《THE BROKEN SONG》 Fuorviare (Prologue) This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author¡¯s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. CONTENT WARNING The content of this novel may be disturbing to some. Mentions of topics of mature nature, such as (but not limited to) mental health, eating disorders, self harm, and abuse are present in some chapters. Chapters will still contain Trigger Warnings (TWs) at the beginning, should there be the need. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.
fuorviare [fwor-vyah-reh] v. (from Italian: fuori "out, outside" + via "way, path") Indeed, the path they had taken led them astray. Everything has its beginning: a book, a song, a life¨Ceven disasters. And this disaster began in 2013. The Chelyabinsk Meteor. That¡¯s what they called it, even though it fell into Lake Chebarkul. A messenger from the sky¨Can omen. Usually, those who are religious enough would see this as a beautiful thing, as if God himself sent something to remind humanity of its place. Scientists, of course, saw something else entirely: a rare cosmic gift. 540 kg of meteorite, made of ordinary chondrite. A piece of our solar system¡¯s history, right on our doorstep. One might imagine astronomers salivating over all the secrets they could uncover through such a find. Sure, we know more about space now than we did years ago. But we also know that space is so vast that we get to learn, or rediscover, something new every day. While researchers obsessed over the meteorite, something else was happening in that same place. Local reports started mentioning weird behavior from the wildlife in the area. At first, it was subtle, then it changed. They were much more aggressive, erratic, mad. Some scientists had suspected radiation. Others thought it was a panic response due to the aftermath of the impact¡¯s shockwave. And yet again, humans were wrong. The tests from both the lake water and the wildlife came. A prion. A misfolded protein, capable of transmitting its form to other proteins. Something so small, unseen and lethal. At first they thought it was a case of Chronic Wasting Disease¨C or Zombie Deer disease, as many call it. But no, oh no. This was something new. A new prion. Something that was there, in the lake, for longer than we expected. Right on the soil, for who knows how many centuries, maybe even millenia. And the messenger from the sky? It just unearthed that hidden secret. We won¡¯t know if it was supposed to be a blessing given out by the Almighty. We won¡¯t know if it was supposed to be a warning. And for sure, we won¡¯t know if it was supposed to be the sounding of the third trumpet. Ironic, isn¡¯t it? Like in the Bible. ¡°And the third angel sounded, and there fell a great star from heaven, burning as it were a lamp, and it fell upon the third part of the rivers, and upon the fountains of waters; And the name of the star is called Wormwood: and the third part of the waters became wormwood; and many men died of the waters, because they were made bitter.¡± Well¡­ something along those lines, after all. And obviously, humans had to do their usual move: the hunger for knowledge and discovery was too demanding. The Russian government had issued a classified order to close up the Lake to anyone. They used the cover of the meteorite recovery operations. In reality, it was all because of that single protein. This wasn¡¯t something about containment, nor recovery. ¡®Twas about opportunity. And, at that same time¡­ they had started it. The Project. They called it ¡°Project K¡±. Some called it ¡°Project 119¡±. To the few who whispered its true purpose, it had another name: ¡°Project PANDORA¡±: how fitting of a name. A black operation, something out of the schemes. Something only the Big Ones at the Kremlin knew about. The objective? To study the prion, see how it acted on humans. Then came the phases. Four of them. The first, Phase Theta, was animal testing. Rats, deers, monkeys even. So many of them, used just to test the effect of this protein. And the discovery was¡­ astonishing. It seemed as if the disease would initially enhance the brain capabilities of the infected. It¡¯s almost as if they were¡­ smarter than normal. Due to this, two competing factions within the project emerged. One saw the prion as a perfect bioweapon. With the right modifications, it could become a lethal WMD, capable of rivaling many others. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. The other, instead, thought of weaponizing not the prion¡­ but those infected. What if the prion could be modified to keep its enhancing abilities and apply a controlled exposure? Both decided to gamble with destiny. And this gamble led them to testing on human beings. Phase Xi. Soldiers, volunteers, prisoners from jails. They were promised things: money, freedom. So easy to bend a human mind, isn¡¯t it? With just a few promises, they are willing to swan dive to hell itself to just receive those rewards. But those? Those were empty words. Nine hundred and sixty adults. And the casualty rate hit one hundred percent. Their deaths were covered as "training accidents" or "natural causes". And yet, they had made new discoveries. The prion really did enhance one¡¯s brain at first. It was a small peak, right after incubation. The subjects suddenly were smarter, they had more concentration. This was