Still in the Vatican Laboratory, Malcolm checked through the memory-playing device setup, making sure everything was running smoothly. His eyes shifted to Valtor, who remained seated in the chair, still wearing the connected gear.
Sitting beside him, Malcolm gently placed his hand in Valtor's. The boy lay still, unconscious, eyes firmly shut—drifting deep into his memories...
In his memories—
Valtor burst into his father's office, fire in his eyes, seeking answers. He halted only when he caught sight of the superintendent, who was just leaving after what seemed to be a tense discussion with his father.
Valtor waited until the soldier stepped out, then stormed toward the desk.
"Dad, what's going on?" he demanded, voice tight with frustration.
Malcolm sighed as he leaned back in his chair. "A new development. A decision by the council."
"New development?" Valtor repeated, incredulous. "Why does it involve having young people strapped in the lab like animals?!"
"You shouldn't have seen that, Valtor," Malcolm said, sitting upright, tone measured.
"Don't tell me you're experimenting on them," Valtor pressed, searching his father's face.
Malcolm remained silent.
"Dad?... Dad!" Valtor shouted, anger rising.
"I haven't agreed to it—yet," Malcolm finally admitted.
"Yet?" Valtor echoed, stunned. He sank into the chair across from his father. "They were taken against their will, weren't they?"
Malcolm lowered his head. "The superintendent failed to tell me that until today. If I'd known... I would never have let them in."
"It's not too late," Valtor urged, leaning closer. "You can send them back. While I was watching from the windows, one of them tried to call out to me—begging for help."
Malcolm clenched his jaw, still looking down.
"You can't use people like that," Valtor continued, voice shaking. "No matter what the cause. It's wrong- and it goes against the ethics of your profession. You taught me that!"
"I know, son," Malcolm finally said, lifting his head. "And as a council member, I voted against the study. But I was outvoted. Most of them support it—including the Nexist president."
Valtor's eyes narrowed. "So what? You're just going to obey?"
Malcolm's voice was heavy. "Carrying out the procedures is now my assigned duty. Refusing... it won't be simple."
Valtor sighed. "But you said you hadn't agreed to it yet. You're still hesitant… right?"
Malcolm glanced at his son, silent.
"So… there's still a way to stop this?" Valtor pressed, hope flickering in his voice.
Malcolm narrowed his eyes, thinking for a long moment.
"There might be," he said at last.
He picked up his phone and dialed a number.
................
Back in the present...
Vatican Barracks:
Zara, Rowynn, and Kymani sprinted into the hall, heads swiveling as they scanned the space.
"There!" Rowynn shouted, pointing toward a small chest lying at the end of the long corridor.
They dashed toward it, hearts racing. Kymani flung the lid open—empty.
"Sorry, kids," came Lieutenant Ross's husky voice from behind.
They turned to see him approaching, the gold medal gleaming around his neck. Flanking him were Lynx and Orea, smug smiles etched on their faces.
"Of course they already found it," Kymani muttered, folding his arms.
Rowynn tugged at her long hair, frustration evident on her face, while Zara rolled her eyes at the winners.
"Congrats, everyone," Lt. Ross addressed the group. "You all completed each stage of the challenge and came out victorious. That alone means you've passed this phase of training."
The cadets exchanged glances, catching their breath.
"But," he continued, "as promised, the team who brings me the medal will be our official winners. And for that reason, I declare Lynx and Orea the victors of this quest!"
Lynx and Orea let out a cheer, high-fiving triumphantly. Their teammates joined in with light applause, some more enthusiastic than others.
---
Deep in Valtor's memory…
Valtor lay sprawled across the living room sofa, eyes fixed on the ceiling, his mind replaying the day's events—what he'd seen in the lab, and the troubling conversation with his father.
He glanced at the phone in his hand. 4:30 PM.
His dad never returned before 5:00 PM.
Valtor sighed. I can't just sit here and wait. He wondered how his dad's proposed meeting would go. Hopefully, they'd see reason—and release the captives.
Ding-dong.
The doorbell snapped him from his thoughts.
He rose and made his way through the spacious living room toward the wooden front doors. As always, he peered through the peephole first.
A group of Vatican soldiers stood outside in full uniform.
Valtor hesitated, then unlocked the door.
"Good day, Mister Steel," the front soldier said calmly.
"Hi," Valtor replied, trying to match their cool tone, eyes darting across the group. "My dad's still at work," he added quickly.
"We know," the soldier said with a slight smile.
Before Valtor could react, another man stepped forward and sprayed something in his face—a sharp, hissing burst of unfamiliar gas.
Everything went black...