Xander moved through the dark corridor at an unhurried pace, his bare feet making almost no sound against the cold, metallic floor. He wasn''t particularly worried about being caught, nor was he in any particular rush. Every now and then, he stopped, looking at his surroundings, trying to gauge whether he was still heading in the right direction.


    In hindsight, maybe he should have taken that digital pad with the map on it. But that thought was fleeting. Instead, he focused on something far more interesting—what exactly he would do once he got out.


    The sheer number of possibilities was amusing to him. His stomach clenched at the thought of eating real food for the first time in over a decade. What did it even taste like? He tried to recall the meals the guards sometimes mentioned in their idle chatter—something called ''steak'' and ''beer,'' whatever those were.


    Then there were clothes. He''d seen the Ugly Doc and Fat Doc wear different ones under their coats every day. Did people just... own different sets of them? Was it something you just picked up somewhere? He wasn''t sure since the Old Doc always wore the same thing.


    But then, the most thrilling thought of all struck him—assaulting people.


    The struggle, the rush, the uncertainty of who would come out on top. A grin crept onto his face as he recalled the feeling of his hands around that guard''s throat, the way the man had begged, the way his strength had meant nothing in the end. Xander had struggled, sure, but that only made it more exhilarating. He had taken a life with nothing but his own two hands. If fighting felt that good, he needed more. Maybe he''d just start picking fights when he got outside. It wasn''t like he had anything better to do.


    Lost in his musings, he nearly slammed into a wall. A dead end. He stared at it blankly before clicking his tongue. "Well, that''s annoying," he muttered before turning on his heel. Maybe reading was something he should prioritize once he got out. The map would have been more useful if he could actually understand it.


    That was when something caught his eye—red arrows painted onto the walls, all pointing away from the dead end. He raised a brow. Why the hell were there arrows? Did the guards get lost often enough to need directions? That was pathetic. But what bothered him more was the color. Red. That color had been lucky for him so far, but this? This felt like a warning.


    He clicked his tongue again, shaking off the unease. It didn''t matter. What mattered was finding his way out of this damn facility. The world outside was waiting for him.


    ***


    Meanwhile, at the laboratory,


    The guards stood tense in front of the steel door, weapons ready. The lead guard, an older, battle-worn man, raised his hand, signaling them to remain on high alert. He exhaled slowly, then moved forward, pressing a code into the panel beside the door. With a heavy hiss, it slid open.


    The scene inside was nothing short of horrifying.


    Blood splattered the walls, pooling on the floor in grotesque smears. The once sterile laboratory now resembled a slaughterhouse. The six guards who had been sent in earlier were all present, huddled together, their bodies shaking as if they''d been left in freezing temperatures. Their weapons lay forgotten on the ground, their eyes were filled with terror.


    The older guard''s voice was sharp. "Eyes up! Watch the walls!"


    The guards tensed, raising their weapons, sweeping the room for any signs of movement. Silence reigned. The only sound was the ragged breathing of the shivering men. Minutes passed, but nothing happened.


    Finally, one of the guards spoke. "Sir, it''s just them. No sign of Subject XA-777."


    The lead guard frowned, stepping further into the room. His boots squelched against something wet. He looked down. A corpse. A body crumpled beside the surgical bed. He crouched down, his fingers brushing over the pristine white lab coat. The Old Researcher.


    Stolen story; please report.


    "Strangled to death," he muttered to himself, noting the telltale bruising around the man''s throat. His brows furrowed. He had expected the blood in the room to belong to him, but from what he saw that was not the case. The researcher had been strangled to death, whatever had caused all that bloodshed and trails on the wall definitely did not go through something nice.


    "Sir!" One of the guards called, holding up a digital pad. "We found this near the operating table. The screen''s still on."


    The lead guard stood and took the pad, glancing at the screen. His frown deepened. It was still displaying the security alarm panel.


