CHAPTER FIVE:THE OTHER LIST
1358 Words
****
It was just after 3 a.m. when the world woke up to the third death.
*#19: Senator Alina Greaves.*
Live on the Senate floor, mid-speech, she’d collapsed — mouth foaming, eyes wide in horror — clawing at her throat like something inside was eating its way out.
Security rushed in. Too late.
The livestream cut, but not fast enough.
By dawn, the footage had gone viral.
The killer made sure of it.
***
Arielle stood at a bus stop, not waiting for a bus. Hoodie pulled low, laptop in her bag, flash drive still clutched in her coat pocket. Her phone vibrated violently.
An unknown number.
She didn’t answer.
Instead, a message flashed across the cracked screen:
> **“3 down.
> 74 to go.
> You were never meant to escape the list.”**
Her pulse spiked.
She turned slowly — scanning the crowd.
Nothing. Just strangers with earbuds. Phones. Faces buried in distractions.
But she knew. *Someone was watching.* Always.
***
She returned to her apartment in silence, locking all three deadbolts.
There was something she hadn’t tried yet — a deeper dive into the drive’s *hidden partition*.
The system required biometric access. She scanned her thumb.
Accepted.
A file tree opened: *ARCHIVE / E77 / HANDLERS*
Inside were 77 new names.
But these weren’t the same as the first list.
These weren’t victims.
They were *scientists*, doctors, behavioral specialists. Architects of something buried decades ago.
She recognized one instantly: *Dr. Harlan Vane.*
The others? Unfamiliar.
Except—
*#12 – Julia Knox.*
Her breath caught.
Julia wasn’t just her guardian.
She was part of the project. One of the people who *created* it. She’d raised Arielle not out of love… but possibly guilt. Or control.
A sick realization settled in.
What if she hadn’t been protecting her?
What if she’d been *monitoring* her?
***
Arielle scrolled.
Two more names on the handler list were *already dead* — deaths the media had passed off as accidents.
She opened the case reports.
*Dr. Martin Easley – car crash, brakes cut.*
[27/12, 6:51 pm] ChatGPT: Then she saw something that made her knees buckle.
Behind the anchor, on a blurred screen, a new list had been leaked.
Not the original list.
A *photo of names written in blood*, pinned to the wall of a crime scene.
And at the top of this new list, written in larger letters:
> *“THE REMAINING SIX.”*
Beneath it were six names. Five were redacted.
One was still visible:
*“Arielle Knox”*
***
Her phone vibrated again.
This time, no number.
Just a message:
> **“The mask isn't just a symbol.
> It’s a role.
> One of you wears it to kill.
> The other wears it to wake up.
> Who are you becoming, A77?”**
---
*Next: Chapter 6 – *The Sixth Name**
More deaths, a direct face-to-face with Noah (or someone wearing his face), and a horrifying truth: *someone is forcing Arielle toward her own activation.*
Ready to continue?
[27/12, 6:51 pm] ChatGPT: *Dr. Rebecca Sorn – overdose. Found with a burned “77” etched into her wall.*
The killer wasn’t just targeting the subjects.
They were hunting *both lists*.
Victims and creators.
A full purge.
***
Her email pinged.
She opened it cautiously.
No sender. No subject. Just a single attachment: *“A77_WAKE.exe”*
She hovered.
Then clicked.
The screen went black.
A video played.
Surveillance footage — grainy, timestamped 2001.
A lab. A restrained teenager — maybe 13 — strapped to a gurney.
The girl’s face was covered, but Arielle recognized the body language. The way the arms twitched. The breathing.
It was her.
Dr. Vane stood nearby, younger but still cold-eyed.
His voice echoed through the audio:
> “She retains fragments. But no full recall.
> Handlers Knox and Easley suggest wiping again.
> She may not be a subject anymore.
> She may be a *carrier*.”
The term echoed in Arielle’s skull.
*Carrier.*
Of what?
***
Suddenly, her screen glitched.
A new video auto-played.
This time, not old footage.
A man, sitting in a dimly lit room.
No mask.
Just shadows.
But she could make out the face. Barely.
*Noah.*
Older now. Cold. Blank-eyed.
> “I told you I’d remember you,” he whispered.
> “They think I’m doing this to kill them. But it’s not punishment.
[27/12, 6:51 pm] ChatGPT: Then she saw something that made her knees buckle.
Behind the anchor, on a blurred screen, a new list had been leaked.
Not the original list.
A *photo of names written in blood*, pinned to the wall of a crime scene.
And at the top of this new list, written in larger letters:
> *“THE REMAINING SIX.”*
Beneath it were six names. Five were redacted.
One was still visible:
*“Arielle Knox”*
***
Her phone vibrated again.
This time, no number.
Just a message:
> **“The mask isn't just a symbol.
> It’s a role.
> One of you wears it to kill.
> The other wears it to wake up.
> Who are you becoming, A77?”**
---
*Next: Chapter 6 – *The Sixth Name**
More deaths, a direct face-to-face with Noah (or someone wearing his face), and a horrifying truth: *someone is forcing Arielle toward her own activation.*
Ready to continue?
[27/12, 6:51 pm] ChatGPT: *Dr. Rebecca Sorn – overdose. Found with a burned “77” etched into her wall.*
The killer wasn’t just targeting the subjects.
They were hunting *both lists*.
Victims and creators.
A full purge.
***
Her email pinged.
She opened it cautiously.
No sender. No subject. Just a single attachment: *“A77_WAKE.exe”*
She hovered.
Then clicked.
The screen went black.
A video played.
Surveillance footage — grainy, timestamped 2001.
A lab. A restrained teenager — maybe 13 — strapped to a gurney.
The girl’s face was covered, but Arielle recognized the body language. The way the arms twitched. The breathing.
It was her.
Dr. Vane stood nearby, younger but still cold-eyed.
His voice echoed through the audio:
> “She retains fragments. But no full recall.
> Handlers Knox and Easley suggest wiping again.
> She may not be a subject anymore.
> She may be a *carrier*.”
The term echoed in Arielle’s skull.
*Carrier.*
Of what?
***
Suddenly, her screen glitched.
A new video auto-played.
This time, not old footage.
A man, sitting in a dimly lit room.
No mask.
Just shadows.
But she could make out the face. Barely.
*Noah
.*
Older now. Cold. Blank-eyed.
> “I told you I’d remember you,” he whispered.
> “They think I’m doing this to kill them. But it’s not punishment.
Arielle didn’t sleep that night.
She sat curled on the floor of her Apartment, back against the cold wall , laptop dimmed behind her. her reflection in the screen looked like someone else now- like a shadow of herself.
was she the hunter or the prey?
was she created to survive... or to reset the system ?
somewhere, Noah was watching. or waiting
He'd said she was "waking up".
But waking up to what ?.
The dreams were getting louder. the memories sharper.
she could see the white walls of Room 77 in her mind again . Hear the hum of fluorescent lights .smell burnt rubbers and chemicals .
And voices.
Always voices.
> *“Subject A77 is emotionally dormant.”*
> *“Begin conditioning phase four.”*
> *“She must never remember who gave the order.”*
Arielle stood slowly. Her legs were stiff.
She walked to her bathroom, flicked on the light.
Her eyes stared back from the mirror.
Empty.
Then—
For the briefest second, the mirror *flickered*.
Her own reflection tilted its head… *just a fraction too slowly.*
She stepped back.
And as her breath fogged the mirror, a symbol appeared in the condensation:
*“77”*
Slashed through. just like at the facility.
written from the inside .
- Writer
