"La Sangre Nera deals with the survivors. Quietly."
Adrian felt something cold settle deep in his chest, spreading outward like ice through his veins. "So there's no mercy. No second chances. Just disposable labor and calculated profit margins."
Marcus nodded grimly. "Welcome to Nexo's employee benefits program."
Adrian turned to the next section, though honestly part of him wanted to stop reading entirely. But he couldn't afford ignorance. Not now.
[SECTION: PROJECT ASCENDANT — ENHANCEMENT SERUM PROGRAM]
Stated Objective: Transform the human body into an optimized soldier platform, operating beyond natural physiological limitations.
Mechanism: Forced cellular overclocking resulting in rapid, uncontrolled growth of muscle tissue and neural system enhancement.
Casualty Rate: 99.7% (effective survival probability: 0.03%)
Documented Results:
Catastrophic Collapse: Subjects experience massive internal hemorrhaging, cardiac rupture, multi-organ failure. Death typically occurs within 3-6 hours of injection
.
Mutation: Physical transformation into unstable biological forms. Common variants include shambling "zombie" types with zero cognitive function, or hypertrophic "giant" forms driven purely by aggressive impulses.
Containment Protocol: La Sangre Nera enforcement units routinely eliminate experimental failures in underground laboratory facilities.
Translation: Nexo promises super-soldiers. Reality delivers mountains of corpses and biological nightmares that require immediate termination.
Adrian's cigarette had burned down to nothing but ash between his fingers without him even noticing. He stubbed it out with considerably more force than necessary.
"So ninety-nine point seven percent die," he said slowly, letting each word land with deliberate weight.
"And the lucky point zero three percent who survive..." He looked up, something dark and almost haunted flickering in his eyes. "What do they become? Broken tools? Walking weapons? Both?"
Marcus's jaw tightened visibly. "The survivors are unstable. Physically enhanced, yes, but mentally fractured. They're not useful for long. And they're certainly not controllable."
Elias's hands clenched into fists on the desk, knuckles going bone-white. "They're manufacturing a weapon that kills its own user. Every single time."
"Except," Adrian added, his tone gone flat and dangerous, "they keep trying anyway. Because eventually, maybe they'll get it right. And then what?"
He took a breath. "An army of chemically lobotomized super-soldiers with the life expectancy of a mayfly."
He lit another cigarette, because apparently his hands needed something to do that wasn't punching through the desk. "You know, nothing says 'ethical pharmaceutical research' quite like a ninety-nine percent fatality rate and having organized crime on speed dial for body disposal."
[SECTION: VIRAL STRAINS —
CONFIRMED SAMPLES]
(Additional strains suspected but unverified through available samples)
HX-13 "Reaper"
Primary Effect: Liquefies living tissue from the inside out through aggressive cellular breakdown.
Casualty Rate: 99.9%
Treatment Options: None confirmed. Rumors of an unstable experimental antidote remain unverified.
Notes: Death is excruciating and typically occurs within 24-36 hours of exposure. Subjects remain conscious throughout most of the process.
VX-7 "Goliath"
Primary Effect: Triggers exponential muscle growth and severe skeletal distortion.
Casualty Rate: 99.8%
Survivors: Exhibit extreme violence, severe brain damage, complete loss of higher cognitive function. Effectively weaponized biological entities without control mechanisms.
Notes: Early-stage purchases confirmed from law enforcement agencies and private military contractors under the belief these are "safe enhancement options."
They are not remotely ready for any form of deployment. If released to general populations, predictive models suggest global outbreak scenarios within 2-3 weeks.
Adrian stared at the two strain designations, feeling genuine nausea rise in his throat for the first time in years. His hands had started trembling slightly. He clenched them to make it stop.
"Law enforcement is actually buying this?" His voice cracked just slightly. "They genuinely believe they can turn beat cops into controlled weapons?"
Marcus nodded, expression grim. "Through private channels, yes. They think they're getting safe, regulated enhancement compounds. They have absolutely no idea what they're actually purchasing."
Elias closed his eyes briefly, then opened them with visible effort. "If even one of these vials gets loose in a major population center, we're not looking at a local crisis. We're looking at city-wide catastrophe. Possibly worse."
Adrian forced himself to breathe evenly. "So we've established that Nexo is basically speedrunning the apocalypse. Fantastic. Really excellent work, everyone." The sarcasm was sharp enough to cut. "I'm sure there's a corporate bonus structure for 'most efficient path to human extinction.'"
[SECTION: DISTRIBUTION & COVER-UP OPERATIONS]
Enhancement serums and viral agents remain in pre-market development phase.
Current Buyers: Law enforcement agencies, paramilitary organizations, private security firms, select government entities (specifics redacted).
Failure Management: Mafia-affiliated clean-up crews dispose of failed test subjects. Families receive "accidental workplace death" settlements with comprehensive non-disclosure agreements.
Official Company Statement: "Tragic health benefits program accidents."
