Chapter 3. Is This the End?

Neon light cut into my eyes.

My heart pounded as if it were about to burst out of my chest.

The biocore was heating up. Not painful — unsettling.

I could feel its presence, as if a foreign organ had begun living a life of its own.

Cycle particles trailed behind me like a tail. Bright. Visible.

If they can see this — I’m done.

Shouts echoed behind me:

— Split up!

— Lock down the block!

Seconds to decide.

Blend into the crowd.

Or go down.

I chose the stairs.

Emergency stairs. Concrete. Slick with moisture.

I flew down them, skipping two steps at a time, barely feeling my legs.

Behind me — the clang of metal.

Upper levels were already being sealed.

Down below, the air was different.

Heavy. Warm. Saturated with ozone and old dampness.

Level of Tower-7.

The city’s service gut — officially “forgotten.”

Cables as thick as an arm stretched along the walls.

Pipes pulsed as if alive.

Water dripped somewhere.

An energy core hummed dully somewhere deeper.

And then the biocore reacted.

Pain — sharp, brief.

Something twisted in my chest.

Particles flashed before my eyes.

There were far more of them here. They weren’t just hanging — they were flowing.

Forming weak streams, like invisible rivers crossing the space.

WARNING

Cycle overload: 38%

Recommended: reduce activity

— Perfect… — I whispered.

And right then I heard voices:

— …Signal’s gone, but the anomaly is definitely here. Lower levels.

— Copy. Deploying drones.

Something hummed in the darkness.

At first — faint.

Then — closer.

Light cut through the corridor in thin cones.

Several. Even. Mechanical.

Drones.

My eyes locked onto the шлюз doors.

Old. Heavy. Yellow-and-black hazard stripes long since faded.

Scratched metal. The control panel half-dead: cracked screen, blinking indicators as if still deciding whether they were alive at all.

The drones buzzed behind me. Closer. Clearer.

I grabbed the panel. My fingers shook. My heart slammed against my ribs.

The screen flashed text:

EMERGENCY ACCESS

CONFIRM BIOMETRICS

— You’ve got to be kidding me… — I whispered.

And that’s when the biocore answered on its own.

A sharp stab in my chest.

My heart skipped: one… two… pause…

Cold rushed through my body as Cycle particles tore free and wove into the panel, as if searching for the system’s old logic.

Cycle overload: 52%

Biometrics: NOT CONFIRMED

Alternative key: DETECTED

The doors groaned.

Slowly.

Painfully slowly.

A gap — one centimeter. Two.

And then a CORD-7 drone emerged from around the corner.

Black. Compact. A red sensor ring glowing.

— Target detected. Do not move.

The laser touched my chest. Right where the biocore was.

The doors still weren’t fully open.

My body screamed in pain.

The Cycle was unstable… but it obeyed.

I felt the light particles trembling around me.

As if they were afraid too.

Seriously… is this even safe?..

To hell with it.

I bolted into the maintenance tunnels.

Drones behind me.

— Target is dangerous. Stop immediately.

Yeah. Sure.

— Non-compliance detected. Opening fire.

Red flashes tore through the darkness. I dove aside, sliding across the wet floor.

One drone hit a pipe — metal screamed as it ruptured, and dense, scalding steam burst outward.

— Shit!

The system malfunctioned.

Two drones collided — explosion. Shards of metal scattered through the tunnel.

One left.

Luck? Or a trap?..

I was about to turn sharply right when a shot slammed into my shoulder.

Pain tore through me. My legs gave out — I fell.

The drone hovered above me.

The red sensor ring stared straight into my eyes.

— Target in sight. Eliminate.

And suddenly — silence.

The drone jerked… and crashed to the floor.

— …Control failure. Technical… technical…

It seized up.

Doesn’t matter.

Run. Now.

I clenched my teeth, forced myself up, limping toward the doors. Slammed the panel — the шлюз opened.

The last thing I saw was a silhouette.

Dark. Motionless.

As if it had been waiting.

— Found you…

Impact.

Sharp. Dull.

And — darkness.

…DARKNESS

At first — nothing.

No pain. No sound. No body.

Then — rhythm.

Slow. Dull. Not mine.

Thump…

Thump…

A heart?

No. Too steady. Too чужe.

Light seeps in — not harsh, warm, diffused.

Cycle particles float in the darkness, but now they’re calm. Not tearing. Not pulling. Just… existing.

I’m lying on metal.

The metal beneath my back is warm.

The smell isn’t blood or oil — but ozone and herbs.

A strange combination. Wrong.

— Don’t move, — a voice says nearby. Calm. Confident.

— No sudden motions.

I try to shift — pain explodes in my shoulder. Wrapped. Compressed.

The biocore is muted.

My heart… hurts, but holds.

A silhouette sits nearby. Now I can see him better.

A half-mask covers his face. I’ve never seen him before.

Not CORD-7. Not corporate. Different.

— CORD-7 is sweeping the levels, — he continues.

His gaze drifts upward, toward the ceiling.

— They’ll reach this place soon.

A pause.

— What do you think? — he suddenly asks.

— What?.. Me?.. — I repeat, confused.

He exhales.

— There’s one question I can’t let go of. Why?

Why did you install the biocore?

How empty does your head have to be to do something like that?

I stay silent.

Not because I don’t want to answer.

But because it hurts.

And because the answer… doesn’t exist.

— It’s a shame it turned out this way, — he says quietly.

— You do realize… you won’t survive.

I freeze.

The words get stuck somewhere inside me.

…Is this really the end?