothes. "And what do you suggest? We can't fight back when they monitor us every second."
"We don't fight," Reis muttered. "Not yet."
Seraph looked at him, searching his face for an answer.
"We endure," he said. "We watch, we learn, and when the time comes—we strike where it hurts the most."
That was the moment the plan began forming. They weren't just going to escape. They were going to burn this place down.
December of 2028,
It happened too fast. One moment, Amara was among them—then she was gone.
The guards came in at night, dragging her out of her cell. Reis had lunged forward, but the butt of a rifle met his stomach, and he collapsed, gasping for breath. They watched, helpless, as she was taken deeper into the facility—the section where the experiments happened.
The ones who went there never came back the same. If they came back at all.
Reis didn't sleep that night. Neither did Seraph or Felix.
Reis, Seraph, and Felix—who had now fully embraced his new name—began to understand that their only path to survival was through adaptation. Felix was sharp, picking up on patterns in the guards' patrol routes, the hierarchy of the officers, and the subtle cracks in the system. Seraph was strong, both physically and mentally, refusing to let despair take root. Reis, however, burned with a single-minded determination: he had to find Amara.
It was no longer just survival. It was war.
Reis wasn't the only one unwilling to kneel. Others were waiting too.
Slowly, over the next few weeks, whispers of rebellion spread through the prisoners. Those who still had the fire in them gravitated toward Reis, Felix, and Seraph. They had nothing to lose and one thing in common—they wanted revenge.
A group began to form. Small at first, but growing each day. They used coded messages, stolen supplies, and every little moment of freedom to build their plan. Felix, with his strategic mind, started working on weak points in the facility. Seraph kept morale up, preventing people from losing themselves to despair. Reis? He kept them moving forward.
For weeks, they observed. Felix gathered knowledge, committing every small detail to memory. Seraph, who had won the favor of some guards by pretending to be obedient, found ways to smuggle small items—things that could be turned into makeshift weapons. Reis? He focused on endurance, pushing himself beyond his limits, preparing for the inevitable battle to come.
It was during this time that they met another prisoner—a man with haunted eyes named Jonah. He had been there longer than them, and his knowledge was invaluable.
"You think you're the first to try?" Jonah asked one night. "Many have. All failed."
Reis clenched his fists. "Then we'll be the first to succeed."
Jonah studied him for a long time before letting out a hollow chuckle. "God help you, kid. You'll need it."
And so, their resistance began.
Every night, they whispered plans. Every day, they laid the groundwork. A stolen key here, a loose vent there. They were preparing for war.
Their time would come soon.
And when it did—the government would regret ever taking them in.
The night was heavy with smoke, thick enough to choke on. Fires burned in the distance, casting long, flickering shadows against the crumbling walls of the facility. Somewhere, a distant siren wailed—a warning that things were spiraling out of control.
Reis crouched in the darkness, his breath slow and measured. Next to him, Seraph tightened her grip on a makeshift knife—a sharpened piece of metal stolen from the vents. Felix, as always, was running the calculations in his head, eyes darting between the security patterns they had memorized over the last year.
May of 2029,
Tonight was the night.
"Are we really gonna do this?" asked Seraph.
"We ARE gonna, there's no other option we are keeping here" said Reis.
After a whole damn year of rebellion, of pushing back against the government bastards, of freeing prisoners, of hitting their supply chains, of turning small victories into momentum—this was it.
Jonah had been the one to bring them the final key detail. The one gap in security that shouldn't have existed. A window of exactly thirteen minutes before the next guard shift. It was the kind of intel that was too good to ignore.
And yet...
Something in Reis's gut felt wrong.
Jonah had been with them for a while, but something about him never sat right. He knew too much. Spoke just enough to be useful but never enough to really reveal anything about himself. He was always watching, always measuring. But after a year of fighting for their lives, doubts had taken a backseat to survival.
Seraph whispered, "Something's off. I don't like this."