[FINAL ASSESSMENT]
Nexo Pharmaceutical's corporate empire is constructed entirely on the systematic sacrifice of its lowest-tier employees.
Their so-called "miracle science" consists of unstable experimental compounds with casualty rates exceeding 99%.
Primary beneficiaries: Nexo's founding executives, private investors, and contracted criminal organizations managing evidence disposal.
STATUS: ACTIVE OPERATIONS
Threat Level: EXTINCTION-CLASS
The folder snapped shut between them with a sound like a coffin lid closing. Final and absolute.
Adrian sat perfectly still for a long moment, processing everything he'd just read. Then he looked up at Elias, and neither of them spoke. What was there to say, really? The documentation spoke for itself.
Marcus stepped forward, breaking the heavy silence. His voice was low but surprisingly steady, steadier than Adrian would've expected from a man with a 7% survival probability.
"There's a window," Marcus said carefully. "West wing guard rotations. Every night from 1:00 to 1:45 AM, there's a blind spot in coverage. The security post goes completely unmanned. It's our only viable entry point."
He pulled out a small schematic, spreading it across the desk and tapping specific sections with a finger that only trembled slightly. "The archives are located in Vault A-13. The access corridors have pressure-sensitive floor plates calibrated to trigger alarms at 100 pounds of weight. I can temporarily patch the SentinelGrid system to accept up to 200 pounds of distributed weight."
He looked up, meeting their eyes directly. "The patch will hold for exactly 2,700 seconds. Forty-five minutes."
Marcus paused, letting that sink in. "After that, it resets automatically. No warnings. No grace period. Just instant alarm activation."
Elias's jaw clenched so hard Adrian could hear teeth grinding. "Two hundred pounds maximum. Furniture pathways only. Absolutely zero margin for error."
His voice was tight, controlled. "If that patch fails even one second early—"
"Sirens go off immediately," Marcus interjected. "Full facility lockdown within thirty seconds. At that point, extraction becomes nearly impossible." He took a breath. "I can trigger a phantom security alert on Level 2 to split their response teams. Create confusion. It'll buy maybe two minutes of chaos. Maybe."
Adrian's grin was sharp, weary, and completely unhinged. "One person. Light and fast. I'll travel like I'm trying to make weight for a flyweight boxing match. Hell, I'll leave my belt behind if it helps."
Elias stared at him for what felt like an eternity, visibly weighing catastrophic risks against operational necessity. Lives against information. "This is completely reckless, Adrian."
"It's also the only clean shot we're going to get this week," Marcus replied quietly but firmly. "If we wait, they'll patch the security gap or rotate the guard schedules. This window closes permanently after tonight." He met Elias's eyes. "If you want to strike at the operational heart of Nexo, you can't afford to wait for a safer opportunity that's never going to come."
Tense silence filled the office like smoke filling a sealed room. Outside, somewhere in the city beyond these walls, life continued. People went about their days completely unaware that their world might be ending in slow motion similar to that of an slowly dying light bulb.
Elias shifted his gaze slowly between Marcus and Adrian, then let out a long, heavy exhale surrender or command, honestly impossible to tell which.
"Majority decision," Elias finally said, voice flat and final. "You want tonight? Fine. We move tonight."
Before Elias could reconsider or Adrian could let himself think too hard about survival statistics, Adrian stood decisively. He flicked his cigarette into the ashtray, watching the ember glow briefly before dying completely.
"Midnight preparation," Adrian said, his voice taking on that clipped professional tone he used for actual operations. "We meet at South Metro at exactly 00:00 hours. We move at 00:59:30 for the system patch. Entry at 01:00 sharp."
He looked between them, memorizing their faces just in case. "I handle infiltration solo light, fast, minimal equipment. No backup. No cavalry. Marcus, you manage the technical patch and trigger the diversion alert at exactly 01:02. Elias—" He met the captain's eyes directly. "You coordinate extraction once I signal. Clean, simple, professional."
Elias nodded once. Just once. But it was the kind of nod that carried the weight of inevitable after-action reports and quite possibly memorial services.
Marcus's hands trembled slightly, but he forced them steady through what looked like pure willpower. "Understood."
Adrian stepped out of the office, folder tucked securely under his arm, his strides long and deliberate and final-sounding. The hallway felt colder than it should have, the fluorescent lights flickering slightly overhead like even the electricity was uncertain about what came next.
The city already felt smaller somehow, like it was starting to fold in on itself under the weight of what was coming.
He found the stairwell—always the stairs, never the elevators—and lit a fresh cigarette halfway down. The smoke curled upward toward the buzzing lights, and Adrian felt the countdown beginning in his mind like a bomb timer he couldn't stop.
Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.
Midnight was coming.
And with it, answers
Or death.
Probably both, if he was being honest with himself.
The city sprawled below through the narrow stairwell window, lights twinkling like it had no idea what lived in its shadows.
"Well," Adrian muttered to himself, voice echoing in the empty stairwell, "at least it'll be interesting."