EPISODE 6: THE FIRST STRIKE
1240 Words
The tunnel beyond the hidden door was narrow and low, like it had never been meant for people — only wires, maintenance bots, and secrets. Seviah ducked her head, one hand trailing along the cool metal wall as the other clenched the note the man in grey had given her.
Nali’s handwriting.
She hadn’t dared unfold it yet.
She couldn’t.
The air buzzed with recycled heat and faint ozone. Somewhere behind her, alarms continued to pulse — distant, but growing louder. She didn’t know how long she had before they realized where she’d gone. The stranger’s override wouldn’t hold for long.
A soft voice hummed in her mind again.
“Left at the blinking light.”
She turned. Not questioning it anymore.
The passage spat her out into a shadowed hallway three levels below the main lab. Pipes lined the walls like veins. She didn’t recognize this area — dimly lit, unmarked. The door at the far end hissed open when she approached, as if sensing her presence.
Inside was a corridor filled with trainees.
Three of them.
All in gray training suits. All staring at her like she’d just stepped out of a dream… or a nightmare.
“That’s her,” one whispered. A girl, younger than her. “The one from Room Six.”
“She’s not supposed to be down here,” said the taller boy beside her.
Seviah stepped back.
“I’m not here to fight.”
“You don’t belong here.”
The third trainee — older, solid frame, sharp jaw — stepped forward. He had a burn mark on the side of his neck, like lightning had kissed him too close.
“You’re the Collector.”
Seviah froze.
“What did you just call me?”
“They said you were dormant. That it would take weeks. But you lit up the whole facility.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.
“They’re going to use you to start the next sweep.”
“I’m trying to get out—”
“Then prove it.”
He lunged.
Faster than she thought possible.
She dodged, barely, but he caught her wrist — and the moment he touched her, a jolt of heat surged between them.
Both of them gasped.
Seviah’s vision flashed white.
In his eyes, she saw something—
A lab. A name. A scream.
“Let go,” she hissed.
“What did you do—?!”
“I said—”
Her body reacted before she could stop it.
A pulse.
Silver-blue. Pure. Blinding.
It knocked him back — hard. He slammed into the wall, crumpling like his bones had forgotten how to hold him. The other two screamed and scrambled back, one of them pressing a call beacon.
“Don’t—!” Seviah shouted.
Too late.
The boy groaned on the floor, limbs twitching like his body was still trying to remember how to breathe.
Seviah backed away slowly, heart pounding in her throat. Her hands were glowing. Again. Not like fire, but like light trapped beneath skin — alive and reaching for a way out.
The two other trainees stared at her like she’d grown horns. The younger one — the girl — had tears in her eyes, but she didn’t move to help her fallen friend.
“What did you do to him?” she whispered.
“I didn’t mean to—” Seviah started, but even her voice betrayed her. She didn’t sound innocent. She didn’t feel innocent. She felt like something had cracked open again — and this time it didn’t want to close.
The taller boy recovered first. He stepped in front of the girl protectively, one hand reaching behind his back.
Seviah raised her palms in surrender.
“Don’t. I don’t want to fight you.”
“You just threw Kero into a wall without touching him.”
“He attacked first.”
“Because you’re dangerous.”
“Because I’m scared.”
He didn’t lower his hand.
She didn’t lower hers either.
Somewhere down the hall, another alarm wailed — this one shriller. A zone breach siren.
They were coming.
Seviah turned toward the access door behind her. It blinked red. Locked.
“Move,” she said to the trainees. “Please.”
“You’re not leaving.”
“Watch me.”
The taller boy lunged.
But this time, Seviah didn’t blast him. She ducked — sharp, fast, practiced — and swept his legs. He hit the ground with a grunt, losing his grip on the baton he’d drawn.
Seviah caught it before it hit the floor.
The girl shrieked and scrambled to Kero’s side.
“We didn’t even know your name,” she whispered.
“Good,” Seviah muttered. “Keep it that way.”
She turned to run — and stopped.
The hallway lights flickered.
A shadow moved at the far end.
Not guards.
Not staff.
Trainees.
More of them.
Five. Maybe six. All wearing the same grey. All moving as one.
Seviah froze. The girl behind her whimpered.
“They’re from Block 9.”
“Who are they?”
“The ones who have already survived the Gift.”
They were silent as they approached. Not even footsteps echoed. Their eyes… some glowed faintly. One had crackling lines along her cheek, like lightning veins. Another held his hand in a fist that sparked gently with static.
The leader, a girl with a shaved head and a scar down her jaw, stopped just short of the unconscious boy on the floor.
She looked at Seviah.
Smiled.
“There you are.”
“Who are you?” Seviah asked.
“The ones sent to collect you. Alive or not.”
“Why?”
The girl didn’t answer.
Instead, she tilted her head and whispered something to her team.
They moved forward.
Seviah didn’t move. Not yet.
The man in grey took another step forward, his eyes scanning the fallen trainees as if counting how many were still breathing.
“What did you do to them?” he asked quietly.
“I didn’t mean to do anything.”
“That’s the problem. You’re already reacting without choice.”
He reached into his coat and pulled something out — a data stick. He tossed it at her feet.
“Use this. Download your file before they wipe it. You need to know what you are.”
“I don’t care—”
“You will,” he said. Because soon, someone you love is going to die in your place. And you’re going to want to know why they chose you.”
His voice wasn’t angry. It was sad.
Almost like he’d already seen it happen.
“Go left,” he added. Maintenance wing. Access Panel 12B. They haven’t sealed it yet.”
“How do I know you’re not using me?”
“You don’t,” he said. “But if I were lying, you’d already be dead.”
The lights flickered again. Then dimmed to red.
“What now?” Seviah asked.
The man in grey exhaled, slow and heavy.
“They just authorized a Phase 6 protocol.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means they’ve stopped trying to contain you.”
“So what are they sending?”
He looked straight at her.
“Killers.”
A sharp, robotic click echoed in the vents above them.
Boots.
Metal scraping against metal.
- Writer
