The elevator hummed as it descended into the bowels of the underground complex, lights flickering faintly. Evelyn led the way, heels clicking with measured authority against the steel floor. Behind her, Dr. Calloway followed, carrying the metal case with instruments humming softly, each device feeling alive under his hands.
The lab emerged from the shadows, immaculate and sterile. White walls gleamed under fluorescent lights, instruments lined up with precision, and at the center, a reinforced table awaited. Evelyn's eyes scanned the room with predatory certainty.
"All ready?" she asked, voice smooth, deliberate.
"Yes, everything is ready," Calloway said aloud.
Evelyn stepped closer to the table, inspecting the setup. "Good. No mistakes tonight."
Calloway's hands hovered over the instruments, but his mind churned. He's supposed to be gone… The words echoed in his head. But what if he isn't? What if Crowe faked his death? If this is true… and the experiment proceeds…
He swallowed hard, closing his thoughts. He would not speak them. Evelyn could never know the seed of doubt planted in his mind. Hesitation could be deadly here.
Evelyn continued, voice calm, almost conversational, "Let's proceed. Begin the sequence."
Calloway obeyed, moving with precise motions, gloved hands placing instruments carefully. Every device hummed as he activated them, and yet, beneath the professional exterior, his mind raced. If Crowe really is alive… if he's been pretending… there could still be hope… hope for her… hope for Evelyn…
A tension coiled in his stomach. He didn't speak it aloud. He couldn't. Evelyn's focus was absolute, her control unwavering. She didn't tolerate interruptions — not from him, not from anyone.
The hum of the machinery grew louder. Lights flickered slightly as the energy from the devices pulsed, reflecting off the polished steel. Calloway's fingers lingered over a dial, almost hesitating for the briefest moment.
If he's truly gone, this is routine. But if he's alive… I could be about to erase everything without her even knowing…
Evelyn glanced at him, eyes sharp. "Begin."
"Yes," Calloway whispered, hiding the tremor in his mind beneath calm professionalism.
He worked in silence, each step measured, each instrument placed perfectly. And all the while, a quiet thought haunted him, locked behind steel and sterile walls:
If James Crowe is alive, if he's faking… maybe there's still a chance for Evelyn to come back. But she must never know I thought this. She must never know.
The machines hummed louder, lights reflecting across the metal, as the first pulse of the experiment surged. Evelyn's attention remained fixed, unyielding, and Calloway's inner conflict remained unspoken, invisible to her.
He followed her orders perfectly. But inside, he wondered what they were really about to unleash.
And somewhere in the hum of the devices, in the shadows of the secret lab beneath the White House, the first stirrings of life began to respond.
The hum of machinery filled the lab, pulsing through every polished surface. Lights flickered with a steady rhythm, reflecting off instruments that seemed almost alive. Evelyn's focus was absolute, her eyes scanning every gauge, every meter.
Calloway's gloved fingers lingered over the final switch, hesitation hidden behind professional calm. If he wakes up like this… all memories gone… even of her… The thought twisted in his gut. I can't risk it.
He pressed the switch. The power cut abruptly, plunging the lab into dim emergency lighting. The machines fell silent. The instruments that hummed like living things went dark.
"What—" Evelyn's head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing, jaw tightening.
"The system… it must have tripped," Calloway said smoothly, voice calm, as though describing a minor inconvenience. "Looks like a power outage."
Evelyn's sharp gaze pierced him. "A power outage? Now?"
Calloway swallowed, keeping his tone neutral. "Better safe than… losing him entirely. From what I observed, if he wakes up now, he will… fully lose his memories. Everything. Even… you."
Evelyn's eyes blazed, sudden fury igniting. She stepped back from the table, the echo of her heels striking the floor like a warning. "You—what did you just say?"
Calloway's hands stayed raised in placation. "I didn't— It's… protocol. For safety. You know I'm cautious."
"You call this cautious?" Her voice was low, controlled, but lethal. "You're talking about erasing him… about erasing me from his mind!"
Calloway felt the weight of her anger, the dangerous precision in her movements as she circled the lab. "I—Evelyn, I thought—"
"Thought?" she snapped, cutting him off. Her eyes flicked toward the table, at the still, silent form beneath the covers. "I trusted you. I trusted you to follow my instructions, not to sabotage what I've worked for!"
Calloway's throat tightened. She has no idea I'm trying to save her—
Evelyn spun on her heel, walking toward the lab exit, her coat swaying like a storm. Her voice carried over her steps, sharp and cold. "I'll handle this myself. I don't need you to decide who remembers and who doesn't."
Calloway watched her go, the door sliding shut with a hiss. He exhaled, the tension in his shoulders releasing slightly. Alone now, he stared at the darkened equipment. It's done. At least for now… she still has a chance. But if Crowe is alive… this is just the beginning.
The lab settled into eerie silence, lights dimmed, machines quiet, and beneath the sterile table, something shifted ever so slightly—a subtle twitch of a gloved hand, or perhaps a pulse of air, as though the sleeper had sensed the change.
Calloway knew: the game had only just begun.