like a daydream: imagine the possibilities. This would¡¯ve been so easily the start of something new. Something big. The creation of our very own ¡®Novi Homines¡¯, even. But no. It wasn¡¯t enough. They needed more. Wanted more. And so, Phase Tau arrived. This time it was teenagers. Seven hundred and thirty poor, young souls. Orphans from government-run orphanages. This made everything easier for the project. Easily disposable, easily hidden. They were forgotten and forsaken, even by their own country. The researchers thought that developing brains might better adapt to the prion. They were right¡­ to a degree. And those young souls also died. All of them. Yes, the enhancements were more persistent: they lasted two weeks more than the adults. Yet, they all went into psychosis. Some even had strokes. Strokes. At seventeen. At sixteen. Some were as young as twelve. So many dead. This felt like not a dream, but a nightmare. A vivid nightmare. Expectations were growing higher from the leadership. From the government. The Kremlin needed results. And the Project would give them. At whatever cost. By this time, other countries heard of this project. An all-out war was the last thing people needed. So, what did the Leaders decide? Why not get involved? This would give each country plausible deniability, while at the same time the project would have more: covert infrastructure. Funding. New sites in other countries to speed up the research. It looked promising: but again, they had one more chance. The last shot, so to say, before moving ahead with engineering this gift. Then¡­ they came. The Chimeras. Thanks to Phase Omega. A number of couples were selected for this phase. Some willingly, others not so much. They thought that maybe the prion needed to develop along its host. Maybe an embryo. And so, they decided to do it. Injection. Usually between the third and fifth week of gestation. Right when the body¡¯s still trying to figure out what genes to keep on, and which to keep off. And this allowed the prion to sneak in, interfering with the process. Genes that usually were silent¡ªjunk DNA, as we call it¡ªsuddenly activated again. For now, it all seemed like it was working. Time passed, and so the first children were born. The first Chimeras. They weren¡¯t totally human, nor completely alien. They were in between. Their bodies were different, in any way possible. Their metabolism was faster, had better reflexes and mobility to a certain degree. And their immune systems were slightly stronger than normal humans. But even under that guise of perfection, they had to pay a price: scars that remained, cramps, heavy migraines, and autoimmune responses. They weren¡¯t so perfect, weren¡¯t they? They weren¡¯t normal children at all. They would never get the chance to know their parents. Never feel the embrace of a mother, or a father. They would never see the sun. Never see the blue sky. Just those white, fluorescent lights in the facility they were born into. But amidst all of this¡­ something happened to the outside. A reckoning. And this time, Pandora¡¯s Box indeed was opened, its curses released upon mankind. The Second Kyshtym Disaster. An explosion at the MAYAK Facility. The same site in which the faction that wanted to weaponize the prion was conducting its tests. We still do not know if it happened on purpose, or if it was an accident. We will never know. But the result was the same. ¡°Containment failure¡± And that? That was the beginning of the end. It spread. First in Russia. Then Kazakhstan. Then moved toward Europe. And so it went, slowly but surely. It wasn¡¯t immediate. Oh no, it took its time. A person first. Then another. Then another. And another one again. It infected many. Humans. Rats. Dogs. Cats. Even bats. All mammals were at risk. Then they started. The quarantines. The skirmishes. Cities walled off, creating the Dead Zones. The remnants of the Old Cities. And along with them, the Burn Zones. Gigantic bonfires of melted flesh and wood. All to safeguard the few lucky survivors outside of the Dead Zones. It was like the Middle Ages. Like the Black Plague in its new, shining, and terrible armor. Even though it¡¯s totally different here, from a biological standpoint. And yet, deep underground, the scientists remained. Their research continued. More children were born, thanks to survivors from the chaos above who were lured in the safety of the underground labs. Some kids, few of them, were even born through artificial means. A total of seventy Chimeras lived. Slowly but surely, experiments were ongoing. Some died. Some survived. The scientists wanted to find a solution to what they had done at MAYAK and maybe, just maybe, the very own children, the very own abominations they had created and shaped would be the answer. Years passed. Mother Earth took back what was hers, slowly. God, or whoever is up above, left. Or maybe He died along with the many sons and daughters he had. Hell, maybe there was no God to begin with. And the humans? They changed, too. No higher being to grapple to, no purpose. No self. They were like savages. No, not savages. It was something more. They were¡­ animals. Simple, wild, rabid animals. That¡¯s what they really were, after all. What they always have been. And the Chimeras? They grew, sealed away from the apocalypse above on the Surface. Of the seventy, only forty