The holographic nightmare of a world devoured by VITA flickered and died as PIXEL's last external link severed, plunging the Rakshasa Labs control room into a heavier, more oppressive silence. The air, thick with the scent of dust and decay, now carried the stench of a billion ruined lives.
Anya sagged against a console, her face a mask of stark disbelief and dawning horror. "Net… Vsyemirnaya katastrofa…" (No… A global catastrophe…) she whispered, the Russian a raw sound of grief.
Mike stood rigid, the COG-7 enhancements churning the horrific data into a kaleidoscope of agonizing detail – projected casualty figures, resource collapse models, the geometric progression of Aberrant Strain contamination. The architect in him saw civilizations reduced to rubble; the nascent warrior forged by VITA felt a primal, helpless fury.
This island… Project Rakshasa… VITA… their escape… Krexx… it all seemed so small now, so utterly insignificant against the backdrop of a planet consuming itself. This Rakshasa Labs facility, this cursed island, wasn't an isolated experiment; it was just one malignant node in a global cancer orchestrated by Apex Ascendant Technologies, and the governments like the US and UK who had let these monsters off their leash. And the outcome? Seventy percent of humanity, gone or transformed. Countries like China crippled by nuclear meltdowns on top of VITA's rage. Russia, Singapore, Israel fighting desperate, fragmented holding actions.
The information overload, the sheer cosmic injustice, snapped something within him.
"Damn them!" Mike roared, his voice tearing through the silence, a sound of pure, unadulterated rage. He slammed his fist onto the nearest console, the metal groaning under the impact, pain lancing up his arm – a welcome, grounding sensation. "Damn Rakshasa Labs! Damn Apex! Damn Thorne and his insane ambitions! Damn every last bureaucrat who signed off on this!" He kicked out at a rusted panel, sending it clattering. "All that power, all that 'progress,' and for what? To turn the world into a goddamn slaughterhouse?!" He paced like a caged, VITA-enhanced animal, his movements jerky, PIXEL's usually calm HUD flickering with biohazard warnings reflecting his own physiological distress. He was just an architect who'd woken up in hell, only to find out hell had expanded to engulf the entire planet.
Anya watched him, her own grief momentarily overshadowed by a mixture of fear and empathy. Then, as suddenly as it erupted, Mike's fury seemed to drain away. He stopped, his chest heaving, his breathing ragged. His shoulders slumped, and he stared at his trembling hands. The internal storm wasn't gone, but it was… contained. The COG-7, perhaps, was already adapting, re-routing the emotional surge into cold, hard resolve.
"Mike?" Anya asked softly, her voice still shaky. "Vy v poryadke?" (Are you alright?)
He took a deep, shuddering breath, the raw edges of his anger sharpening into a dangerous focus. "No," he said, his voice unexpectedly calm, almost devoid of inflection. "No, I'm not alright. But being 'alright' isn't an option anymore, is it?" He met her gaze, and she saw a chilling clarity there, something colder and more determined than before. "PIXEL," he said, his voice level. "Summarize last confirmed Rakshasa Labs assessment of 'Subject Zero' within this Project Asura facility. And Anya… if this control room mentions a 'Sector 52'…"
«PIXEL: Designate 'Subject Zero' – Local Alpha-Tier Asura Prototype. Rakshasa Labs designation unknown prior to full network severance. Presumed high-threat biological agent. Limited data available in isolated local cache. No direct mentions of 'Sector 52' in current sub-level archives.» PIXEL's synthesized voice sounded, for the first time, almost… subdued. «My external network access is permanently severed. Switching to Offline Archive Mode. All previously downloaded Rakshasa Labs island schematics, VITA research summaries, indigenous fauna/flora analysis, and combat heuristic data remain accessible. I can still provide analysis on local threats and environment based on this stored data.»
Anya shook her head, a weary sigh escaping her. "Sector 52… I heard whispers among the higher-tier Rakshasa Labs researchers. It wasn't here, on this island. It was rumored to be a specialized containment and 'field-testing' designation used by Apex Ascendant for some of their most unstable bio-weapons before full deployment. The kind of 'tests' you see the fingerprints of when regional conflicts suddenly escalate with unexplainable casualties." Her eyes darkened. "Think of the inexplicable ferocity of some insurgent groups, the way conflicts like the Kargil War (May-July 1999) in Kashmir, or certain phases of the Israeli-Palestinian conflicts, would see spikes in brutality and civilian casualties that defied conventional tactics. Or the claims you used to hear, often dismissed as conspiracy, from captured militants after attacks like the ones in Mumbai (November 26-29, 2008 Taj Hotel siege) or even earlier incidents… saying their 'sponsors' from Western intelligence agencies gave them… 'enhancements' or 'new weapons'."
She ran a hand through her hair. "Rakshasa Labs, through Apex, weren't just developing VITA derivatives, Mike. They were beta-testing them. Using proxy wars, funding terrorist cells as deniable assets, destabilizing regions to observe their creations in real-world combat scenarios. The February 14, 2019 Pulwama attack, the whispers surrounding its aftermath… all data points in a pattern. I don't have specific details on 'Subject Zero' or what it might be, if it's related to those field tests. My work on Project Rakshasa was compartmentalized. I only saw the approved aspects. Dr. Thorne… that madman, Aris Thorne… he oversaw the more… unconventional applications of VITA for Rakshasa Labs. He'd have the full picture."
