Abby's Point of View
I'd just finished decrypting the last string of files when the alarm shrieked.
It didn't start with a warning chime or a sterile announcement like the usual lockdowns. No calm female voice telling us to return to our cells. Just a raw, mechanical wail—so loud and sudden it rattled my teeth and made my ears ring.
Red lights flashed across the corridor outside the office like something in a slaughterhouse. I dropped my tablet. Ryena spun toward the door. Hiliana grabbed the improvised bag of stolen files, already slinging it over her shoulder.
"Move," Ryena snapped.
We didn't argue. We ran.
Boots on linoleum. Breathing too loud. My legs already aching from the tension. My mind scrambled to guess what we'd triggered. Did the data download breach a deeper protocol? Did someone see the terminal activity on the network? Were they coming for us?
None of it mattered.
We were exposed.
We reached the end of the hallway where the lockdown shutters had already begun to descend like jaws. The usual route—gone.
We spun to the side corridor.
Blocked.
Another.
Locked.
"Abby!" Ryena growled. "Options!"
I looked around, frantically calculating. The alarm was still howling, echoing off every metal surface. We were being herded—whether by intention or design, I didn't know. Until—
"There." I pointed to the wall grating just above the maintenance closet. "Vent shaft."
Hiliana groaned. "You've got to be kidding me."
"It's the only way unless you want to try your luck with the incoming storm troopers."
She rolled her eyes and pulled the grate off with a sharp tug. "I swear, if I get tetanus or crawl through rat piss for this..."
"I'll print you a medal," Ryena said dryly. "Move."
"I go first," I said. "I know the tunnels better."
No one argued. I took a deep breath and hoisted myself up into the shaft. It was narrow. Dusty. I could feel the filth coating the palms of my hands as I dragged myself forward into the dark.
Behind me, I heard Hiliana grunt as she lifted in next.
"I swear," she muttered, "your ass better not be the only thing I see this entire crawl."
"That depends," I shot back, breathless, "on how much you stare."
Ryena snorted behind her. "Focus. Both of you."
The vent creaked under our combined weight. It was tight—barely wide enough to move without brushing against every slimy surface. Every crawl forward sent dirt flaking from the walls. My knees ached, elbows scraped raw. I kept going.
Every few feet, I paused, listening. The further we moved, the colder the air grew. Not the chill of outside. The sterile, unnatural cold of climate-controlled labs and underground vaults.
Hiliana grumbled behind me. "This is disgusting. Something just touched my leg."
"Probably air," I whispered.
"Or mutated sewer rats." She shuddered.
We reached a junction.
I angled my head down to peek through a grated slat below—and froze.
"…Oh my god," I whispered.
"What?" Ryena hissed.
I didn't answer right away. I just stared. I gulp nervously as I explain to them what's happening below us.
Below us, through the slats of the vent floor, a room stretched wide and clinical. Cold steel tables. Walls tiled in surgical white. The hum of machines. And in the center—
Mira.
Strapped down.
Naked.
Her arms were spread wide, shackled in place. Legs restrained at awkward angles. Her mouth hung open, a silent scream frozen on her face. Tubes snaked from her arms, pumping something clear—and something else black—into her veins.
She was twitching. Not violently. No.
Small, pitiful flinches. Like her body didn't have the strength to resist anymore.
Around her stood three masked figures Clad in full-body bio-suits. Faces obscured by mirrored visors. Each held a clipboard or a scalpel or some kind of injector. One was adjusting the dosage. Another was scribbling notes.
The third…
The third just watched.
I pressed closer to the grate, heart hammering. My stomach turned.
They weren't operating. They weren't trying to heal her.
They were studying her suffer
Pain was the experiment.
One of the figures reached forward and inserted something metallic under Mira's fingernail. She convulsed. I had to bite my hand to keep from crying out.
Her eyes opened—and she looked straight up.
Not at me. Not at the vent.
Just up.
And it was worse than if she had screamed. Her eyes were hollow. Not dead. But something deeper. Resigned.
Like she'd already died hours ago. They just hadn't finished tearing her apart yet.
"We have to get her out," I said, voice breaking.
"We can't," Ryena said behind me. Her voice was sharp. Controlled. "Not now. We don't know what security's like down there. If we go down, we're useless."
I clenched my fists.
Hiliana, for once, was quiet.
Just breathing heavy. Watching.
Then she leaned forward and whispered so low I almost didn't hear it:
"Those OPUS monsters took my sister."
I turned, blinking. "What?"
Hiliana's face was tight. Rigid. "They took her. I never knew where she went. Not until now."
I stared back down.
Another syringe entered Mira's neck. Her back arched off the table—then collapsed again. Her restraints didn't move. Her body went still.
The scientist monitoring her nodded. Spoke something we couldn't hear. One of the others scribbled it down. The third left the room, sealing the glass door behind him with a hiss.
Ryena leaned in now, her voice as hard as iron.
"We record it. Every second. Every angle. Every detail. We take it with us. And we burn their whole operation down."
I nodded, fingers shaking as I hit the record function on my device. Every second of this would be copied. Saved.
Exposed.
We crawled on—slower now. Every movement more deliberate. Each of us quieter than before.
No jokes. No sass.
The air inside the vent felt heavier now. Like it carried screams inside it.
Mira was alive.
Barely.
But now we knew what we were truly up against.
Not a prison.
A lab. A farm. A machine for turning people into numbers.
And I swear on everything I've ever hacked, stolen, or broken—
This place are definitely the most dangerous.