seven survived. The oldests were seventeen years old. The youngest was just three. In all of their useless lives, they knew one color: white. Like the walls, the lights, the coat worn by the researchers and the doctors. All they had read about the Old World was in the few scrappy books they were given. Children who had never seen the sky, never seen the sun, never felt the wind on their faces¡­ and furthermore, children that never felt love. Forsaken. Forgotten. Simply broken marionettes. The only thing they felt was their very own existence falling apart, like a house of cards hit by the wind. They were ticking bombs: they all knew. They were told right away, since the start. Of them, nothing would remain but an empty shell, drooling and chewing on its tongue. It was a matter of time, after all. And now, some of you may wonder what this is all about. See, my dear readers¡­ This is a prologue, an introduction to a story. Their story, that of seven Chimeras. Seven reminders of humanity¡¯s despair, seven remnants of a dying experiment against a brave new world. A monolith to humanity¡¯s sins. Just seven young souls in search of answers, and in search of their past. Before they forget. Before they become just specs of ash against the wind. And all that will remain of them¡­ will be just a lullaby. A broken song. Seven children. Seven survivors. Seven of humanity¡¯s greatest sins¡­ and perhaps its only hope. Chapter 1 - Chimera VARYAG Facility, Kyshtym, Russia. January 20th, 2037. The corridors were dead silent, save for the faint hum of the fluorescent lights on the ceiling and the rhythmic churn of the ventilation system. The white paint on the walls had long since started peeling, exposing the cracked concrete beneath, bearing the weight of time and neglect. A typical winter day at the facility, for sure. Except for four teenagers, none older than seventeen, huddled in front of one of the three steel doors on the right-hand wall. Hyorin, the sole girl of the four, knelt by the door, a flashlight clamped between her teeth as she worked tirelessly to pick the lock. Beads of sweat shimmered on the forehead, and her glasses slipped down the bridge of her nose for the hundredth time. And behind her, the three boys hovered with a mix of barely-contained anxiety and anticipation. Danila, the shortest and slimmer of the three, let out an exaggerated groan. ¡°Hyorin, how much longer? I can¡¯t feel my legs¡­ and this freaking foil is cutting my ankle.¡± He hunched down, tugging at the wrinkled aluminum foil covering their ankle tags¡ªlikely their best shot at blocking the signal. ¡°Danya, stop whining.¡± Hyorin muttered, her words muffled by the flashlight. ¡°I¡¯m going as fast as I can. Or you wanna take over?¡± ¡°Maybe just go faster?¡± the auburn boy whined, his eyes darting between her and the corridor. ¡°Y¡¯know, before someone finds us and kicks our asses.¡± Tem¨¹jin, standing beside him, exhaled. ¡°For once, and I hate to say this, Danila¡¯s right. If the guards catch us¡ª¡± ¡°We¡¯re dead. Yeah, yeah, I got it,¡± Hyorin shot back, pulling the flashlight from her mouth momentarily. ¡°Ever tried to pick a lock with your glasses fogging up every five seconds? No? Didn¡¯t think so.¡± ¡°This is taking forever¡­¡± Danila grumbled under his breath, tapping his feet as if expecting something to magically happen. Kuyra, the taller and heftier of the bunch, nudged his friend¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Dude, you said the same thing about breakfast this morning. And lunch. And¡ª¡± ¡°Ow! First of all, shut up!¡± Danila exclaimed, rubbing the shoulder with an exaggerated pout. ¡°Secondly, fuck you: I¡¯m a growing boy!¡± Hyorin groaned dramatically, turning her flashlight, which she placed again in her mouth, directly in Danila¡¯s face. ¡°Then take over, growing boy. I insist.¡± Danila stepped back, his hands raised in mock surrender as he shaked his head. ¡°Oh, no, no. See, I would, but then we¡¯d all be stuck there forever.¡± Rolling her eyes, Hyorin returned to the task at hand. Her murmurs barely reached the group as she whispered, ¡°Come on, come on¡­¡± The click of the lock, finally unlocked, was music to her ears. ¡°Oh, I am so good,¡± she said with a smug grin, spitting the flashlight into her hand and pocketing it along with her trusty paperclips. ¡°And that, boys, is how it¡¯s done.¡± Kuyra whistled in appreciation. ¡°Damn. Smooth as hell.¡± ¡°Thank you, thank you,¡± Hyorin, still kneeling in front of the door, replied with a theatrical bow. ¡°Natural talent.¡± The chatter was cut short as steps came from behind the corner. Hyorin shot to her feet, barely pushing the door open enough to peek inside. The coast was clear. Without another word, she slipped inside, and the others followed, shutting the door behind them as quietly as possible. Hyorin leaned against the steel door, listening. The guards were just patrolling. She exhaled: the hardest part was over. And now¡­ they were inside one of the three guards¡¯ quarters. The room had the same white concrete walls that surrounded them in the corridor. It didn¡¯t look that much different from their rooms: eight bunk beds sat on each side of the room, the olive green covers folded with military precision. In front of each bunk bed stood two midnight blue lockers: exactly the place where they would find their new treasures and artifacts. On the far wall, there were six wooden desks, scattered about. Weirdly enough, there were less desks than there were beds. Kuyra moved to the center of the room, stretching his arms out dramatically. ¡°This place¡¯s huge! Why do these idiots get more space than we do in our dormitories?!