Zayn’s eyes flickered open to the soft hum of medical equipment. A dull, sterile light bathed the small infirmary room, and the sharp scent of antiseptic filled the air. His entire body felt like it had been run over by a truck.


    He groaned and tried to sit up—only to sneeze loudly.


    “Bless you,” a voice mumbled.


    Zayn blinked, his vision still blurry. A girl was sitting nearby, leaning back in her chair with a gaming console in her hands. Her legs were casually propped up on the side of the bed, eyes glued to the screen.


    “Oh… so that’s how grenades work,” she muttered to herself before sighing in satisfaction.


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    Zayn furrowed his brows, trying to place her face. Then it hit him—the bomber girl. The one who had thrown the grenade back in that ruined building.


    “Where am I?” he croaked.


    The girl paused her game and looked up. “Oh, you’re awake. Welcome to S.K.O.R.P.I.O. Safehouse Infirmary.” She stretched her arms lazily. “You’re here because you saw something ordinary people shouldn’t.”


    Zayn exhaled and rubbed his temple. His head was still pounding, but memories were slowly resurfacing—the strange creatures, the weird creature and the explosion.


    The girl continued, shutting off her console. “We ran into something nasty back there. And that thing? Wasn’t alone. We detected another one closing in fast, so we had to retreat. You were out cold the whole time.”


    She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Lucky for you, Captain syafiq decided to bring you in. Said you looked young and might be useful.”


    Zayn scoffed weakly. “I’m only 18.”


    The girl raised an eyebrow, smirking. “18? Huh. Thought you were, like, 20.”


    Zayn rolled his eyes and exhaled. His mind was still foggy, but one word kept repeating in his head. Something he had heard before blacking out.


    “…I think I heard you say something called SCORPIO?”