Zarc followed the corridor deeper into the dark, the beam of his flashlight cutting through layers of dust that looked more like ash than dirt. The path sloped downward, air thickening as stale oxygen mixed with the faint metallic tang of radiation. He could feel it — a weight in the air, the kind that spoke of machinery buried far below the world.
Every so often, he'd stop beside a sealed door, sweep his light across faded stenciled markings:"AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY — L-2 SECURITY ACCESS."The keypad beside it was shattered, but when his hand brushed it, the Cube pulsed faintly.
[System Note: Local Power Detected. Secondary Grid Online — L-2 Sector.]
"Guess you're handy after all," he muttered, prying the door open with a rusted crowbar. The hinges groaned but yielded.
The room beyond was vast — old, metallic, the scent of machine oil heavy in the air. Rows of terminals lined the walls, all dead except one flickering screen. He crossed the room slowly, flashlight beam gliding over helmets, old uniforms, dried blood along the floor. Whoever these guards were, they didn't go down fighting. Their rifles were still stacked neatly against a rack, like they'd been ordered to wait.
He exhaled through his teeth. "Not looters, not soldiers. Just… abandoned."
One of the terminals still blinked faintly, light stuttering like a dying heartbeat. He pressed a key. The Cube reacted before he could process it — faint lines of light crawled from his wrist, connecting to the terminal ports.
[Partial Access: Haven Sublevel Complex-3 Power Grid Data.][Warning: Reactor Stability — Critical Low Output.]
The screen sputtered to life, revealing a schematic of the complex. Zarc leaned closer, tracing the glowing diagram with his finger.
"Surface ruins, Admin Wing, Security, Containment… and something else below."
He frowned. Sublevel 4 was listed but marked only as UNKNOWN — SEALED. A hollow pit on the map, pulsing faint red.
Whatever was down there, it hadn't been meant for anyone to see.
He exited the security hub, following the map projection the Cube now displayed faintly on his arm. The path wound downward again, metal walls sweating condensation. Soon, a deep hum filled the air — faint, rhythmic, alive.
He followed it until the hallway opened into a massive chamber.
The generator room was like a cathedral of machinery. Huge coolant pipes hung from the ceiling like vines. In the center stood a half-buried cylindrical core with a faded warning label:"Haven Mini-Reactor — Type-03. Fuel: Compact Fission Rod."
Zarc froze, heart racing. "A damn nuclear core… no wonder the place is still running."
The glass shield over the reactor flickered with warning lights. Radiation levels — mild but steady. The Cube emitted a low pulse.
[Environmental Alert: Gamma Trace Levels Detected.][Processing… Safe Exposure Time — 43 minutes.]
"Noted," Zarc muttered. He moved carefully along the grated catwalk, sweeping his flashlight over the machinery. There were empty toolboxes, broken gauges, and a lone skeleton slumped near a console — a maintenance worker still clutching a tablet.
He crouched, pried it free. The Cube automatically projected fragments of data across his vision.
[Reactor Status: FUEL CELL 02 STABLE — FUEL CELL 03 DEGRADED.][Lockdown Condition Active: Facility Power Limited.]
So that explained the flickering lights above — one cell running on fumes.
"Still operational, though," he murmured, pocketing the tablet. "Good enough for lights. Maybe for a safe place."
He paused, scanning the room again. This entire facility — airtight walls, power source, armory above, sealed lower levels — could be defended. Maybe even rebuilt.
The thought took root quietly in his mind. A base. A real one.
The Cube pulsed again, as if listening.
[Observation Logged.][Proposal: Structural Stability Analysis Available.]
He snorted softly. "You're full of surprises, aren't you?"
Zarc descended another stairwell at the far end of the chamber, this one marked L-3 — Research & Containment. The air grew colder, heavier with the faint scent of burned plastic. His flashlight beam fell across cracked glass pods lining the walls, each one shattered from the inside.
He slowed his steps. Inside the broken pods were stains — black, dry, and crusted thick against the metal floors.
"Jesus…" he muttered under his breath. "What the hell were you people doing down here?"
A faint hum vibrated from the Cube.
[Biological Containment Logs Detected.][Access: Restricted / Fragmented.]
The holographic projection flickered, showing half-corrupted file names: VX-9 Regeneration Trial, Subject Response Time, Prototype Sync Log.None of it made sense, but the words "regeneration" and "subject" made his stomach twist.
He turned his light down the hallway. The far door had collapsed inward, twisted by an old explosion. Beyond it, faint outlines of stair rails descended further into shadow — but the way was completely blocked by rubble.
He crouched at the edge, brushing dust aside. His Cube pulsed faintly, scanning.
[Depth Scan: Sublevel 4 – Unknown Structural Collapse Detected.][Residual Energy Signature Present.]
"Not going down there," Zarc muttered, standing. "Not until I know what's left alive."
He exhaled, wiping grime from his gloves. The facility was massive, dangerous — but it was sealed, and powered. It had a reactor, labs, equipment, and walls that even the infected couldn't breach.
He looked around the dark containment wing, then down at his arm where faint golden light traced under his skin. The Cube's hum was steady now, almost comforting.
"Maybe," he said quietly, "this place could work."
The thought lingered as he turned back toward the stairwell. His flashlight beam cut through the long corridor one last time, catching the flicker of a half-broken Haven logo.Underneath it, half-covered by dust, was a faded warning sign:
PROJECT ORIGIN — AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY
Zarc stared at it for a long while, then turned away.