¡± Danila barely heard him. He''d already bolted past, launching onto one of the bunks like a kid discovering a trampoline for the first time. He flopped onto his back, arms spread. "These beds are soft. This is bullshit! Ours are like concrete slabs. Can we move here? Please? Pretty please?" Tem¨¹jin moved near the bed where Danila was laying, leaning against the bedframe and raising an eyebrow, amused. ¡°Sure. As long as I get the top bunk.¡± ¡°Nuh uh!¡± Danila shot back, sitting up on the bed with an exaggerated indignation. ¡°I called dibs.¡± ¡°Sure, shorty.¡± Danila opened his mouth to retort, but was cut off by Hyorin who clapped her hands softly to grab their attention. ¡°Oi, knock it off you idiots. Time to do what we do best¡ªtake all the good stuff these morons are hiding.¡± Tem¨¹jin deadpanned. "That¡¯s the best we can do? Just¡­ looting? Wow. Big mission, Hyo-hyo." Hyorin shrugged, adjusting her glasses. "Look, I do not lie. I redirect expectations. There¡¯s a difference." Kuyra snorted. "That just sounds like emotional terrorism." ¡°Eh, tomato, tomahto, whatever. Same thing.¡± She waved him off dismissively. She then straightened, turning toward the locker. ¡°Well, boys¡­ let¡¯s start our mission! We don¡¯t have much time.¡± Danila rose from the bed, and the group scattered around. ¡°I¡¯m calling dibs on the cigarettes¡± Tem¨¹jin said, as if notifying the others. Kuyra scoffed. ¡°You already finished that pack of smokes? You promised you¡¯d leave some to me.¡± ¡°Eh¡­ if we find another pack, I¡¯ll try not to smoke them all.¡± The next few minutes played out like some low-budget heist movie. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. Hyorin tugged at the locker door, grunting as it resisted, but after a few moments, she yanked it open with exaggerated triumph. The contents spilled out¡ªsocks and spare uniforms¡ªlanding in a chaotic pile on the floor. She wrinkled her nose in disgust, tossing the clothes aside like they were contaminated with radiation or a virus. Or, well¡­ worse. Tem¨¹jin was near one of the desks, sifted through a drawer. He pulled out a crumpled note, squinting at it for a moment before frowning slightly. What caught his eyes was a crumpled pack of cigarettes. His lips curled into a smirk. Another smoking break was secured. Danila had dropped to all fours, peering under the beds. His hands brushed through dust bunnies and God-knows-what, but nothing of interest. And then¡­ we had Kuyra, who was struggling with one of the other lockers, gritting his teeth as he applied far too much force. The door swung open with a sharp squeal and, in the process, slammed right into his face. He staggered back, holding his nose with a groan. ¡°Ow,¡± he muttered, rubbing his face. ¡°This stupid piece of¨C.¡± The group froze for a moment. Tem¨¹jin and Hyorin turned in unison, their collective "SHHH!" filling the room. Danila nearly had a heart attack. "Kuyra, what the fuck?! Are you trying to kill me?!" Kuyra, voice muffled by his own hand, muttered, "Oh shut up, you cockroach! You¡¯ve got a pacemaker keeping your big-ass heart alive.¡± Danila groaned dramatically, moving a hand on his face. ¡°For the hundredth time: It¡¯s not a pacemaker. It¡¯s a defibrillator!¡± he says, spelling the word as if Kuyra was hearing it for the first time ever. ¡°There¡¯s a huge difference! And still, it doesn¡¯t give you permission to scare the living shit out of me!¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah, whatever. Also, it¡¯s not my fault these things make that much noise! Ow¡­¡± He shot back, still holding his nose. Hyorin chuckled, and with mock sympathy she asked him. ¡°Oh, poor baby. Need help with the big, scary locker?¡± Tem¨¹jin snorted, crossing his arms. ¡°Like you¡¯re the one to talk. I saw you struggling with yours earlier.¡± Hyorin flushed slightly, shrugging it off. ¡°T-That was different! It was stuck! Or¡­ something like that.¡± The chestnut haired boy grinned, leaning against the desk. ¡°Sure, Hyo-hyo. Let me believe you.¡± Kuyra, still nursing his nose, glanced back at the locker. "Why the hell are these things so heavy anyway?" Hyorin raised an eyebrow playfully, humming. ¡°Maybe they¡¯re hiding spooky dead bodies.¡± The group paused, the idea hanging dramatically in the air for a moment before she added. ¡°Or snacks.¡± While the others chatted, Danila had already moved to check out the very same locker Kuyra opened. He rummaged the contents inside: protein bars, an old leather jacket which looked very cool, and then¡­ something else. His sage green eyes widened, and slowly, his face flushed a shade so vivid it could rival the reddest bell pepper in the world. He just found possibly the weirdest, and most unique, object there. ¡°Guys? Guys?!¡± he whispered urgently, his voice a strange mix of alarm and embarrassment. The others glanced up, curiosity instantly piqued. ¡°What?¡± Hyorin asked, frowning slightly as she crossed her arms. ¡°Did you find a secret treasure map?¡± ¡°I-I¡­ uh¡­ It¡¯s not really a treasure map,¡± Danila stammered, holding up something in both hands like it was some cursed artifact. ¡°Y-You gotta see this.