2:47 AM — Zurich Compound, Sublevel 3
Adrian wiped the blood from his gloves with a sterile towel. Dr. Elias Varrin sat slumped against the cracked monitor wall, wrists zip-tied, lip split, breathing shallow but still alive. Adrian didn't need him dead.
Not yet.
"I need names," Adrian said. "The ones who signed off on Blacksite Thorne. Not the puppets. The architects."
Varrin coughed. "You think there's a list? A clean, easy scroll of villains like in a comic book?"
"There was for me," Adrian said. "It was called the Ash List."
Varrin let out a dry laugh. "The Ash List is sanitized. Controlled. It's bait. You're chasing ghosts while the real devils sit in boardrooms with clearance levels we never even saw."
Adrian stared at him, unmoved. "Then give me something real."
Varrin's gaze sharpened. "You ever heard of 'Protocol Veil'?"
The name hit something in Adrian's memory. A code he once heard during a drugged interrogation—mumbled between electrodes and ice baths. It had never meant anything. Until now.
"Project Veil," Varrin whispered. "A failsafe, buried deeper than Thorne. Run by an offshoot of Echo—operatives trained to mimic death, disappear, and reemerge when needed. Human shadows."
Adrian's eyes narrowed. "Why tell me this?"
"Because I saw your file, Kael." Varrin's voice dropped. "You weren't just Subject E-17. You were Candidate One for Protocol Veil."
Adrian froze.
That wasn't possible. His capture, his torture, his trial—it had all been a mistake. A betrayal. A punishment for refusing orders.
Or so he thought.
"You mean to tell me," he said slowly, "that everything they did to me… wasn't punishment?"
Varrin nodded, grim. "It was conditioning."
The implications cut deeper than any wound he'd taken.
His training. His memory loss. His heightened pain threshold. The sudden coldness in him that never quite left after Thorne.
It was all part of something bigger.
And he hadn't escaped.
He'd been activated.
3:03 AM – Surveillance Van, Two Blocks Away
Rhea Calder sat frozen in her chair as her audio feed played back the conversation inside the compound.
"You weren't just Subject E-17. You were Candidate One for Protocol Veil."
She hit pause. Ran the line again. And again.
No wonder the Agency went dark on her. No wonder they wanted her off the case.
They didn't just want Adrian Kael silenced.
They were afraid he might remember what he was designed to do.
Back Inside the Compound
Adrian stepped back from Varrin, jaw tight.
"How deep does it go?"
Varrin looked at him, blood dribbling from his mouth. "You don't want to know."
Adrian crouched again, voice low. "You don't get to tell me what I want."
"I mean it," Varrin said. "This isn't just about you anymore. They let you walk for a reason. They're not done. They're testing something—you. The List is just the beginning. A filter. To see how far you'll go."
Adrian said nothing. Just stared.
"You want the next name?" Varrin coughed. "Fine. I'll give you one."
He glanced toward a nearby drawer. Adrian opened it.
Inside was a file marked in red:
Codename: Sentinel
Name: Rhea Calder
Status: Tier-1 Analyst – Former
Directive: Observe and Report on Subject E-17
Notes: Containment potential if compromised
Adrian's pulse slowed. Rhea wasn't just a loose end.
She was part of the program.
Maybe still is.
3:12 AM – Street Outside
Rhea stepped out of the van, tucking her pistol behind her back. She didn't wear body armor. She wasn't here for a fight.
But if Adrian Kael had read her file… this wasn't going to be a conversation either.
She approached the building through a blind spot in the external cameras. Classic agency placement. Irony wasn't dead.
Inside, the alarms were still down. Whoever fried the grid knew what they were doing.
He's not just a soldier, she thought.
He's a machine built to burn the world quietly.
She reached the reinforced door to Sublevel 3.
It was unlocked.
3:15 AM – Echo Room
Adrian heard the soft click before the door opened.
He didn't raise his gun.
Rhea Calder stepped into the room, eyes sharp, hands visible.
"Rhea," Adrian said. Flat. Cold.
"You read the file?"
"Every word."
She looked at Varrin, then back at him. "He's not the only one lying."
"I figured," Adrian said. "Now tell me something."
He stepped toward her, just once. Heavy. Final.
"Are you here to stop me… or help me finish what they started?"
