The room went cold. The "Red File" didn't just contain text; it contained a video log.
Adrien hit 'Play.' A holographic projection appeared in the center of the room. It showed a sterile lab. A man in a white coat—Director Thorne—stood over a slumped figure in a chair.
"Subject 04 is showing increased cognitive load," Thorne's voice was clinical. "The Catalyst agent has successfully bridged the synaptic gap. We can now input commands directly into the motor cortex. The subject is no longer a person. It is an extension of the network."
The "subject" in the chair lifted its head. Its eyes were glowing a dull, rhythmic green—exactly like the code Adrien had seen on his monitor.
"That's not science," Adrien whispered, his face pale. "That's slavery."
"It's worse," Lily said, her usual cheer nowhere to be found. She scrolled down the metadata. "The 'Chemistry' they were looking for... it's a soul-swap. They want to upload the consciousness of the Directors into younger, 'enhanced' bodies. They aren't building a weapon. They're building immortality."
"And Sector 4 is where the final 'upload' is happening," Ashley realized, her voice trembling with rage. "They're using the waste from the old plant to power the server banks."
"Wait," Leon said, pointing to a line of text at the bottom of the log. "Recommended Host for Phase 4: See Appendix A."
Adrien clicked the link. A photo popped up.
It was a picture of Adrien. And next to it, a picture of Ashley.
"They aren't just hunting us to stop us," Adrien realized, the weight of the truth hitting him like a physical blow. "They're hunting us because they want our bodies."
The "Operation: Chemistry" wasn't a project name. It was a shopping list.