Somewhere in Deep Space
The chamber pulsed faintly with light—not from lamps but from the walls themselves, as though the room's metal skin was alive and breathing. Shadows moved within it—neither fully formed nor formless. They didn't walk. They drifted.
A figure stood at the center—taller than the rest, its silhouette blurred against the soft glow of the void beyond. When it spoke, the sound bent the air. It was not a voice, exactly, but a sequence of tones, pulses, and layered frequencies that shouldn't have harmonized—but did.
"Ȼha'ten vel murakai… Earthen-initiation phase: progressing."
Another shape responded from the dark. This one was smaller but colder—calculated. Its reply was soft, almost reverent.
"Timeline is stable. Response from local systems: disorganized… manageable."
The tall one tilted slightly as if listening beyond the chamber—beyond time.
"They awaken slower than projected. But the seed takes root. Earth will mature… soon."
There was silence. A long pause. Then, the voice again—this time, lower, addressing something unseen:
"We may have found an asset."
The chamber dimmed again as if the thought alone required power.
"Shall I proceed to activate Phase Two?"
No answer came. Only the soft hum of the chamber, shifting in color—turning a hue with no name.
And then, one final whisper, almost swallowed by the dark:
"They won't understand what's coming. Not until it's far too late."
Blackridge Penitentiary—Perimeter Arrival
The convoy cut through the foggy outskirts of the Badlands—armored and matte black, like shadows riding steel. Helicopters circled briefly overhead, then veered off, leaving only the deep hum of engine pulses and the occasional radio crackle.
Inside the lead transport, Elric Vahn sat quietly, hands clasped in front of him, flanked by elite security operatives dressed in hybrid tactical suits—military-grade with subtle Novareum insignia stitched beneath the collar. These weren't ordinary soldiers. These were his picks.
As they neared the front gates, the monstrous silhouette of Blackridge emerged—razor-tipped towers piercing the overcast sky like jagged knives. The penitentiary loomed, surrounded by electromagnetic fencing, drone surveillance systems, and sentry turrets that tracked motion like predators. It wasn't just a prison—it was a fortress. Built to hold what the world could no longer afford to understand.
The convoy halted before the main checkpoint. A uniformed warden approached cautiously. Protocols had to be honored—even when facing someone like Elric.
"Identification and authorization," the guard said firmly.
One of Elric's aides handed over the data tablet. The warden scanned it. A moment passed. Then two. The tablet beeped—a high-security clearance flashed across the interface, followed by an omega-tier classification tag.
The warden stiffened slightly. "Apologies, sir. You're clear."
From there, it was a layered descent: biometric scans, retinal checkpoints, weapon lockdown zones, and signature-based elevator access. Every step closer to the core of Blackridge meant crossing another security threshold.
Finally, Elric stood before the reinforced glass of the observation chamber, peering into a long, sterile hallway that led to the interrogation suites.
"I want a private session," Elric said flatly.
"With which inmate, sir?" the warden asked.
Elric's voice was deliberate. "Transfer inmate 047-19 to Room 4B. No audience. No surveillance."
The warden hesitated. "That protocol requires special—"
Elric raised an eyebrow.
The man swallowed hard. "Understood. We'll make the preparations."
Holding Chamber—Prep Phase...
Inmate 047-19 sat still, legs crossed, wrists locked in place by magnetic cuffs. His head was shaved clean, eyes dull with the kind of boredom only the caged knew well—but beneath it, a pulse of awareness still lingered.
Two guards approached, motioning without speaking. He rose without resistance. They led him down a narrow hallway, passing blast doors and observation lenses.
He didn't ask where he was going.
He never asked.
They reached Room 4B, which was sterile and dimly lit—a chair and a reinforced wall panel with an embedded speaker node. There were no windows. There was only one exit, the one behind him.
He sat.
Then the speaker clicked on.
Interrogation Room—One-Way Observation
Elric Vahn stepped inside the observation bay behind the mirrored glass. For a moment, he watched the man inside. Calm. Calculated. Still holding onto the ghost of who he once was.
"Let's speak without the walls," Elric said to the operator. "Audio sync, direct channel."
A soft beep. Channel open.
Elric leaned forward and, for the first time, addressed him not as a number but as the legend buried in files.
"Luca Ferini… Shadow Fox… We have unfinished business."
There was no response.
Not yet.
But the faint twitch in the inmate's jaw said more than words.
The silence between them pulsed like a heartbeat in a sealed vault. Elric Vahn stood poised to speak, the weight of command behind him.
But before he could finish his next breath—
"You."
The word cut through the air like a blade.
Elric paused.
"You put me in here."
The voice wasn't loud. It didn't need to be. There was a calm venom behind each syllable—like someone who had relived the betrayal a thousand times and still felt it burn just the same.
Luca Ferini lifted his eyes, steady and unblinking.
"You used me. And left me for dead."
Elric's jaw tensed, but he remained still.
"The mission was delicate," he said. "We couldn't afford a loose end—especially not you. After what you saw… you knew too much."
Luca let out a dry laugh, low and bitter.
"I knew you'd say that."
"You sold it well back then. All those promises. Funding. A full reset. Wipe the records and start over. I was desperate enough to believe it."
He leaned forward now, cuffs clinking softly as they tightened with the motion.
"I remember it like it was yesterday."
Flashback—Classified Operation: Codename "Deepwake Protocol"...
A remote bioengineering compound—hidden beneath the icy crust of Mount Brevig, Eastern Siberia. Rumors spoke of it as a joint rogue lab—one not recognized by any government yet funded by all of them. The mission was simple on paper: infiltrate, extract a data core, destroy all active research, and leave no trace.
But it was anything but simple.
Inside were unauthorized experiments—genetic splicing, neural override tech, biological AI trials—proof of things no country wanted the world to know they were complicit in. Luca, the only operative with the skillset to ghost in and out of a fortress like that, was perfect.
Elric had promised him a full pardon, an erased past, and a new identity.
Luca got in. Barely.
He secured the data core, overloaded the fusion dampeners, and made it to the extraction point bleeding and exhausted—only to find nothing. No evac team, no signal. Radio silence.
Then, the Blackridge black ops team arrived.
They didn't ask questions. They sedated him on sight.
Back to Room 4B
Luca's stare burned now, fierce and accusing.
"I thought I got caught. I blamed the risk. The op."
"But the more I sat here, the more it made sense."
"You orchestrated it. You sent me in to do your dirty work and let Blackridge clean up the rest."
Elric didn't flinch. He had heard far worse from men with far less reason.
"We couldn't let anyone know what you saw," he said. "Even I didn't have the clearance to unseal half of what was in that lab. You didn't just walk straight into a breach—you stepped into a cold war waiting to ignite."
Luca leaned back in the chair, lips curling into a crooked smile.
"So what now?" he asked. "You came all this way to bury me again?"
Elric finally stepped into the light, voice firm but not unkind.
"I've come to give you your freedom."
That silenced the room.
"Come with me," Elric said. "Something is coming… and I need you in the field again."