"hey you guys chill out, i know ya'll are probably doubting me cause i know this much but relax its just because i've worked under the main rulers for a long time"
"what if you are still working with them"
"guess we'll never know".
They moved.
Slipping through the facility like shadows, ducking past rusted fences, avoiding the floodlights that had once made this place a fortress. A place of nightmares.
Tonight, it would fall.
The others were already in position. Small groups stationed near the north and south wings, waiting for the signal. They had weapons this time. Smuggled firearms, blades fashioned from scrap metal. Some had even managed to get their hands on explosives.
If this worked, the entire government facility would collapse.
Jonah was the one to disable the security doors.
"Start moving"
He moved fast, fingers flying over the panel as the red warning light flickered. Beads of sweat ran down his forehead.
He's nervous.
For a year, Jonah had been cold, calculating, almost too damn calm. But now? Now he looked anxious.
The final barrier hissed open.
Reis exhaled, forcing his nerves to settle. "We're in."
The others began filing through. Everything was going perfect.
Too perfect.
And then—
The first explosion tore through the facility at exactly 2:13 AM. A fireball erupted from the east wing, sending burning debris raining down upon the compound. Klaxons screamed. Guards scrambled. Chaos.
It was time.
Felix was already moving, sprinting through the shadows as alarms blared around him. His group had memorized every blind spot, every flaw in the security system. They struck like ghosts, knives flashing in the dim red emergency lights.
"HAHA, way to go" ~ Felix.
"Dude never saw you so excited" ~ Seraph.
"Stop talking guys, we're on a mission" said Reis.
Reis and Seraph led the first wave, ambushing guards who stumbled through the smoke. They fought with the desperation of people who had spent a year waiting for this moment. Metal pipes crushed skulls. Scavenged knives sliced through Kevlar. Blood painted the walls.
Prisoners flooded out of their cells, overwhelming the disoriented enforcers. The rebellion had begun.
Felix reached the main security hub, breath ragged. The doors were reinforced, but they had prepared for that. He pulled out a small, stolen detonator and pressed the button.
BOOM.
"THERE WE FUCKIN GO"
The blast ripped the door off its hinges. Felix and two others rushed in, weapons raised. The guards inside barely had time to react before they were cut down. The control panels flickered. Felix slammed his fist onto the console, overriding security locks. Doors swung open across the facility.
"All units, fall back to the central yard!" he shouted into the stolen radio. "We push through NOW!"
Seraph was covered in blood, most of it not his. He dragged an injured comrade to safety, then turned back to the fray. Gunfire rattled through the air. Explosions rocked the compound. Shadows moved in the smoke, the dying screaming for mercy that would never come.
"REIS DUDE CHILL DON'T GO CRAZY OVER THE SOLDIER'S, AMARA WOULD FEEL JEALOUS"
"SHUT UP LEMME JUST..."
He saw Reis then, fighting like a demon. His fists were raw from impact, his knife glistening. He had taken down four guards already, and he wasn't stopping.
"MOVE!" he barked at the rebels. "We take the courtyard or we're dead!"
The central yard was a killing field. The government's elite forces had arrived, armored and ruthless. They opened fire, mowing down prisoners like insects. But the rebels had numbers. They swarmed like a tidal wave, dragging soldiers to the ground, overwhelming them with sheer fury.
Jonah fought alongside Reis, cutting through enemies with brutal efficiency. He had been their guide, their mentor in survival. He had told them escape was impossible.
And yet here they were.
"FUCK YEAHHHHH"
Victory was within reach.
Until Jonah turned.
One moment, Jonah was standing beside them, his blade sinking into a soldier's throat. The next, he was behind Felix, gun raised.
The shot rang out.
Felix staggered forward, gasping, a bloom of crimson spreading across his back. He collapsed, choking on his own blood.
Silence fell.
Jonah stepped back, gun still smoking. The remaining guards hesitated, confused but hopeful.
