The world had already cured cancer.
It had cured it, buried it, and moved on.
In the cold belly of Berlin, beneath layers of reinforced steel and corporate silence, a different kind of cure was kept locked away. One that didn't belong in any trial, journal, or press conference. Just a small vial marked VX-M1. No label. No explanation. Just a thin red band of tape and a file restricted to Level 9 clearance far above anyone still working in the Reflex Foundation's basement vaults.
But Dr. Kael Rademeyer remembered it.
He had once touched the edge of history, his name whispered alongside the creators of Mirrorlife. Then came the accusations. The suspension. The slow erasure. His research buried. His legacy stolen.
And now, he was going to take something back.
The theft was quick, efficient, almost perfect until it wasn't. Betrayed by his buyer, chased through the alley behind the Berlin complex, Kael had no time to destroy the sample or cover his tracks. He ducked into an old service tunnel, heart hammering, footsteps behind him growing louder.
In desperation, he ripped open a rusted storm drain, yanked the steel grate aside, and hurled the hard case down into the blackness. He heard it crash against concrete far below followed by the soft shattering of glass.
He hesitated only for a second.
Then he vanished into the city.
Two Nights Later – District 12 Sewer Line, Berlin
"See that?"
"Could be a dead drop."
"Bet you five euros it's stashed dope."
The two sewer workers Lars Meinhardt and his younger cousin Dario stood at the mouth of Tunnel K7. Their flashlight beams reflected off something metallicwedged beneath a runoff pipe: a small, dented black case, half-covered in muck and debris.
Dario climbed down and yanked it free. The latch was broken. "Think it's cash?" he said with a grin.
Lars shrugged. "Crack it open."
Dario pried it open with a crowbar.
Inside: broken foam padding, a shattered containment tube, and a faintly glowing puddle of something thick and iridescent almost oily, yet strangely... still.
"No cash," Dario muttered, frowning.
"Smells like bleach and metal," Lars added. "Whatever it was, it's wrecked now."
They sealed the case back up and dumped it into the waste bin at the next station. Neither of them thought much of it. Workers stumbled across worse every week. They washed up, smoked a cigarette, and got back to their shift.
A Week Later – Rumors in the Dark
By the third day, rats had stopped avoiding light.
By the fifth, insects with oversized limbs and unnatural twitching were spotted by repair crews in Tunnel H4.
By the seventh, Lars's wife noticed his breath had taken on a faint chemical scent.
"Just sewer air," he said. "You get used to it."
But he didn't sleep much after that. Dario began hearing high-pitched squeals in his dreams sounds that came back to him even while awake.
Still, no hospital visits.
No reports filed.
Nothing official.
Only whispers.
A sanitation truck driver refused to enter Tunnel J. "Something's wrong down there," he said. "The rats were watching me. I mean watching like they understood."
Lars laughed it off. Dario didn't.
Day 15 – One Quiet Death
That night, Lars never came home.
His body was found in an access hatch near Tunnel L3. No wounds. No signs of struggle. His expression was vacant, as though he had simply... shut off.
Autopsy listed his death as heart failure.
No infections. No toxins. No cause.
The report was stamped "Unremarkable."
Two Weeks Later – Internal Health Advisory
A bulletin was quietly issued by Berlin Municipal Health Services:
NOTICE:
Multiple sanitation and infrastructure workers across Districts 9–14 have reported symptoms resembling upper respiratory infection: cough, mild fever, joint aches, and vertigo.
The illness appears non-lethal, with most cases resolving within 5–7 days. As a precaution, city personnel are advised to wear N95 masks during sewer operations and report persistent symptoms to their supervisors.
Berlin Department of Urban Health, Division of Containment & Environmental Response
No red flags.
No media coverage.
Just another seasonal bug likely spread through dirty water, or bad air, or rats.
Life went on.
And far beneath Berlin, where no one looked,
where broken things were forgotten and flushed,
something else had started to breathe.