Chapter 17: Echoes in the Dark
Kaito's boots tapped against the linoleum, each step echoing through the hollow office halls like distant drumbeats. The corridor stretched ahead—long, dim, unnervingly still. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, cutting reality into fragments. The air had shifted. Gone was the faint chemical bite of insecticide. Now came something sharper—iron-rich and pungent.
Blood.
He kept his hand near the baton at his hip, fingers twitching with the memory of last night. That thing hadn't just been a bug. It had evolved—beyond protocol, beyond logic. He'd killed it, but it hadn't died easy.
The breakroom door stood ajar, hanging crooked on its hinges. Kaito nudged it open with the baton.
The room was wrecked.
Tables lay overturned. Chairs shattered. One vending machine stood upright but gutted, glass shards gleaming like teeth beneath it. Snack wrappers and foil packets fluttered like dead leaves. A glistening trail of slime snaked across the floor, vanishing beneath the far exit.
He knelt, touching the trail with gloved fingers. Still warm.
His comm crackled. Static first, then a familiar bark.
"Kaito. Report."
It was Hayama, his supervisor. Always clipped. Always cold.
Kaito straightened. "We've got movement. Slime trail in the breakroom. Structural damage. Something's here—and it's not just bugs anymore."
Silence.
Then Hayama replied, tone ice-thin. "You are authorized to investigate. Retrieve a specimen if possible. Do not withdraw unless critical."
Of course. Disposable.
Suppressing a curse, Kaito clicked off the comm and opened the hallway door. His flashlight cut through the dark like a scalpel. The trail led to the stairwell. Downward.
He hesitated at the top step. The cold deepened as he descended, every footfall sounding like a warning. His breath misted in the stale air.
Click.
Click-click.
Click.
Something waited.
He reached the basement door. It groaned open.
Beyond it—carnage.
A hulking mass loomed in the darkness, crouched over a heap of debris. Shattered desks, splintered plastic, torn wires—all fused into a grotesque nest. The creature feeding on it was... wrong.
Its body was obsidian-black, slick and jagged. Six legs jutted from a bloated torso, each one barbed and twitching. Its eyes were twin red orbs, glowing with alien hunger. This wasn't a roach. Not anymore.
It shrieked.
Kaito didn't think. He drew the baton, triggered the charge.
Snap. Blue arcs danced across the head. The bug launched forward, screaming.
He ducked, rolled.
Concrete exploded where he'd stood.
He swung—connected. The baton buzzed against carapace. The monster spasmed. He drove forward, striking again—this time embedding the weapon in its side.
Electricity surged.
The creature wailed, but slashed back. Claws tore into his ribs. He stumbled, pain lighting up his nerves like fire.
Gritting his teeth, he ripped the baton free—and drove it into the creature's skull.
Crack.
Flash.
Silence.
It fell.
Kaito staggered back, pressing a hand to the bleeding gash on his side. His pulse thundered in his ears.
He keyed the comm. "Target neutralized. I need evac. Now."
Static.
Then Hayama. Calm. Cold.
"Negative. We're picking up more heat signatures across the building. They're waking up, Kaito. Hold your ground. Reinforcements inbound."
His breath caught.
More?
He looked down at the twitching corpse. Then back at the stairwell.
This wasn't an infestation.
It was the beginning.