The world was quiet.
Too quiet.
Ash fell like slow rain, coating the ruins of Los Angeles in gray. Buildings that once scraped the sky were now cracked teeth jutting from the earth. The blast had carved a crater into the city's heart, a wound still glowing faintly beneath the haze.
Ethan lay on the ground, half-buried under concrete dust. His ears rang; the only sound was his own heartbeat thudding in his skull.
He tried to move—pain screamed through his body.
"Riley…"
No answer.
He pushed debris aside and crawled forward, blood running down his arm. The air was thick with smoke and static; every breath burned his throat.
Then he saw her — Riley — lying a few meters away, motionless under a fallen beam.
"Riley!" He stumbled toward her, forcing the beam aside. She groaned weakly as her eyes fluttered open.
"You alive?" he asked, voice hoarse.
"Unfortunately," she managed, coughing. "Feels like a truck hit me."
Ethan let out a shaky laugh — part relief, part disbelief. "That's one way to put it."
They sat for a moment in the stillness. The city around them was gone — nothing but twisted metal and smoldering concrete. The air shimmered with heat from the underground blast.
Riley finally spoke. "What about Royce? The core?"
Ethan stared at the crater. "They're gone."
A silence hung between them. The kind that feels like mourning.
After a while, Riley stood, wobbling a little. "We can't stay here. The radiation, the fire… we need to find shelter."
Ethan nodded and followed her through the rubble. Each step echoed in the empty streets like ghosts following behind.
They passed the remains of what used to be a freeway. Cars were flipped, melted, fused together by heat. The city was dead — but somewhere in the distance, a faint humming noise broke the silence.
Riley froze. "You hear that?"
"Yeah." Ethan raised his rifle. "Let's move careful."
They followed the sound to what used to be a metro tunnel entrance. The stairs were cracked, half-collapsed, but the faint hum came from below.
"Underground again," Riley muttered. "I hate that word."
Ethan smirked faintly. "You preferred the surface? Look around."
They descended, flashlights flickering across graffiti-covered walls. Rats scurried across the debris. The deeper they went, the louder the hum became — rhythmic, mechanical.
At the bottom, they found something half-buried in rubble: a metal hatch with a glowing blue outline.
Riley crouched beside it. "Still has power."
Ethan knelt and brushed away dust, revealing a familiar logo burned into the steel:
> MISTRY LABS – AUX NODE
Riley sighed. "Of course. They always have a backup."
Ethan exhaled slowly. "We open it?"
She looked at him, then at the hatch. "You really need to ask?"
Together, they turned the wheel lock. It creaked open with a hiss. Cold air spilled out — cleaner, somehow.
Inside was a narrow corridor, lights flickering dimly. The hum was louder now.
They stepped in. The door closed behind them with a heavy clang.
Riley's flashlight caught the words stenciled on the wall:
> Project Mistry – Phase II / Data Vault
Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Phase two? What does that even mean?"
Ethan said nothing. He just moved forward, every nerve in his body tight with unease.
The corridor led to a small control room. Consoles lined the walls, powered by some kind of backup generator. And in the center — a single terminal, screen still glowing faintly green.
Ethan brushed the dust off and tapped the keyboard.
The monitor flickered, and a voice recording began to play — static-filled but clear.
> "Dr. Alan Royce, Log 52-B. If you're hearing this, it means I failed to contain the breach. But maybe not everything is lost."
Ethan and Riley exchanged glances.
> "Project Mistry was never about infection control," the recording continued. "It was about replication. We wanted to copy consciousness — store it, transfer it, control it. We thought if we could command the infected, we could save humanity."
Riley muttered, "Guess that didn't work out."
> "We succeeded," Royce's voice said. "But the copies learned faster than we expected. They realized they didn't need us. Liam Cole… he wasn't a mistake. He was the first. The others will follow."
Ethan froze. "Others?"
The recording crackled.
> "If you survived the blast, listen carefully. There's a secondary network buried under the city. I couldn't destroy it — it's self-sustaining, learning, adapting. If it wakes, it won't stop at Los Angeles."
Riley looked at Ethan, eyes wide. "He means—"
> "You have to find the failsafe," Royce said. "It's in Sector 9. My access key is encoded in this message."
Static swallowed the last words. Then silence.
Ethan sat back slowly. "Sector 9…"
Riley shook her head. "I thought the whole sector was gone."
"It was," Ethan said. "At least, above ground."
The hum in the walls suddenly deepened — slower, heavier. Like something breathing.
Riley turned her flashlight toward the far wall. "Did you feel that?"
Before Ethan could respond, the lights flickered violently.
A low, guttural sound echoed from the tunnel behind them.
Ethan raised his rifle, heart pounding. "That's not the generator."
A faint light pulsed through the floor — like veins glowing beneath the concrete.
Then, a metallic voice whispered through the speakers:
> "Evolution does not die."
Riley's blood ran cold. "That voice…"
Ethan stepped back, shaking his head. "Liam's dead. I saw him—"
> "Death is only data," the voice said. "And data never sleeps."
Every console came alive at once, screens flashing with streams of code. The hum grew louder, shaking dust from the ceiling.
Riley grabbed Ethan's arm. "We have to go—now!"
They ran back toward the hatch. The corridor lights turned blood-red.
A deafening metallic screech echoed behind them — machinery tearing through walls. Something massive moved in the dark, dragging steel across concrete.
Ethan slammed his hand against the exit wheel. "Come on, come on!"
The hatch opened. They burst out into the open metro tunnel, gasping.