Rhea didn't answer right away.
But her hand drifted from her pistol to her coat pocket, where a black flash drive sat.
And her answer, when it came, wasn't a yes or no.
It was worse.
"I think we were both activated."
The words hung in the air like a loaded gun between them.
Adrian didn't move.
Didn't blink.
Just stared at her, measuring every syllable, every breath. His brain, trained to dissect lies, was already dissecting hers. Pulse rate steady. No defensive posture. But her eyes—there was something behind them. Guilt maybe. Or fear.
He stepped closer. "Explain."
Rhea hesitated for half a second too long.
Then: "I was assigned to monitor Subject E-17 before your trial. I thought I was just another analyst. But the further I dug, the more redacted layers I found. Files hidden behind false clearance tags. Your name kept showing up. Then it disappeared—replaced by a number."
"E-17."
She nodded. "They erased you before they ever arrested you."
Adrian didn't lower his guard. "Why follow me now?"
"Because the erasure protocol wasn't limited to you." She reached into her coat and slowly pulled out the black flash drive. "I found a list. Candidates. Experiments. Echo wasn't a single program—it was a breeding ground. They weren't making soldiers, Kael."
She met his eyes.
"They were making weapons."
Adrian's jaw tightened.
"I'm not your weapon."
"I know," she said. "That's why they want you dead."
Varrin groaned from the floor, blood pooling beneath his temple. "You're both wrong," he muttered. "They don't want him dead. They want him ready."
Adrian turned back to him. "Ready for what?"
Varrin coughed. "For Phase V."
Adrian grabbed him by the collar again, dragging him upright. "What the hell is Phase V?"
Varrin looked at Rhea.
Then at Adrian.
And whispered: "The Awakening."
Adrian slammed him back down and turned to Rhea. "You're going to show me what's on that drive."
"I was hoping you'd say that," she said, her voice steady—but not cold. Not like his.
Adrian stepped toward the door.
But Varrin spoke again.
"One more thing," he said, weak but clear. "There's another. A candidate. One who passed the final sequence. They didn't erase him."
Adrian paused mid-step.
"What's his name?"
Varrin's bloodied lips curled into something between a grin and a grimace.
"He goes by Specter now. And he's not like you. He likes what they did to him."
Adrian's fist clenched.
Specter.
He'd heard the name before. Rumors passed through blacksite whispers. A ghost in the system. A man who didn't survive the torture—but became it.
"Where is he?" Adrian asked.
But Varrin's eyes were glassing over.
"Too late," he rasped. "He's already in play."
Then his head fell forward.
Dead.
3:42 AM — Somewhere Unknown
A man sat alone in a sterile white room, facing a mirror that wasn't a mirror.
He wore no uniform, no insignia. Just black.
No emotion, either.
A voice crackled through a hidden speaker.
"Subject S-09. Proceed with Protocol Veil cleanup directive. Kael and Calder are compromised."
The man didn't speak.
He just stood, pulled on gloves, and walked toward the exit.
His face was familiar—at least to anyone who had worked on Echo.
But it wasn't a face that ever showed up in files.
No… this one lived in the margins.
In the shadows between subjects and success.
Back at the Compound — 4:00 AM
Rhea and Adrian moved in silence.
They exited through a rear corridor, avoiding motion sensors Adrian had mapped hours earlier. Once outside, Rhea exhaled for the first time in minutes.
"You think Varrin was telling the truth?" she asked.
"I think dead men don't lie," Adrian replied, slipping the pistol back into his coat.
They stepped into the alley, the distant skyline of Zurich smothered by fog and artificial light.
"You're not going to like what's on this drive," Rhea said, sliding it into a reader in her palm-sized tablet.
Adrian didn't look away.
"I haven't liked anything since 2017."
The screen blinked, decrypted, and lines of code gave way to names, faces, classified documents—and one live directive, still blinking:
ACTIVE ASSET: SPECTER (S-09)
STATUS: INITIATED
DIRECTIVE: CLEANSE EXPOSED ELEMENTS (PRIORITY: E-17, RHEA C.)
Adrian's hand went to his sidearm again.
"They've already sent him."
Rhea nodded grimly. "Which means we have very little time."
Adrian turned his back to the screen.
His voice low. Focused.
"Then we stop running."
He met her gaze.
"And we start a war."