CONTAINMENT ZERO: PROJECT SHADOW CODE

The darkness smelled of chlorine, rusty metal, and wet concrete. A combination that boded poorly for whatever came next. Zamora jolted awake. Ice-cold metal jarred her senses as distant alarms wailed overhead. Flashing lights strobed through heavy iron bars, blurring her vision. She fought for breath. Her chest felt tight, and everything felt wrong in a way that went deeper than the cold floor. Where the hell was she? What was her last memory? Nothing. The answer hit harder than the metal had. Not a name. Not a face. Not a place. It wasn't blank, it was missing, like someone had reached in and taken it. Panic clawed up her throat. Everyone forgot things. Nobody forgot everything. She forced herself upright, and a wave of vertigo nearly sent her right back down. Every muscle ached like she'd been dragged behind something moving very fast. Cold steel walls boxed in the cramped cell. Overhead, a leaking pipe dripped onto the stained concrete. Drip. Drip. Drip. Numbers and warnings had been scratched into the walls by previous occupants. 17 DAYS LEFT. DON'T TRUST FLOOR 3. THEY ALWAYS COME BACK WRONG. Her stomach tightened. One message had been carved so deep the metal had warped outward around the letters, like whoever wrote it had really wanted it to stick. IF YOU HEAR YOUR NAME, RUN. Beneath it, in different handwriting: IT ALREADY KNOWS YOURS. "…What the f**k," she whispered. BOOOOOOOOOOM. The entire facility shuddered, and dust rained from the ceiling. Distant screams echoed from somewhere below, and heavy blast doors slammed shut. Then a voice rolled through the prison, not human, not robotic, but something that had clearly studied both and picked up bad habits from each. WELCOME, PLAYERS. CONTAINMENT ZERO HAS BEEN INITIATED. The corridor lights snapped from flickering white to blood red. Her pulse spiked. "What…?" Voices erupted from every direction. "What is this?!" "LET ME OUT!" "Who are you, people?!" Bodies slammed against bars. Fists pounded steel. Panic spread through the prison like it had been waiting for an excuse. Zamora stumbled to the bars and looked out, and her breath caught. This wasn't a prison. It was a vertical nightmare, endless rows of cells stacked upward and downward into darkness, an abyss with seating. Hundreds, maybe thousands of people filled the cells. Some screamed. Some cried. Some just stared. An older man sat motionless against his wall, eyes completely hollow. A younger man laughed to himself, the kind of laugh that didn't stop when it should. Further down, a woman dropped to her knees the second the announcement began. "No…" Her voice shook. "No, no, no… not again…" Zamora went still. Again? "What do you mean, again?" The woman looked up. Confusion crossed her face first. Then pure terror. "I don't know." She grabbed her head. "I just—" Her breathing went ragged. "I remember saying it before." She looked more frightened by her own sentence than by anything else in the room, which, given the room, was saying something. Before Zamora could respond, the system spoke again. OBJECTIVE: ESCAPE LEVEL ONE. Small screens on every cell door flickered to life. A timer appeared. 23:59:59 "What the hell is Level One?!" someone screamed. No answer. Instead— CLANK. Every cell door unlocked at once, the sound rolling through the prison like a held breath being let go. For a second, nobody moved. Then the system spoke again, almost in a conversational tone. PLAYER GUEST1122 HAS BEEN ELIMINATED. GAME OVER. The voice cut off. Several prisoners frowned. "What was that?" "Did anyone else hear that?" Then— A scream tore up from somewhere below. Not fear. Not panic. Pure, agonizing pain. The system, calm as ever: PLAYER GUEST102 HAS BEEN ELIMINATED. GAME OVER. The prison exploded into chaos. People flooded out of their cells. "What's happening?!" "WHERE'S THE EXIT?!" "IS THIS A GAME?!" Bodies shoved past each other. Some sprinted. Others froze entirely. One man sat inside his cell, refusing to move, muttering the same thing over and over. "This isn't real. This isn't real." A massive prisoner grabbed another survivor by the shirt and slammed him into the railing. "You know something, don't you?!" "I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!" the man sobbed. More screams from below—closer now. Louder. CRUNCH. The sound silenced dozens of people at once. PLAYER KALI HAS BEEN ELIMINATED. GAME OVER. Panic surged. Whatever was below them was getting closer. Fast. Zamora gripped the railing and looked down. The red emergency lights barely reached the lower levels. A shadow moved. Disappeared. Her pulse hammered. Every instinct screamed run, and then movement caught her eye. A man stood near the far end of the corridor, completely still, untouched by the chaos around him. Long dark hair framed a pale face. Crimson eyes took in the panicked crowd like he'd seen this exact scene before and found it mildly tedious. A strange jolt hit her chest, impossible recognition. She'd never seen him before. Had she? Their eyes met, and pain exploded through her skull. Fragments of broken memory surfaced. Blood. A city collapsing. Screams. Fire. Someone shouting her name. The images vanished as fast as they came. She staggered, hands flying to her temples. "What the hell…" Across the corridor, the stranger frowned. His crimson eyes narrowed, like he'd felt it too. Like something had passed between them, and he didn't appreciate the intrusion. Then— Every light in the prison died, and darkness swallowed everything. People screamed. Somewhere nearby, someone fell. The entire facility dropped into pitch-black silence. Then the system spoke one last time, its voice softer now. Almost amused. WARNING:—