The B5 door slid shut behind us with a heavy metallic shudder.
The sound echoed down the hallway—
long, hollow, and disturbingly alive.
The air on this floor was colder.
Not the chill of air conditioning.
Not even the damp of a basement.
A colder kind of cold.
The kind that clings to the back of the neck,
like something is breathing down it.
Rowan stepped closer to me, fingers tightening around mine.
Horace scanned the corridor ahead with slow, controlled movements—
a soldier's instinct kicking in.
Chandler moved behind us, steps silent, jaw clenched.
Lucian lifted his tablet, the faint glow illuminating his face.
"This entire floor should be active," he said quietly.
"But it's not.
The power grid was cut deliberately."
"By who?" Rowan whispered.
Lucian didn't answer.
But the truth was obvious.
Horace answered for him.
"Caliban."
The corridor stretched ahead of us—
long, narrow, lined with reinforced doors on both sides.
Each door had a faded label.
Lab 5A – Resonance Field Study (inactive)
Lab 5B – Pheromone Modulation Research (archived)
Lab 5C – Omega Instinct Response Tests (sealed)
Lab 5D – Subject Containment Prep (vacant)
Rowan looked sick.
"Elle… this place… your brother was really here…?"
My heart twisted painfully.
I didn't remember this place.
But something inside me reacted.
A faint pressure behind my ribs.
A tug in my throat.
A distant, dull ache.
As if some part of me recognized the air.
Lucian stopped at the first reinforced window.
Inside, behind cracked glass,
equipment sat covered in dust—
Monitoring machines.
Worn-out observation chairs.
Cables that snaked across the floor like veins.
Horace narrowed his eyes.
"This is where they performed the resonance scans."
Lucian nodded.
"Yes. The same type Elliot went through."
Rowan hugged his arms around himself.
"Why does it look abandoned?"
Lucian knelt by the door panel.
"Because someone purged the entire floor."
Chandler inhaled sharply.
"Purged? As in…"
Lucian's voice dropped.
"As in scrubbed the data.
Erased records.
Removed evidence."
Horace muttered:
"Covering his tracks."
Rowan swallowed hard.
"But why erase everything… now?"
Lucian stood.
"Because we're getting close."
THE FIRST LAB
Horace gestured toward the next door.
"Let's keep moving."
We approached Lab 5C, the sealed one.
The door was welded shut—
heavy metal melted together like someone was desperate to keep whatever was inside contained.
Chandler stepped forward.
"Should we—?"
"No." Lucian held up a hand.
"If they welded it, they didn't want even scientists coming back in."
Rowan shivered.
"What could be so bad that they sealed it off completely…?"
Horace's jaw clenched.
"Whatever it was… it involved Omegas."
I stepped toward the door without thinking—
drawn by something I couldn't name.
The welded seams seemed to pulse when I got close.
Like the metal itself remembered pain.
Horace instantly caught my shoulder.
"Elleanore. Don't."
I blinked.
The strange pull faded slightly.
"I'm fine," I whispered.
But I wasn't.
I felt something—
something deep.
Old.
Familiar.
A memory brushed the edge of my mind—
a clinical voice saying:
"Subject Fonze, resistance is increasing. Increase dosage."
I gasped and nearly fell.
Rowan grabbed me instantly.
"Elle—?! Elle, what happened—??"
Horace steadied me.
Chandler moved closer.
Lucian frowned.
"What did you see?"
I swallowed hard.
"I… heard something.
A voice.
Talking about increasing dosage."
Rowan paled.
Lucian cursed under his breath.
"They used stimulants on Elliot to push his resonance."
Chandler's expression darkened.
"How much?"
Lucian didn't look up.
"Enough to break a normal Omega."
Horace murmured:
"Elliot wasn't normal."
We all looked at each other.
The implication hung in the air.
Neither was I.
A ROOM THAT STILL BREATHES
Lucian led us further down the corridor.
We passed a long row of abandoned labs, all stripped bare.
Then we reached one that wasn't empty.
Lab 5H — Omega Behavioral Monitoring
The door creaked open.
Lucian shone his tablet light inside.
We stepped in—
—and the air hit us like a punch.
The room wasn't dusty like the others.
It smelled faintly of—
cleaning solvent.
Alcohol.
Pheromone neutralizer.
Horace stiffened.
"This room was used recently."
Chandler's eyes narrowed.
"Recently as in days?"
Rowan whispered:
"Or hours…"
Lucian inspected the counters.
"They wiped the surfaces, but not thoroughly. Look."
