The full moon lit the dark sky, its light falling upon the remote complex of Kordell National Laboratory. Tonight, it was silent and empty. All office lights were off, the usual inhabitants gone. Well, almost all.
In an office reserved for the Physics department, a single light burned.
Zion Astrea signed the last form in a mountainous stack, the pen feeling heavy in his hand. He leaned back in his chair, the leather groaning in protest, and rubbed his tired eyes. A photograph sat framed on his desk, a stark contrast to the colorful doctoral degrees hanging on the wall behind him. It showed two boys, arms slung around each other's shoulders. A younger Zion, hair already untamed, stood next to a beaming Silas, whose huge body was a contrast to his.
"Another night spent here," Zion muttered to the empty room. His gaze drifted from the photo to the window, to the quiet complex bathed in moonlight. He wasn't totally alone, he supposed. Silas had been with him through it all the orphanage, university, the frantic early years of their careers. But Silas had a family now, a life that didn't fit between these lab walls. Zion was happy for him, truly. But it meant nights like this were Zion's to bear alone.
"Home sweet home," he sighed, standing and stretching until his joints popped. Sleep called to him, but the moon was too beautiful to ignore. He grabbed his coat and stepped out.
The empty complex was transformed. Moonlight cast long, warped shadows, giving the grounds a somber, peaceful aura. Zion smiled, tilting his head back to take in the sky. For a moment, he allowed himself to drift, to imagine a different life—one with more laughter, less silence. Perhaps someone to share this quiet beauty with.
His wishful thoughts shattered as his vision settled on a anomaly in the sky.
A blood-red streak, burning through the monochrome night.
"A shooting star?" he whispered. Then, his brain processed the trajectory. "Wait... isn't that too close?!"
He broke into a sprint, diving behind a reinforced concrete wall just as the world tore itself apart.
A massive shockwave rippled through the air and ground. The roar was deafening. A maelstrom of glass, concrete, and dust erupted, blanketing the complex in pure destruction. When the uproar finally faded, Zion was buried in a layer of fine powder. He pushed himself up, coughing, dust cascading from his eyelids. He was cut in a few places, but alive.
He looked around, shock freezing him for a second. The facility was almost unrecognizable. Buildings stood, a testament to their engineering, but they were scarred and broken.
The guards... they'll be coming. But until then...
A different instinct took over, one that eclipsed fear and pain. Curiosity.
He began to run. He didn't feel the burn in his lungs or the protest in his legs. His mind was singularly focused, pulling him through the wreckage and debris toward the impact site.
When he finally reached the crater, his breath caught.
It was massive, easily the size of a football pitch. And at its center sat the meteorite. It was a deep, pulsing blood-red, its color shifting in intensity like a heartbeat. As Zion crept closer, he could see intricate symbols and vague images carved into its surface.
"Amazing," he breathed, unaware he had spoken.
The stone seemed to call to him. A primal part of his brain screamed at him to run, but the scientist in him was mesmerized. He reached a hand out, hesitating. "Should I... touch it?"
The meteorite pulsed faster, as if in response.
"Keep searching!" a voice shouted in the distance.
Zion's head snapped around. He saw the beam of a flashlight. He tried to call out, to wave them over, but his body refused to obey.
What?
He struggled, muscles straining, but he was utterly locked in place, his vision chained to the pulsating stone.
"Come quickly, I found him!" the guard shouted. "Dr. Astrea, step away from that thing! It's dangerous!"
Run! Zion's mind screamed. Get back!
But he was a statue. The meteorite's light grew brighter, more intense, until it was almost blinding.
The guard was just steps away, arm outstretched.
It was too late.
The meteorite went critical. It exploded with a force that seemed to rip into the very fabric of reality. Zion was thrown backward, his body seizing as incredible red energy coiled around his limbs and flooded his vision. That bright, dynamic, all-consuming red was the last thing Zion Astrea ever saw.
Or so he thought.