¡± The group exchanged a mix of puzzled and intrigued looks before moving closer. Slowly, almost ceremoniously, Danila revealed his discovery: a worn, slightly tattered magazine. The faded, shocking pink cover displayed a woman in a provocative pose, her bright, sultry smile paired with bold and cheesy Cyrillic text: ¡°TOP MODELS: ISSUE #47.¡± Tem¨¹jin joined Danila, as his face flushed the same vivid red hue as his friend. ¡°No. Fucking. Way.¡± he muttered, embarrassed as ever. Kuyra, meanwhile, grinned like a madman as he snatched the magazine from this hand. ¡°Oh-ho-ho! Wait, wait, was this Seryozha¡¯s locker?! Oh, what a time to be alive¡­¡± Hyorin squeezed between them, in order to see what they were talking about. ¡°Oi, what¡¯s got you two so¡ª¡± Her words trailed off, and she let out an appreciative whistle. ¡°Oh my. Well, hello there, ladies.¡± Danila rose to his feet, slightly pushing away Tem¨¹jin and Hyorin as he moved to the back. ¡°Nope. Nuh uh. I ain¡¯t looking at that.¡± Tem¨¹jin, on the contrary, remained and looked at the pages, face puzzled. ¡°T-The anatomy notes didn¡¯t¡­ have stuff like this.¡± Hyorin, grinning ear from ear, looked at both Danila and Tem¨¹jin with amusement. ¡°You two look adorable. Seriously, you¡¯ve never seen stuff like this?¡± ¡°What the¡ª NO! What are you even thinking?!¡± ¡°Dude, you can just ask Alyosha¡­ that guy manages to get all kinds of stuff from one of the guards. He won¡¯t tell me who.¡± Kuyra adds, eyes glued at the pages. Hyorin leaned in closer, checking the pages with an appraising eye. ¡°The muscle definition is impressive.¡± She tilted her head, her grin widening. ¡°Very impressive.¡± ¡°That¡¯s¡­ not what I was looking at.¡± The blonde boy replied. ¡°No kidding. You¡¯re drooling, dumbass.¡± Hyorin quipped, elbowing him in the ribs. ¡°Ow!¡± Kuyra groaned, wiping his mouth. ¡°That is not true!¡± ¡°You look like you¡¯re having an aneurysm, dipshit.¡± She deadpanned, snatching the magazine from his hands. ¡°If you keep this, you¡¯re gonna set a new record for the longest time spent in the shower." Kuyra¡¯s expression was beyond disgusted, while Tem¨¹jin barely managed to hold a chuckle, cheeks still red from the embarrassment of the topic. Meanwhile, Danila covered his face, groaning. ¡°H-Hyorin! What the fuck!¡± The blonde boy muttered, cheeks pink from awkwardness. Hyorin giggled, amused at the reaction of his friend. ¡°Relax, it¡¯s normal. I may keep this magazine though. For¡­ uh, personal research.¡± The chatter was cut short though. A series of voices came from outside the dormitory. The group froze right away. They grew, as they moved closer and closer. ¡°Quick, hide somewhere!¡± Hyorin whispered urgently. The group quickly shoved whatever they left on the floor back to the lockers, closing them quickly. Everyone hid under the bunk beds, trying to be as small as possible. The door opened, as two guards walked in. Clad in their EMR Camouflage uniform, standard issue chest rig and an AK-74 in their hands. One of the two, the taller, took off his balaclava, after hours of keeping it on his face. The ¡®little green men¡¯. That¡¯s the nickname the Chimeras gave to the guards, due to the color of the uniform. From under the bed, Hyorin could feel her pulse hammering against her ribs. She didn¡¯t breathe. None of them did. Danila, curled up beneath the bed in front of Kuyra, looked like he was about to have a stroke. His hands were clamped over his mouth, as if terrified his own breath would betray them. ¡°Jesus¡­ why the fuck has the captain given us the labs to patrol tonight? That place scares the shit out of me.¡± One of the guards muttered, as he moved to the locker and opened it. Luckily enough, it wasn¡¯t one of those opened by the teenagers. The other guard scoffed, as he unbuckled his helmet and threw it on the bed. ¡°Why are you so scared of that place, dude? You make it sound like it¡¯s ¡®Friday the 13th¡¯.¡± ¡°Because, unlike you, I was there with Leonid last time. There¡¯s weird noises, man. I dunno what causes them, but I¡¯d rather patrol the corridor near the brat¡¯s dormitories than that place.¡± The taller guard scoffed. "This facility is falling apart. Rats, mold, half the shit in the labs doesn¡¯t even work. Maybe those brats will burn it down one day, do us all a favor." The shorter guard snorted. "Careful. If the higher-ups hear you talking like that, you¡¯ll be the next one getting reassigned to isolation duty." "Like hell I will," he muttered. Hyorin, meanwhile, tried to think of a way to sneak out of the room undetected. All they needed, after all, was to reach back to the same vent that they used to reach the level they were in. The same vent that would lead them to the maintenance corridor that is vertically parallel to the whole facility. The same corridor they used to sneak undetected here. Somehow, their perfect plan¡ªwhich took them more than a week to lay out, and to obtain the aluminum foil from Mikhail¡ªsuddenly wasn¡¯t so perfect. The guards kept chatting. About how the shifts are so badly organized, how the ¡®brats¡¯ still do their usual mischief and annoy the rest of the guards, and so on. But then, out of the blue, their talk was interrupted by a screech of one of the beds. The same one in which Kuyra was hiding. The space, all tight