    The elder guard narrowed his eyes at the screen, his gut twisting in suspicion. The idea that XA-777 had triggered the alarm himself gnawed at him. It didn’t make sense. None of the Test Subjects were ever taught how to operate basic machinery—this was a strict protocol, ensuring they couldn’t manipulate the facility’s systems if they ever attempted escape. And XA-777? That pathetic wretch? He shouldn’t have even known what the button was for.


    Before he could voice his thoughts, a nervous voice crackled over the intercom, startling the guards. It was the new hire—the one who had first raised the alarm when the security siren blared through the facility.


    “Uhm… Sir? Is everything alright? I—I mean, I heard shouting earlier. I wasn’t sure if I should—uh—contact the director or—”


    “Just tell me what the hell happened,” the elder guard snapped impatiently.


    The young voice fumbled, clearly rattled. “R-Right! After we got the request for XA-777’s recovery fluid, there was a long silence from inside the lab. At first, I thought the Doctor was just—uh—doing tests or something. But then, we picked up faint voices. It wasn’t clear, and there was no visual inside, so we tried calling in to confirm the status. No response. And then, the next thing we knew, the alarm went off. We immediately sent out the alert for all guards to deploy.”


    The elder guard’s lips pressed into a thin line as realization dawned on him. That cunning little bastard. It wasn’t the Doctor who called them. It was XA-777’s own doing. It must have forced the Old Researcher to trigger the alarm for him somehow, that could be the only explanation.


    And judging by the time that had already passed, the subject could be anywhere by now.


    Just as he opened his mouth to give new orders, a voice interrupted him from behind.


    “No need to worry.”


    The elder guard turned sharply, immediately recognizing the figure standing at the entrance to the lab. A tall man in a pristine white lab coat similar to the Old Researcher''s, his presence demanding immediate attention. The moment their eyes met, the elder guard’s spine stiffened.


    The man smirked, stepping forward with an air of absolute confidence. “XA-777 won’t get far.”


    ***


    Meanwhile on our protagonist''s end,


    Xander had continued to roam through the corridors for a while and soon he had to accept that he would need to follow those arrows if he wanted to get anywhere.


    "Damn, those doctor freaks! I''m sure my memory would be better if they had stuck so many needles inside all the time," he said as he made his way around a corner.


    The moment Xander stepped through the next corridor, he felt it—a subtle shift in the air. A whisper of something unfamiliar brushed against his skin. His feet slowed. His fingers twitched. What was that?


    Wind.


    For the first time in his life, Xander was feeling real, open air.


    A strange thrill shot through his veins, and he picked up his pace. As he walked, the air grew cooler, fresher. Then, suddenly, the walls opened up into a vast, dark expanse.


    Xander stepped out—and froze.


    The world stretched out before him, endless and breathtaking. A cliffside beneath the vast night sky, the land sprawling far below in dark shapes—forests, hills, distant lights flickering faintly in the depths of the horizon. The sky above was littered with countless stars, each one shining like an unclaimed jewel, far beyond his reach. The air was cold, crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and distant trees.


    For the first time in his life, he was seeing it.


    The outside world.


    A sharp breath left his lips as he took a shaky step forward, his eyes darting across every inch of the view before him. He had imagined it so many times. Dreamed of it. And yet… somehow, it was still more than he had ever expected. His fingers clenched at his sides. His body trembled, not from fear, but from the sheer overwhelming weight of it all.


    It was real.


    He was free.


    A breathless laugh bubbled up from his throat, and he leaned forward, placing his foot right at the edge of the cliff. He peered down, taking in the vast drop beneath him, the land stretching out into unknown possibilities.


    “…Hah.” He let out a chuckle, shaking his head. “That’s it? That’s the whole world? Kinda unimpressive.”


    He knew it was a lie. It was far more than anything he had ever known.


    But as he stood there, drinking it all in, a voice shattered his moment of peace.


    “I expected you would be more enthusiastic about being outside, XA-777?”


    Xander’s body tensed, his head snapping around.


    Standing at the entrance of the cave, a large group of guards aimed their rifles at him, their expressions cold and unmoving. But in front of them all, one figure stood out. A man in a white coat.


    A very ugly man in a white coat.


    The Ugly Doc.