He held the tablet closer.
On the metal table, faint indentations remained—
like someone had gripped the edge hard enough to bend it.
Horace ran a gloved hand along it.
"That's not an Omega's grip."
Chandler frowned.
"Then whose—?"
Lucian turned toward me.
Then froze.
"Elleanore," he said slowly,
"you need to see this."
My heart pounded as I stepped forward.
He pointed his tablet light toward the floor.
There—
beneath the table—
was a single object.
A small, worn, metal bracelet.
Dented.
Scuffed.
Child-sized.
The name etched into it was faded but still visible:
J. FONZE
SUBJECT — 07
Rowan gasped so violently he nearly choked.
Chandler swore loudly.
Horace bent down slowly, picking it up with trembling fingers.
My knees gave out.
Horace caught me instantly.
Chandler grabbed my arm.
Rowan wrapped his arms around me, sobbing.
Lucian moved closer, voice low, steady, trying to keep us grounded.
But all I saw—
all I heard—
all I felt—
was that name.
My brother's name.
On a metal bracelet lying on the floor
of a lab that had been used recently.
Rowan whispered:
"Elle… he was here… he was just—
he was really here—"
Chandler's voice was rough.
"This means he's still being moved between floors."
Horace looked up sharply.
"Which means he's still alive."
I shook.
I felt sick.
I felt like screaming.
I felt—
watched.
Lucian suddenly lifted his hand for silence.
The room went still.
Horace tensed.
Chandler straightened.
Rowan froze against me.
"What is it…?" Rowan whispered.
Lucian turned his head slowly toward the open doorway.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Soft.
Deliberate.
Coming from the far end of the corridor.
Someone—or something—was walking toward us.
Chandler stepped forward, blocking the entrance.
Horace pushed Rowan and me further inside.
Lucian grabbed my wrist and tugged me behind a counter.
The footsteps got closer.
Closer.
Closer—
Then stopped just beyond the doorway.
No breathing.
No shadow.
Just stillness.
Chandler whispered:
"…who's there?"
Silence answered.
Then—
A faint, mechanical whisper echoed from the hall:
"Sub…ject…
Seven."
Rowan's breath caught.
Lucian looked horrified.
Horace reached instinctively for me.
Chandler slowly reached for the doorframe.
The mechanical voice repeated—
closer this time, as if leaning in:
"Sub…ject…
Seven."
I felt my heartbeat stop.
Because that—
was Elliot's number.
The Creature That Knows His Name
The hallway outside Lab 5H stayed dead silent.
Still.
Heavy.
Except for the faint, distorted whisper repeating through the air:
"Sub…ject…
Seven."
The lights flickered overhead, one by one, as if reacting to the voice.
Rowan clung to me, trembling violently.
Chandler stepped forward with slow, deadly intent, cracking his neck once as he positioned himself between the doorway and the rest of us.
Horace shielded my body with his, one hand gripping my wrist, the other hovering near my waist—as if ready to lift me and run at the first sign of danger.
Lucian's tablet hummed softly as he scanned through emergency protocols, his expression shifting from alarmed to horrified.
That whisper came again.
"Sub…ject…
Seven—"
And then—
Something stepped into view.
THE FIRST SUBJECT
A figure moved into the doorway, dimly illuminated by the flickering ceiling lights.
Tall.
Thin.
Not quite steady on its feet.
Its head hung forward, hiding its face behind a cracked, metallic mask that covered everything from forehead to jaw.
The mask had a single marking burned into it:
07
Rowan's grip on my arm went rigid.
"No—no—no—"
"Rowan—Breathe."
Chandler muttered, though even his voice trembled with disgust and fury.
Horace tensed, eyes narrowing at the figure's slow, swaying movements.
Lucian swallowed hard.
"That mask is a restraint model.
That's… that's not Elliot."
Rowan whimpered softly.
"I know… but… what happened to them…?"
The subject wore loose, torn hospital scrubs.
Footsteps shuffling, slow, uneven.
Not attacking.
Not lunging.
Just—
moving.
Toward me.
Lucian stepped in front of me immediately.
"No. Stay back."
But the subject didn't attack.
It didn't react to the others at all.
It lifted its head only slightly.
Behind the cracked metal mask, a faint glow flickered—
a soft blue light where eyes should have been.
Then the voice came again—
the same mechanical distortion layered over a human attempt to speak:
"Sub… ject…
Seven…"
But the voice wasn't addressing itself.
Lucian's eyes widened as realization hit.
"Oh stars— It's not calling itself that."