and cramped for someone as hefty and tall as him, wasn¡¯t enough for him. As he moved ever so slightly, the noise of the metal frame of the bunk bed against the cold floor cut like knife through butter, overarching the voices of the guards. The two soldiers froze as they heard the noise. Meanwhile, the face of the teenagers went pale right away. This was not good. If they were caught there, on Level -1, they¡¯d be in big trouble. Or worse, isolation: the most feared punishment at VARYAG. And if it wasn¡¯t the guards and isolation that worried them¡­ the doctors did. Maybe they¡¯d be assigned one of the overnight tests. All they had to do now was to run away. Or at least find a way to get back to the common area safely. Chapter 2 - Caught in the act Kuyra, pale as winter, laid still beneath the bed, cold sweat clinging to his skin. His breathing was shallow, his entire body frozen in place. He kept a trembling hand over his mouth, forcing himself to stay silent as his eyes darted across the room, scanning for any movements of the guards. His heart pounded against his ribs. Above, the room was eerily still. The only sound came from the occasional scrape of boots against the concrete floor. Then came the unmistakable sound. The metallic click of an AK being cocked. "Who''s there?!" one of the guards barked, voice sharp with suspicion. Thinking was a luxury they couldn''t afford. Survival depended on instinct. Under the adjacent bed, Danila shot Kuyra a warning glance, pressing a finger to his lips. Hyorin, also hidden beneath one of the beds, darted her gaze at the door, then at the guards, heart slamming in her chest and hands shaky. And finally, she looked at Tem¨¹jin, who was hidden in the bed in front of her. That¡¯s when Hyorin made her move. Slipping out from under the bed, she crept toward the door, easing it open just enough. She then moved toward the same bed she came out of, gripping the coarse fabric of a bedsheet in her hands. Tem¨¹jin mirrored her, the two of them ready for action. It was now or never. In a single swift motion, they flung the sheets into the air. The thick fabric twisted and tangled, falling over the guards¡¯ heads, shouts of confusion erupting. That was the signal. Kuyra and Danila quickly got out from their hiding spot. The blonde boy didn¡¯t hesitate, as he threw himself forward, barreling into one of the guards, driving him backward into one of the lockers. Danila, meanwhile, vaulted over the beds, as agile as ever. And the four of them, together, bolted from the door. Then¡ªthe sound they dreaded. A sharp, high-pitched beep coming from their ankle tags. The aluminum foil they had wrapped around it had torn loose. "Breach!" One of the guards roared from the room behind them. "Stop the subjects!" The chase was on. Boots thundered against the cold, sterile floors. The teenagers ran faster than they ever had during their physical assessments, only for them to realise they went in the wrong direction when they saw it. The freight elevator. A massive steel-grating gate blocked their path, separating them from the void below the elevator shaft. On the opposite side of said void, stood another grated door that led to the other wing. Worse, guards were posted by the door. "Shit!" Tem¨¹jin hissed as they skidded to a stop. No time to think¡ªthey had to turn back. And so they did, running in the opposite direction, avoiding yet again the guards. Danila led, the fastest among them. Tem¨¹jin and Hyorin followed close behind. Kuyra trailed last. Then it happened. His body locked up. A sudden, excruciating lock in his joints. His bones refused to move, and his legs stopped responding. Then, he hit the cold floor. "Fuck!" he hissed, trying to push himself up, but his arms were trembling, hurting, his fingers barely curling into fists. The others heard the fall and turned. "Kuyra!" Tem¨¹jin reacted first, darting back and grabbing Kuyra¡¯s arm. Hyorin took the other, their combined strength dragging him forward. "Just leave me!" Kuyra gritted out. "Go back to the Common Area!" "Not a chance!" Hyorin shot back. Danila, already near the vent, cursed under his breath and ran back to help. He hooked an arm under Kuyra¡¯s and pulled, speeding up their escape. But it was too late. The guards were already there. The first blow landed¡ªan AK buttstock cracked against Tem¨¹jin¡¯s lip, sending him crashing onto his back, blood smeared across his chin. Danila barely had time to react before a boot struck his stomach, sending him gasping for air for a second. A third guard grabbed Hyorin¡¯s arm, yanking her backward toward the wall. Kuyra could only watch as heavy hands forced him to the ground. He didn¡¯t even resist¡ªhis body wouldn¡¯t let him. The fight was over before it had begun. The room filled with the sounds of struggle¡ªshouts and gritted curses. Tem¨¹jin was still fighting. He thrashed under the weight of his captor, spitting blood, as he hissed. ¡°Get off me, you fucking idiots!¡± A kick to the gut shut him up, knocking the air from his lungs. ¡°Shut up.¡± The guard¡¯s voice was cold, almost bored. ¡°You brats have no idea how much trouble you¡¯re in.