"You think I survived this long by being a hero?" Jonah said.
Reis' vision went red. His scream was inhuman, rage and betrayal ripping through his throat. He lunged, but Jonah was already moving. Soldiers surrounded them in an instant.
"YOU ASSHOLE, YOU WERE A SLAVE LIKE ALL OF THEM THEN WHY DID YOU BETRAY US YOU MOTHERFUCKER. DO YOU LIKE SUCKING THEIR FUCKING DICK THAT MUCH THAT YOU DON'T EVEN WANT FREEDOM FROM THESE DICTATORS? YOU ARE THE TYPE OF GUY WHO WOULD FUCKING SELL THEIR FREEDOM FOR SOME I DONT KNOW WHATEVER THEY GAVE YOU, DO YOU HAVE ANYTHING EVEN LEFT IN YOU?" shouted Reis.
Seraph fought tooth and nail, refusing to go down. He screamed Jonah's name like a curse, a promise of vengeance. He bit, clawed, broke noses, shattered ribs. But there were too many. A rifle butt slammed into the side of his head, and everything went black.
Reis was the last to fall. He was still screaming when they beat him into the dirt.
"I AM GONNA SKIN YA'LL ALIVE YOU ASSHOLES"
"YOU ALL ARE GONNA REGRET THIS"
"LEAVE US"
"LEAVE AMARA"
Blood soaked the courtyard. The rebellion had lasted a year.
And in a single night, it was over.
The chaos outside had turned into hell on earth. The rebellion, after a full year of fighting, had come down to this one final, desperate stand. Smoke and fire painted the sky red, screams filled the air, and bodies—both rebel and government—lay scattered like broken dolls.
Reis's heart pounded in his chest. His hands were slick with blood, some his own, most of it not. Felix had taken a bullet to the shoulder but was still moving, still firing. Seraph fought like a demon, her blade slicing through the enemy with a fury that could only come from a year of suffering.
They were winning.
They were winning.
Until Jonah betrayed them.
It happened so fast that no one had time to react. A single radio transmission, a flick of his wrist, and the entire battlefield shifted. The government forces, once scattered and desperate, moved in perfect unison as the gates behind them slammed shut.
Trapped.
The rebels—their people—were caged in like animals. Jonah stood among the soldiers, his face unreadable.
"You..." Reis's voice was raw, shaking. "You sold us out"
Jonah's eyes darkened.
Seraph was screaming, thrashing against the soldiers that grabbed him. "You're a dead man, Jonah! YOU HEAR ME? I'LL RIP YOUR FUCKING HEART OUT!"
Felix was silent. His expression was cold, calculating. He didn't even struggle when they grabbed him.
One by one, they were taken down. Shock batons cracked against their skin, rifles bashed against skulls, and boots stomped on fingers that reached for fallen weapons. Reis fought until his body refused to move anymore. His last memory before darkness took him was Jonah's face, standing over him, expression twiste
"Nah it's fine, not like i would give up. Not on anybody."
The alarm blared. More soldiers stormed in. The head of the operation—a cold-eyed bastard in a white coat—stepped forward, calm as ever.
"FU-"
And without hesitation, he raised a gun.
Bang.
The bullet ripped through Jonah's skull.
"JONAH... NO" Shouted Reis.
It happened in an instant—blood and brain matter splattering against the control panel. Jonah's body collapsed right in front of Reis's tank. His lifeless eyes stared up, as if asking for forgiveness he'd never receive.
Reis screamed.
" I'LL MAKE SURE. I'LL MAKE SURE. I'LL MAKE SURE THAT YOU REGRET EVERY BREATH YOU'VE EVER TAKEN"
But no sound came out. The liquid muffled everything, trapping his fury, his grief, his hatred.
The last thing he saw before his vision blurred was the scientist's cruel smirk as he turned back to the machines.
And then the experiments began.