Horace's grip tightened around me.
"What do you mean?"
Lucian's face went pale.
"It's identifying the pheromone pattern it was conditioned to recognize."
Rowan blinked, confused through his fear.
"Conditioned to… to recognize… who?"
Lucian turned to me slowly.
"Elleanore."
My breath froze.
Chandler stiffened.
Rowan gasped.
Horace whispered:
"It was conditioned to track Elliot."
Lucian nodded grimly.
"Yes.
That subject was trained to respond to Elliot's pheromones.
The same pheromones you share."
The subject took one step forward.
Slow.
Staggering.
Not in aggression—
but like a compass that had just found its true north.
Horace moved instantly, blocking me with his entire body.
"Don't come closer."
Chandler shifted his stance, ready to strike the moment it crossed a line.
Rowan backed up, pulling me behind him, even though his knees shook.
Lucian held up a hand.
"Wait."
Chandler growled.
"Wait? For what?"
Lucian's voice stayed steady.
"It hasn't attacked.
It's… seeking."
Rowan whispered:
"Seeking… Elliot…"
I swallowed hard.
The air felt thick with grief and horror and something sharp beneath my ribs.
The subject stopped three steps away from the doorway.
Its head twitched to the side—
like it was trying to remember how to move.
Then it raised one arm.
Slowly.
shakily.
And held its hand out toward me.
Not in attack.
In recognition.
A sound escaped its mask—
not mechanical this time.
Something human.
A fragile, broken breath.
"E… li…"
My knees trembled.
Rowan choked back a sob.
Horace whispered:
"…it's trying to say his name."
Lucian took a small step forward.
"Subject masks like that suppress consciousness.
Whoever that was—
they're trying to remember something through suppression."
Chandler clenched his fists.
"You're saying they're still aware in there?"
Lucian nodded.
"Barely.
But yes."
Rowan shuddered violently.
"That's… that's torture—"
Horace's voice shook with controlled rage.
"They did this to possible survivors of induction?"
Lucian swallowed.
"It looks that way."
My throat tightened.
The subject's hand remained stretched toward me, trembling.
As if begging for something.
As if begging for—
recognition.
My legs moved on their own.
"Elleanore—stop—"
Horace grabbed at my arm.
Chandler reached out once.
Rowan panicked and tugged my sleeve.
Lucian hissed:
"Don't get too close—!"
But I took one step.
Then another.
Drawn by something I didn't understand.
The subject's arm lowered slightly, like it didn't want to frighten me.
A broken whisper rattled through its mask.
"E… li… ot…"
My vision blurred.
My lungs constricted.
It wasn't saying:
"Subject Seven."
It was trying to say:
"Elliot."
The realization hit like a knife.
Rowan broke into tears.
Chandler began shaking with fury.
Horace's breath trembled.
Lucian lowered his tablet.
I reached out.
Not touching—
just lifting my hand, mirroring its gesture.
The subject trembled.
Then—
BOOM—BOOM—BOOM
Heavy metal impacts sounded from down the hall.
Something else was moving.
Lucian's face tightened.
"Everyone back. Now."
Chandler pushed forward to pull me away.
Horace grabbed my wrist.
Rowan tugged at my sleeve.
The subject twisted sharply—
Not toward us.
Toward whatever approached.
It stepped in front of the doorway—
protecting us.
Chandler froze mid-grab.
"What the—?"
Lucian's eyes widened.
"It's guarding the pheromone match."
Rowan whispered:
"It's protecting Elle…"
The subject's cracked mask faced the corridor.
Its breathing became ragged.
It braced itself.
Something large slammed against a distant door.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Horace pulled me back gently, but urgently.
"Whatever's coming—we're not fighting here."
Lucian pointed at an alternate lab door.
"There. Inside!"
Chandler helped Rowan push me back.
But the subject stayed in the doorway—
shaking—
breathing hard—
blocking the hall
with its own body.
Like a shield.
Like instinct.
Like—
loyalty.
Rowan sobbed quietly.
"Elle… he wasn't the only one they tried to replace… was he…?"
My chest hurt.
Lucian ushered us into the lab.
Horace herded us inside protectively.
Chandler kept watch at the door.
Rowan held onto my arm like I'd disappear.
And the subject outside—
the broken remnant of someone's brother, friend, son—
stood firm.
Protecting me.
Even through its mask, a faint sound reached us:
"…El…li…"
No.
Not quite.
Not Elliot.
"Elle."
The door shut behind us.
And darkness swallowed the hallway.