¡± Danila twisted under his captor¡¯s grip, trying to slip free¡ªonly for another brutal strike to his ribs to leave him curled and gasping. The guards then quickly hauled the teens to their feet, pushing them toward the wall, rifles pointed at them. That was, until the guards noticed another man reaching them, and the guards saluted. And that man was none other than the captain of the small garrison of soldiers in the facility. Sergei Belikov¨Cor, as the kids called him, ¡®Seryozha¡¯. More of a mock than anything else. Clad in the same uniform as the guard, albeit missing the helmet and the rifle. He appeared older than the other guards¨Cmaybe in his 40s. Bald head, stern face, the same face of someone with lots experience in the military. He stepped forward, surveying the subjects like misbehaving children. "Well, well¡­" He exhaled, shaking his head mockingly. "Now the five of us are gonna have a nice little talk. Like good friends." "Why don''t you go fuck yourself?" Kuyra muttered. The slap came fast and hard, snapping his head sideways. "You shut up, ¡®Barrel¡¯." Sergei crouched, tapping a finger against Kuyra¡¯s ankle tag. ¡°Clever little trick with the foil. Almost worked. But not quite.¡± He hummed, considering something. Then, with a shrug, he straightened. "Alright. Enough chit-chat. Take them to Room 2." And just like that, the teenagers arms wrenched behind them as they were marched toward the interrogation room. The rooms they rarely saw¡ªunless they caused enough chaos to deserve it. None of them spoke. The room was as sterile as it was suffocating¡ªbare concrete walls, a single overhead light casting harsh shadows. Lined against the far wall were eight plastic chairs, the kind that were deliberately uncomfortable. And they were forced into them. Sergei knelt before Kuyra, ripping the remnants of aluminum foil from his tag. "You lot are smarter than you look," he mused, rising to his feet. "Alright. We¡¯re gonna play a game.¡± he paused. ¡°I¡¯ll ask the questions, you answer politely. If you behave, maybe we go easy on you. If not¡­" He let the words hang before chuckling. "Well, explaining why you¡¯ve got no teeth left would be a real pain in the ass." Danila snorted. "Go fuck yourself." The response earned him a brutal kick to the stomach. He doubled over, gasping. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. The guard sighed, shaking his head. "You¡¯re not very bright, are you, 317?" He then turned his gaze to Hyorin. Slowly, he unholstered his Makarov, letting the weight of it hang between his fingers. He didn¡¯t aim¡ªnot yet. "Okay, sweetheart,¡± he murmured. ¡°Who gave you the foil?" "Baba Yaga," she muttered, rolling her eyes. The guard grabbed a fistful of her olive-brown hair, yanking her head back. "Listen, 315," he murmured, voice low. "Just because you''re a girl doesn''t mean I''ll go easy on you. That clear?" She didn¡¯t flinch. Instead, she smirked. "You can¡¯t kill us. Otherwise, it¡¯s your head on the chopping block. Right, Captain?" For a beat, the room was silent. Then Sergei chuckled, amused. "Gutsy little thing, huh?" His amusement vanished as he drove a boot into her chest. Hyorin barely muffled the pained wheeze as she curled forward. ¡°You son of a bitch¡ª!¡± Tem¨¹jin bolted from his chair, ready to pounce, but he didn¡¯t make it far. Two of the guards that were in the room grabbed him, slamming him back down. Then¡ªthe door swung open. A man stood in the doorway. Not a guard, but a doctor. A man, the same age as the captain. Brown hair streaked with white, hazel eyes, and wore glasses. ¡°What is going on here?¡± His voice was uninterested, unamused. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his white coat, shoulders relaxed, as if he had just walked into a casual conversation. Sergei barely turned. ¡°Medvedev, this is none of your business.¡± ¡°That¡¯s where you¡¯re wrong.¡± Mikhail strolled further into the room, his eyes briefly sweeping over the four teenagers before settling back on the captain. ¡°What did they do?¡± "What do you think? They broke here, genius." Mikhail hummed, as if considering. Then, with a dismissive wave of his hand, he said, "Let them go." "What?!" the sergeant sputtered. "Are you out of your mind?! These brats are looking at isolation! Minimum two weeks¡ª" ¡°They¡¯ll receive punishment, I assure you¡± Mikhail interrupted. ¡°Double tests. But I will take them back to the Common Area.¡± ¡°This is my jurisdiction¡ª¡± ¡°And the mental health of the subjects is mine,¡± the doctor cut in, voice cool. ¡°Do you really want to argue with me, Belikov?¡± A long, tense silence followed. Then, the captain exhaled, defeated. ¡°Fine,¡± he spat. ¡°But I will report this.¡± Mikhail shrugged, as he muttered. "Do whatever you want. I couldn¡¯t give less of a fuck." He turned to the teens, nodding toward the door. ¡°Get up. Let¡¯s go.