The scientist, a man whose name tag read 'Dr. Aris', was a symphony of terror. Wolfen could smell it on him—the sour stench of sweat, the acrid tang of pure fear, the faint, metallic hint of a bladder that had recently let go. He dragged him not by the collar, but by the scruff of his neck, like a cat carrying a disobedient kitten, his grip impersonal and unyielding.
"Where is the primary data hub for this sector?" Wolfen's voice was calm, a low rumble that vibrated through the man's fragile frame.
"O-Office 7-B! J-Just down this hall!" Aris stammered, pointing a trembling finger.
Wolfen kicked the door in. It wasn't locked. The room was pristine, a stark contrast to the carnage outside. Banks of monitors glowed softly, and a central terminal hummed with potential. He threw Aris into the plush chair before it.
"Access the project logs. All of them. Starting with the new initiative. The one designed to surpass me."
Aris's hands fluttered over the keyboard, his fingers slipping on the keys. "I... I don't have that level of clearance! Only the Primes—"
Wolfen placed a single hand on the man's shoulder. He didn't squeeze. He just let it rest there, a weight of infinite promise. "Find a way. Or I will find a new way to motivate you."
The motivation was effective. Aris, sweating profusely, used a series of emergency override codes he'd doubtless been forbidden to know, his access level escalating rapidly. Files began to populate the screen.
"It's... it's called Project Chimera," Aris whispered, his eyes wide as he scanned the data. "Headed by Prime Architects 4, 6, and 3. It's... a fusion protocol. Not just combining DNA, but... assimilating consciousness. Creating a single, hive-minded entity from multiple powerful subjects. They believe a collective consciousness will have the computational and adaptive power to... to..."
"To what?" Wolfen prompted, his voice dangerously soft.
"To neutralize a rogue, singular apex entity," Aris finished, his voice barely audible. "You. They're building a weapon to kill you, sir."
A slow, terrifying smile spread across Wolfen's face. "Good. It's been boring." He leaned closer, his pale eyes reflecting the scrolling text. "Now. Pull the files on my recent... companions. Everything. I want to know who I'm dealing with."
Aris, now fully compliant in his terror, navigated to the personnel and subject database. One by one, their lives were laid bare on the screen, reduced to cold, clinical data.
Subject: Maya Valerius
· Full Name: Maya Elara Valerius
· Last Known Address: 1847 Sycamore Lane, Apartment 3B, Ravenswood Metropolitan Area
· Family: Deceased (Parents, Luka and Isabella Valerius, confirmed KIA during initial outbreak). No siblings.
· Notes: Exhibited high cognitive function and latent psionic resilience. Designated as primary host for Symbiote Assimilation Protocol. Post-event classification: EPO-1 (Emergent Predator Organism). Extreme threat.
Subject: Derek Storm
· Full Name: Derek Michael Storm
· Last Known Address: 42 The Old Mill Road, Crestfall Village
· Family: Mother (Eleanor Storm, status: missing, presumed dead). Father (Richard Storm, deceased pre-outbreak).
· **Notes: Displays strong survival instincts and a protective loyalty to Subject Valerius. A natural, if untrained, leader. Low-level anomalous regenerative factors detected, origin unknown.
Subject: Leo Cross
· Full Name: Leo Santino Cross
· Last Known Address: 990 Ironworks Boulevard, The Foundry District, Ravenswood
· Family: Father (Marcus Cross, former military, status: unknown). Mother (deceased). Exhibits aggression and combat proficiency, likely paternal training.
· Notes: Psychological profile indicates a deep-seated need for approval and a fear of failure masked by bravado.
Subject: Jordan Lee
· Full Name: Jordan Alexander Lee
· Last Known Address: C/O Ravenswood Museum of Natural History, Curator's Residence, 1 Museum Drive
· Family: Orphaned. No known living relatives.
· Notes: Former museum security. High proficiency with bladed weapons. Subject possesses a unique, non-psionic regenerative ability. Post-mortem revival event logged. Designation: Anomalous Biology - Source Unknown.
Then came Eva's file. Wolfen's eyes narrowed, his interest sharpening.
Subject: Eva
· Designation: E-01
· True Name: Eva Katerina Rostova
· Last Known Address: 32 Winterbourne Avenue, Northcrest District (Family Estate)
· Family: Parents (Dmitri and Anya Rostova, consumed by infected during abduction). Sister: Alina Rostova. Current Status: In Architect Custody. Designation: Subject A-01. Primary template for Project Chimera Convergence.
