At the forest's edge, a low-hanging mist coiled like a tide churning in the dark, slowly devouring the outlines of the trees.
From within the gloom, shadowy figures began to emerge. They moved in silence, their strides steady and unwavering—like the vanguard of death itself. Tactical visors caught the faintest glint of light, flashing with a cold, metallic sheen. Sleek, black combat armor clung tightly to their muscular frames, while the insignia on their arms—a shield crossed by twin axes—seemed all the more menacing in the dim night.
Had Maverick been there, he would've recognized them instantly—these were the same soldiers they had encountered when they first entered the quarantine zone. The same ones who had later imprisoned them.
At the head of the unit, one soldier was hunched over a scanner on his forearm, his hood casting a shadow that concealed his face. Only a faint, icy blue glow shimmered beneath the folds.
"Target locked," he murmured.
His voice sliced through the night like a knife. He slowly raised his hand, fingers tightening beneath black gloves.
From the darkness, a figure stepped forward.
A faint smirk tugged at the corners of Lee's mouth. His eyes gleamed like blades, fixed on the digits flickering across the scanner screen—
[Subject 0003]
At the same time, an image flickered onto a virtual display—two figures appeared in the projection. Maverick and his companion.
Lee whispered,"Found you at last…" His voice carried a cocktail of bitterness and excitement—the thrill of a predator catching the scent of prey once more.
"Don't rush." The mercenary captain chuckled, arms crossed, his expression smug yet cloaked in shadow."Stay back and send the scouts. That'll do for now."
Lee frowned."What the hell are you waiting for? You're not seriously thinking—no. No way. You're insane."
There was fear buried deep in the captain's eyes, but greed burned brighter. It gave him courage.
"What's there to fear? If we pull this off… we win. You and I—we'll be the last ones standing."
The night wind stirred. He paused for a beat, then issued a cold, deliberate order:
"All squads advance. Seal the perimeter."
Behind him, the mercenaries nodded silently.
From the darkness, more figures emerged, noiseless as shadows, seeping between the trees like a black tide—cutting off every possible escape.
Their boots crushed dry leaves underfoot. Scattered across the ground lay grotesque carcasses—skinned beasts sprawled in pools of blood, sinew still twitching faintly, not yet cold. Nearby, a mechanical serpent lay in ruins, its segmented limbs broken, sparking weakly with the last vestiges of malfunctioning circuits.
The heavy boots crushed all in their path. Blood soaked into the soil. The night beneath the remains grew darker still.
The hunt had begun.
—
The two men stood facing the slow approach of a monstrous, mechanical behemoth. Their bodies were battered and bloodied. Running? Useless now.
Maverick's hand tightened slightly on Dr. Chan's shoulder. Chan gave him a crooked smile. When they first met, he had looked down on this younger man, dismissing him as a green rookie. But everything they'd endured since—every ordeal, every fight—had shifted that view. He'd come to rely on Maverick more than he ever expected. He had once judged him, mocked him, then understood him… and now? He was proud to call him a brother.
They exchanged a glance—and laughed.
A laugh born of exhaustion. Of defiance. Of fearlessness.
But then, a shadow loomed.
Death crept close once more.
Their pupils contracted sharply.
Towering before them stood the hulking figure of the Skinners' leader.
Their expressions twisted—shock, disbelief, and then… relief?
Because in the next instant, they heard the shriek of tearing metal.
"CRAAAANG—!"
A slab of heavy armor was ripped violently apart, whistling overhead in a shower of sparks. Instinctively, they raised their arms to shield their faces. Their hearts slammed into overdrive.
Maverick and Dr. Chan locked eyes again—and something stirred. That long-dormant instinct to survive blazed to life once more.
They turned. Ran.
Summoning the last scraps of strength, they stumbled forward, bruised and broken—but alive.
They had a chance.
They could make it.
Then—something slashed through the dark.
A hulking claw lashed out and clamped down around them with brutal force.
The air vanished.
A crushing pressure squeezed their chests, stole their breath. Their feet left the ground. The world whirled past in a dizzying blur. Wind screamed in their ears as the trees and shadows spun into a chaotic smear.
Maverick felt the darkness swell around him—then everything went black.
-----------------
He didn't know how much time had passed...
Maverick's eyes fluttered open amid a jolt. Towering ancient trees stretched into the sky above him, their dense canopies pierced only by the first light of dawn. Shards of morning sunlight broke through the thick foliage, scattering across the forest floor in fragmented patches.
When he awoke again, he seemed to be inside a naturally woven tent, crafted from vines and branches, rising and dipping like a living structure. All around was a hidden, stifling camp—forgotten, perhaps, by time itself. The ground beneath him was damp but firm, blanketed with thick moss, marred by dried bloodstains and tattered scraps of clothing. A breeze passed through, stirring the scents of wet soil and rotting leaves. In the faint hush, he could almost hear distant sobs from the night before—and far-off, muffled beastly roars.