¡± Tem¨¹jin was the first to move, immediately reaching to help Hyorin up. She was still breathing heavily from the kick, but she waved him off, pushing herself upright. Kuyra and Danila followed. And Mikhail led them out. The walk to the freight elevator was slow. None of them spoke, their footsteps echoing in the silence of the corridor. Kuyra¡¯s movements are still stiff from his bones locking up, winching every now and then from the sharp pain that follows his every step. Tem¨¹jin wiped the blood from his split lip with the back of his hand, looking aimlessly in front of him, his thoughts somewhere else. Hyorin breathed carefully, her ribs throbbing from the guard¡¯s kick. And Danila just walked in silence, his usual grin absent. As they reached the freight elevator, two guards were standing nearby. The steel grating door towered before them, its rusted grooves worn from years of use. And right beyond it, the empty shaft gaped open, the darkness stretching down below. As if it were bottomless. One of the guards pressed a button on the control panel nearby. A deep mechanical hum rumbled through the metal as the platform began its slow ascent. Mikhail exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You kids," he muttered, voice somewhere between amusement and exhaustion, almost in a parental tone. "You really pulled some shit this time, huh?" ¡°Let¡¯s¡­ not talk about it, Misha,¡± Tem¨¹jin muttered, tones hushed. ¡°Though¡­ you really saved our asses back there.¡± Mikhail let out a quiet scoff, shaking his head. ¡°Don¡¯t thank me yet, kid. Next time you lot ask me for aluminum foil, I¡¯m asking why before I give it to you.¡± He paused. Then, he asked. "How the hell did you even figure out the thing with the tags?" ¡°That was me.¡± Hyorin groaned, rubbing her sore chest. ¡°I overheard some guards talking about it a while ago and thought I¡¯d¡­ experiment.¡± Mikhail let out a sharp laugh. ¡°You little devils¡­¡± The elevator doors slid open with a screech. The platform was large, encased in yellow handrails, and worn from years of use. In its center was a simple control console. The five of them stepped inside. Mikhail reached the console, and pressed another button. The platform then moved downward. As they descended, the weight of what had just happened settled in. The adrenaline was wearing off, leaving behind aches, bruises, and exhaustion. ¡°Look,¡± Mikhail said after a long pause, rubbing his temple. ¡°I¡¯ll try to assign you guys to something that isn¡¯t SOT.¡± Kuyra, still catching his breath, let out a dry chuckle. "I¡¯d rather do the Pain Threshold Test than the Sensory Overload Test." Mikhail gave him a sideways glance. "Yeah, because that¡¯s so much better.¡± Silence returned once more during the ride. Tem¨¹jin, meanwhile, was starting to have some questions unrelated to this little adventure of theirs. He then asked the doctor. ¡°Misha¡­ have you seen Tamara and Zorya today?¡± At the question, Mikhail turned to face the chestnut-haired boy. ¡°Medical Checkups and Drug Tests, if I remember correctly.¡± Tem¨¹jin nodded, though the answer didn¡¯t seem to ease him. There was more. Another question. ¡°What about Naran?¡± ¡°What about him?¡± ¡°They took him,¡± Tem¨¹jin muttered. ¡°Right after lunch. I don¡¯t know if it was Sensory Deprivation or¡­ something else. It¡¯s the fifth or sixth time it happens¡± Mikhail studied him for a moment, then sighed. ¡°And you¡¯re asking because¡­?¡± Tem¨¹jin exhaled through his nose. ¡°Because he¡¯s shutting down.¡± That got everyone¡¯s attention. Danila and Kuyra frowned. Even Hyorin, who had been rubbing at the sore spot on her ribs, looked up. The doctor raised an eyebrow. ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°I mean what I said. There¡¯s no meltdown before. He goes straight-up into non-verbal more often. At night he always has nightmares. He¡­ zones out for minutes at a time. And I mean completely out. Like he¡¯s not even here.¡± He then sighs, almost exhausted. ¡°I can tell you this isn¡¯t normal. I know Naran''s autism better than all of you. And I¡¯m sure something is wrong.¡± Mikhail was quiet for a moment, processing all of the information. Then ran a hand through his hair. ¡°Look¡­ I can check in the office if there¡¯s anything scheduled. Maybe check him out.¡± Tem¨¹jin scoffed. ¡°And? That¡¯s it? For fuck¡¯s sake, you are an adult. A doctor! How can you be able to just do that?!¡± ¡°I¡¯m not a miracle worker, Tem. I¡¯m a psychologist, not an active lab researcher in the labs. I¡¯ll do what I can. This isn¡¯t like sneaking books for you guys. I have limited power in some aspects of the Project.¡± Tem¨¹jin clenched his jaw but didn¡¯t press further. Even if a part of him suggested doing the opposite. ¡°Misha¡­ are you able to also check for Miloslav? He¡¯s also behaving weirdly lately. I¡¯m starting to worry.¡± The man sighed again, moving a hand on his face. ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do, Danya. I promise.¡± Danila nodded, a small thank you. Mikhail indeed was different from the other doctors. He lacked the medical coldness his colleagues had. He broke rules, by helping the subjects. Somehow he sneaked in old toys, candies, even books. If anything¡­ he was the closest thing to a parental figure for the kids. Many respected him. Some trusted him, in secret, others not so much. The platform finally slowed to a stop. They were now two levels down. The third level, or as they called it, the Common Wing. Mikhail stepped off first, leading the group through the corridor. ¡°Look kiddos, I want you to stay in the Common Area until dinner, like you were supposed to. Got it? Just do me this favor, please. I¡¯ll take care of the rest.¡± The group silently nodded. Deep down, none of them were worried about the double tests. They were worried about their friends. And Tem¨¹jin also thought about Naran. He wondered if his little brother was doing ok. He had hoped so. That was the only thing he could do for now. Yet, hope in VARYAG was a fool¡¯s dream, a luxury. And the sinking weight in his gut told him something was wrong.