The monitor in Sector 4 had been a flat line for twenty-two years. Most technicians at the Chimera Institute called it the "Ghost Screen." It tracked a specific biological frequency—a wavelength that didn't exist in humans, animals, or nature itself.
Dr. Aris adjusted her glasses, glaring at the empty grid. "It's a waste of power, Commander. The Chiropterans are extinct. We're hunting fairy tales."
Commander Vale stood behind her, a man composed of sharp angles and expensive synthetics. He ignored the data stream, studying the reflection of the world map on the glass instead.
"Extinct implies they died out naturally, Doctor," Vale said, his voice smooth and cold. "They didn't. They went dormant."
The speakers popped.
Thump.
The room went dead. Every technician froze.
Thump… Thump.
A spike jagged across the Ghost Screen. It was rhythmic, heavy, and violent. It wasn't just a heartbeat; it was a command.
"Location?" Vale snapped. His calm facade cracked into a predatory grin.
Dr. Aris's fingers flew across the console. "Triangulating… The signal is weak, masked by heavy limestone interference." She hit a final key. "Coordinates confirmed. Japan. Okinawa Prefecture."
Vale strode to the back of the room and punched a code into a heavy, sealed case. It hissed open to reveal the Type-Z Resonance Emitters—weapons designed not to cut skin, but to shatter crystal.
"The Queen is waking up," Vale announced, lifting one of the emitters. It hummed with a deadly violet light. "Contact the Retrieval Team. Initiate Protocol Silence."
"And the Guardian?" Aris pressed, one hand clamped over her headset as she listened to the raw audio feed. "Records say she is never alone. The rhythm is accelerating, Commander. The amplitude suggests she is distressed. Hungry."
Vale inspected the weapon, the violet light reflecting in his pale eyes. "If the Guardian is still there, then he has been starving for thirty years. He isn't a threat. He's target practice."
He deactivated the emitter and slid it into a holster beneath his tailored jacket—a motion practiced and fluid.
"Hunger makes them sloppy," Vale said, tapping his comms link. "Control, this is Vale. Greenlight the Black Sands unit. We are wheels up in ten minutes. I want a perimeter established around the target zone before the sun sets in Okinawa."
"Sir," a distorted voice crackled back. "We have a high civilian population density in the target quadrant. Collateral parameters?"
Vale paused at the blast doors. He didn't look back at Aris, the trembling technicians, or the screen that was now pulsing with a frantic, jagged rhythm.
"Containment is absolute," he said. "If they see us, they don't leave the zone. Burn it all if you have to."
The blast doors hissed shut, sealing the lab in recycled air.
Dr. Aris remained at the console. The heartbeat on the screen grew louder, a bass-heavy thud that seemed to vibrate in the marrow of her bones. She looked at the coordinates on the map—a small, coastal town in Okinawa.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
It sounded like footsteps approaching a door.
"God help them," she whispered.