More sunlight filtered in, illuminating the tattered remains of a flag in the center of the camp. It was faded beyond recognition, edges scorched and riddled with holes, yet it still fluttered defiantly. In the center, two crooked black characters had been inked by hand:"Freedom." They clung to the cloth like a fragile hope—faint, but unextinguished.
Then he felt it—a cold gaze piercing through him.
Only now did he notice the figure crouched beside him: a small girl, thin and pale, her eyes blazing with fury and sorrow. Her expression struck him like a blade.
She slowly extended her arm, pointing at him. Her voice rang out, sharp and venomous:
"It was you. Your people killed my brother!"
Maverick had no strength to argue, no words to give. He simply closed his eyes again and slipped back into unconsciousness.
When he next awoke, his limbs were stiff, his muscles bound by invisible chains that felt rusted with age. He wondered if he even belonged to the world of the living anymore. The dampness was gone. He was lying inside a small, rough stone chamber, the air laced with a faint, smoky scent—charcoal and fire.
He tried to sit up, but pain clamped down on him. With a groan, he sank back down and rolled to his side. He found himself lying on a crude bed of vines, his arm bandaged with strips of fabric. As he looked around, he took in the room: walls hewn roughly with a chisel or iron pick, every corner showing marks of labor—etched and pounded into being. Even the platform beneath him, and the stone slab beside it that passed for a table, bore the same primitive craftsmanship.
Where was he?
His head buzzed with confusion. Slowly, memories returned—flashes of skinned creatures, mechanical serpents, the flight, the fights, another escape… and finally, he and Dr. Chan being snatched up by one of the skinners. Everything after that was darkness.
"You're awake!"
A bright, cheerful voice called out. A plump silhouette stepped into the narrow beam of light from the stone doorway.
Maverick looked up—and blinked in surprise.
A round, motherly woman waddled into the stone room, carrying a steaming bowl of soup. Her face beamed with warmth, as though this were not a monster's lair but a country cottage in some forgotten valley.
Behind her, a small head peeked out. The girl. Still glowering, still brimming with hatred.
"You... you're alive?" Maverick murmured, dazed.
The girl spat on the ground and continued to glare.
"Alright, enough of that," the woman said, waving the girl off. "Go play somewhere."
Reluctantly, the girl slunk behind her and disappeared from view, but not without clinging to the woman's apron like a wary little animal seeking shelter.
The woman set the bowl on the stone slab beside him with a thud."Here, drink up. It'll help you regain some strength. We don't have fancy ingredients here—just what the mountain gives us. Staying alive's a luxury in itself."
Maverick glanced into the bowl. The broth was a dark brown, with slivers of roots floating on top and a chunk of meat bobbing beneath. Or at least, he hoped it was meat.
He forced himself upright, wincing, and looked at her.
"Where... am I?" His voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper.
"You're safe now!" she said cheerfully, wiping her hands on her apron."Everyone calls me Big Chef Lady. And you?"
"…Maverick," he said slowly, still studying her. She looked so ordinary. Harmless, even.
"Is this still the skinners' camp?" he asked, warily.
He remembered waking once before, seeing the skinned creatures roaming past. But one thing was certain—they'd saved him. Whether it was to keep him alive or to preserve him as food, he couldn't yet tell.
The girl peeked back in.
"What monsters? You're the monster," she hissed, her cold gaze never wavering. Then she vanished again, hiding behind Big Chef Lady, clutching at her apron with trembling fingers.
The atmosphere was growing stranger by the second.
"Don't overthink it," Big Chef Lady said, waving him off."Eat before it gets cold."
Maverick picked up the bowl. It was just an ordinary porcelain bowl. He frowned, hesitating to take a sip.
She caught his hesitation.
"Don't worry," she said."It's monkey meat. Not human."
"Monkey?" he echoed, peering down into the soup. The surface gleamed faintly with oil. Roots floated like tiny threads, and a lump of meat sat at the bottom. He stirred it gently, watching a curved bone rise to the surface.
His stomach turned. He nudged the bowl away.
"Please… just tell me. What is this place?" he asked quietly.
Big Chef Lady let out a heavy sigh and plopped down onto a stone stool.
"It's a secret camp. To be precise, it's where they gather the ones they've saved."
Maverick frowned."Saved?"
She gave a short, dry laugh."What, you thought they were just bloodthirsty monsters? Sure, they look hideous. But if you think the world's split neatly into good and evil, black and white… well, you're far too naïve to survive here."
Maverick fell silent, her words echoing in his mind.