· Notes: Enhanced physical and cognitive capabilities. Served as compliant observer until recent rebellion. Motivating factor: Sister's captivity. Injected with Welfric Bio-agent. Status: Stabilizing. Potential for significant power escalation.
Alina Rostova. So that was the chain they used to bind the ghost. A sister. A template. Wolfen filed the information away. It was a lever, should he need one.
"Enough," Wolfen said, straightening up. He had their names, their histories, their weaknesses. They were no longer just faces; they were dossiers. Assets and liabilities in the game to come.
He hauled Aris to his feet and left the office, the scientist stumbling alongside him, a walking database now surplus to requirements. As they moved towards what he presumed was an exit route, he saw them. A small group of survivors, maybe ten or twelve, huddled by a blown-out service door, peering fearfully into the daylight beyond. They were ragged, terrified, and utterly insignificant.
Wolfen's intention was to pass them by. They were chaff, their lives a currency too minuscule to spend a single thought on.
Then his eyes fell on one of them.
A young woman, perhaps no older than twenty. Her face was smudged with dirt, her hair a tangled mess, but there was a set to her jaw, a defiant light in her green eyes, even through the fear. It was a look he hadn't seen in a very, very long time. A look that belonged to a sun-drenched past, to a life before the world ended and he was remade.
Stacy.
His best friend. The girl who had been like a sister to him. She'd had that same defiant glint, that same stubborn hope that refused to be extinguished. This survivor was not Stacy—Stacy was dust and memory—but the ghost of her, reflected in this stranger's face, was a punch to a part of him he thought long dead.
The calculation in his mind changed. The path of least resistance was to leave. The path of... something else... was to ensure this flickering reflection of his past made it out.
"Stay close if you want to live," he grunted at the huddled group, his voice cutting through their panic. They flinched, but seeing him move towards the light, they fell in behind him like ducklings, their fear of him momentarily outweighing their fear of the unknown outside.
They emerged onto a vast, windswept helicopter landing platform. The others were already there—Eva, supporting a hollow-eyed Maya, Derek, Leo, and Jordan, along with the rest of the survivors they had shepherded. They were all gathered at the edge, staring out.
Wolfen walked up to Eva, his gaze moving past her to the vista beyond. They were on a mountain. Not a colossal peak, but high enough. The air was thin and cold. Below, rolling hills covered in dense, dark green forest stretched out, carved through by deep river valleys. The landscape was rugged, ancient.
And deeply, profoundly familiar.
A cold knot tightened in his gut. He said nothing, his face a mask of stone, but his mind was racing, overlaying this view with maps and memories.
"Down," Eva said, her voice firm, pointing to a treacherous-looking switchback path carved into the mountainside. "There's a river at the bottom. We follow it."
The descent was slow, arduous. The survivors moved like ghosts, their bodies pushed beyond exhaustion. Wolfen moved among them, an unsettling shepherd, his presence both a threat and a strange reassurance. His eyes continuously scanned the terrain, the flora, the quality of the light.
Then he saw it.
A movement in the treeline. A large, shaggy form, black with a distinctive white V-shaped blaze on its chest. It was rooting for food, powerful and unconcerned with the strange humans passing through its domain.
A Tibetan Mastiff.
The sight of the animal was the final, confirming data point. The landscape, the altitude, the breed of dog—it all clicked into place with the force of a thunderclash.
Tibet. They were in the Himalayas. Or a region very much like it. This was not a random location. This was a place of power, of isolation. A perfect place to hide a laboratory, and a perfect place from which to begin a new kind of conquest.
His thoughts were interrupted by a whimper. Dr. Aris, who had been clinging to the hope of his own usefulness, stumbled on the rocky path, his hand clutching at Wolfen's arm for balance.
Wolfen stopped. He looked at the scientist, then at the steep, rocky drop-off to their right. The man's usefulness had expired the moment they left the terminal. He was dead weight. A loose end. And Wolfen had never been sentimental about his tools.
He looked at Aris, his expression utterly blank. "You have served your purpose."
Before the doctor could even form a plea, Wolfen placed a hand on his chest and gave a short, sharp push.
There was no scream, only a startled gasp that was swallowed by the wind. Aris tumbled backward, his arms flailing, and disappeared over the edge. The sound of his body bouncing off the rocks below was a series of faint, distant crunches that were quickly lost in the vastness of the mountains.
Wolfen didn't watch. He simply turned and continued walking, the memory of Stacy's face and the certainty of their location warring within him. He was free. He was in a land he knew. And he was surrounded by pieces on a board that was suddenly, terrifyingly, global in scale. The game had just begun.