That night, the air in the room felt heavier than ever. Dim lights cast shadows across their tired, anxious faces. They sat in a quiet circle, restrained by light cuffs—secure, but not locked down. Watched, but not completely imprisoned.
Lirael slowly stood up, her gaze fixed on the small barred window.
"We can't stay here. This place isn't for us. We have to get out… tonight," she said, her voice low but firm.
Riven looked up, skeptical. "You sure? This place is crawling with soldiers. They've got weapons, scanners, maybe even aliens."
Elior glanced at the clock on the wall. "But their shifts change around midnight. That's probably our best shot. If we're careful."
Nyssa turned toward the door. "If we do this, we need a plan. A real one. We don't leave anyone behind."
Veyra, smirking slightly, leaned in. "Relax. I know a service route—found it by accident. It's not on their main maps. But we'll have to move fast… and stay silent."
They looked at each other, tension thick in the silence.
And then, one by one, they nodded.
Tonight… they would try to escape.
Elsewhere in the facility, the atmosphere was colder and quieter. Pale blue lights flickered overhead, casting a sterile glow across the steel walls. Peterson sat alone in a metal chair, leaning back, a cigarette between his fingers. Smoke curled lazily around him, softening the edges of his otherwise sharp features.
The door creaked open. A uniformed officer stepped in, approaching with purpose. In his hands, he carried a dark tactical vest bearing a small lightning insignia on the chest.
Officer:
"Lieutenant Peterson. It's time. The Commander wants you to lead tonight's perimeter patrol."
Peterson took one last drag from his cigarette, then extinguished it calmly. Rising to his feet, he accepted the vest without a word.
He slipped it on, adjusting the straps with practiced ease. For a moment, he glanced at his reflection in the small wall mirror—calm, sharp-eyed, unreadable.
But behind that composed mask… something stirred. Doubt. A quiet tension buried deep, invisible to everyone else.
Peterson's footsteps echoed down the metallic corridor of the underground base. His military boots struck the floor with steady purpose. Ahead, a dark, windowless tactical train awaited—silent, armored, and built for swift movement through secured tunnels.
A heavily armored commander approached, holding a tablet and a map.
Commander:
"You'll take the rail unit, Peterson. The rest of the teams are deploying via armored trucks. The mission is clear: eliminate or capture any remaining humans hiding in Sector Three's shadow zone. Leave no survivors."
Peterson gave a curt nod. No questions. No emotion. He climbed into the front of the train, sitting beside a silent operative clutching a pulse rifle.
Elsewhere above ground, military trucks rumbled to life. Their massive tires crushed gravel and steel underfoot. Red lights blinked atop each vehicle—this wasn't a routine patrol. It was a calculated hunt.
As the train began moving, Peterson looked back toward the distant wall of the base—the direction of the restricted wing where Lirael and the others were held.
For a moment, just a moment, doubt flickered in his eyes.
Peterson (to himself):
"If they try to escape tonight… I may not be able to protect them anymore."
Inside the dimly lit room, tension hung thick in the air. Lirael nodded to Kael, then whispered, "Now."
Kael gave a signal. They moved swiftly but silently, slipping toward a narrow maintenance hallway behind their quarters.
Elsewhere down the corridor, Serin and Nyssa stepped toward the guard post.
Nyssa spoke loudly, pretending to panic:
"Excuse me! One of us passed out. Can you help? We need water, or maybe... oxygen?"
Serin, with a convincingly worried expression, added,
"Please, quickly—before it gets worse!"
The guard, momentarily suspicious, eventually stepped away from his post.
That's when Riven, Elior, and Veyra emerged from the shadows of another hallway, signaling the main group to slip through the back route.
Riven whispered to Kael, "Don't waste time. I marked a path near the engine room. There's a small opening that leads to the cargo lift."
Elior monitored wall sensors on a stolen tablet. "We've got three minutes before the perimeter system cycles back on."
Veyra, with a slight smirk, slid a small blade into her boot. "If we get caught, I'm not running."
Lirael took a deep breath. Together, they sprinted down the dark corridor—their footsteps like shadows: quiet, but heavy with urgency.
They reached the long, narrow corridor, breaths heavy but spirits burning bright! Kael and Lirael led the others carefully and swiftly! Suddenly, from the shadows, two figures appeared—strangers to them!
A young man with a mischievous grin stepped forward!
"That's me, Taren!" he said confidently!
Beside him stood a tomboyish girl with long hair tied back neatly! Her face was serious, but her eyes showed fierce determination!
"Help us get out of here!" Taren said, glancing quickly behind him!
Lirael was surprised but immediately saw an opportunity.
"Why are you helping us?" Nyssa asked cautiously!
Taren shrugged and chuckled softly.
"I'm bored staying here. If you want to run, I'm ready to be your escape buddy!"
The tomboy girl added,
"We know a lot of secret paths. Follow us if you want to survive!"
Everyone exchanged glances and nodded. Quickly, they joined forces and moved together through the dark corridors toward freedom!
They moved quickly and cautiously through the corridors toward the exit door. Ahead, several guards stood ready, weapons in hand.
The tomboy girl glanced at the group, then without hesitation slipped toward the parked vehicles. Skillfully, she opened the door of an old sports car tucked away in the corner.
"Follow me!" she called out, starting the engine with a low, rumbling roar.
One by one, they jumped into the car. Kael and Lirael took the front seats while the others squeezed into the back.
The tomboy pressed the gas pedal, and the car sped through the dark parking garage, heading straight for the heavily guarded gate.
The guards, caught off guard, froze — unable to react as the car roared past, leaving them confused and behind.
Outside, the night air greeted them, bringing new hope… and dangers yet to come.
In front of the CCTV screens, Dr. Varn stared sharply at the speeding vehicle. His voice was cold and challenging.
"Chase them! Don't let a single one escape!"
He muttered quietly as he watched the monitors.
"They think they can just run away…"
Inside the car, Elior glanced at the tomboy girl driving. His face showed curiosity.
"I think I've seen her somewhere before…"
Taren looked ahead, then tapped Elior's shoulder with a small laugh.
"Her name? I remember! But don't expect me to be brave enough to face her. She's way more fearless than me—probably crazier too!"
Everyone chuckled softly, but the tension in the car remained. They all knew the hunt was far from over.In the dead of night, Peterson crept through an abandoned building on the outskirts of the base. His steps were quiet, cautious. But suddenly—THUD!—something struck the side of his head. He stumbled, crashing against the wall, and collapsed to the floor.
His vision spun. A dull ringing echoed in his ears. And then—
Memories flooded in.
He saw himself dressed in ordinary clothes—not his military jacket, not combat boots—but faded jeans and a plain white t-shirt. His hands trembled as he caught his reflection in a cracked window pane.
"What... is this?" he murmured, breathing hard. He touched his face, then his chest. No insignia. No mark. Just a normal young man.
Another vision flashed—an alien planet bathed in bluish-green light, and the voice of an old man echoing in his mind:
"You must go to Earth. If this mission fails, you're our only hope..."
Peterson gritted his teeth. Slowly, he stood—still dazed, but now with a different look in his eyes. A sense of clarity—something lost, beginning to return.
"Who… am I really?" he whispered.