Suddenly, a proximity alert klaxon blared from a still-functional wall panel, a piercing, rhythmic shriek. PIXEL's voice cut through it: «WARNING! Multiple complex biological signatures detected approaching this control room. Designation: UNKNOWN HYBRID – exhibits combined VITA-markers of multiple mammalian species and baseline human. Aggression probability: 98.9%. Threat Level: EXTREME.»
Mike and Anya exchanged a look of horror. "So much for a quiet debrief," Mike muttered, his newly focused calm hardening into readiness.
Anya stared at a live-feed schematic that flickered onto a damaged monitor. "Hybrid… By the gods, what did Rakshasa Labs do here when I was… sleeping?" she breathed, aghast. "The sheer unethical acceleration of Project Asura… Thorne must have bypassed all protocols after the initial Subject Zero breach. Creating chimeras from animal and human stock… it's an abomination."
"No time for ethics committees, Doctor," Mike said, grabbing the sturdiest piece of metal rebar he could find. "If Thorne left that behind, we need to move."
He scanned the control room with PIXEL's aid. "The pit we fell through… no easy way back up, and who knows what's waiting for us. We have to go forward."
Anya pointed to a small, almost hidden maintenance hatch on the far side of the control room, previously obscured by a fallen cabinet. «PIXEL: Access Tunnel 7-Gamma. Leads to lower utility corridors. Structural integrity: questionable but passable.»
"This way," Anya urged. "It might lead to a different part of the Rakshasa Labs complex. We can't fight whatever that is in here."
As they scrambled towards it, Anya paused. "Krexx… he called his camp 'Heaven.' You said he sneered when he called you 'Architect'. Did he imply there were… other settlements? Other survivors who weren't part of his group?"
Mike frowned, recalling Krexx's parting words. "He… he might have. Something about not wanting another mouth to feed… Implying existing strains. If this island was a major Project Rakshasa hub, there could be other pockets."
«PIXEL: Analyzing local atmospheric particle drift and subtle seismic activity from stored data. Extrapolating… High probability of another distinct human biosignature concentration approximately 2.7 kilometers north-east of this facility's presumed surface coordinates. Indicative of a small, established encampment.»
Hope, a fragile, desperate spark, flickered in Mike's eyes. "Then that's where we head. If Krexx isn't the only game in town…"
[SCENE SHIFT: HEAVEN – KREXX'S CAMP – SAME TIME]
The air in "Heaven" hung thick and heavy, not just with woodsmoke, but with the almost palpable weight of Krexx's dominion. He stood in the central clearing, stripped to the waist, muscles coiling and uncoiling with an unnatural, predatory grace as he moved through a brutal, solitary training regimen. He wielded a newly crafted spear – its haft thick as a man's arm, tipped with a razor-sharp shard of scavenged aircraft fuselage – as if it were an extension of his own will. With each impossibly fast strike and recovery, a faint, almost subliminal shimmer, like heat haze but darker, seemed to emanate from him, subtly distorting the air around his powerful frame. The other survivors gave him a wide berth, their movements hushed, their conversations muted. It wasn't just fear of his physical prowess; there was an oppressive, almost tangible aura that clung to him, a chilling authority that seemed to drain the very energy from the immediate vicinity. The air around Krexx felt colder, the light dimmer, as if a shadow was perpetually cast by his presence alone.
Rex, Krexx's hulking second, approached with a deference that bordered on subservience, the usual bullishness leached from his posture. "Boss," Rex grunted, his voice carefully neutral. "That new guy, Mike. Finn just did a perimeter sweep. Can't find him. Gone. Looks like he skedaddled. Or something got him."
Anna, sitting nearby meticulously sharpening a piece of wood into a lethal point, felt the shift in the camp's oppressive atmosphere intensify as Rex spoke. She kept her head down, but her hands stilled. A pang of something – guilt? Disappointment? Worry? – tightened her chest. He was useless, a voice echoed in her memory, Krexx's dismissive sneer, but he saved me from the Fang-cat. Now he was out there, alone.
Krexx paused his spear work, the weapon held perfectly still, its point aimed at nothing, yet radiating deadly intent. He turned slowly, the dark aura around him seeming to coalesce, making the air crackle with unspoken menace. His eyes, cold and flat as glacier ice, narrowed. He didn't seem particularly surprised, or even angry. Just… calculating, as if processing new variables in a complex, brutal equation. "Is that so?" He ran a thumb along the razor edge of his spear, the gesture almost caress. The faint, dark shimmer around him pulsed slightly. "Shame. Thought he might at least have been good for digging latrines. You," he looked at Rex, his gaze heavy, pinning the larger man in place, "double the watch. If he ain't dead, he might get stupid ideas about coming back. Or lead something worse here." Krexx didn't need to shout; his quiet words carried the weight of absolute command. He didn't explicitly display any flashy "power" now, beyond his intimidating physique and combat skill, but his control over weapons, his environment, and most importantly, over people, was so profound, so unnatural, it was a force in itself. Anna had once asked Elara what Krexx's 'gift' was; Elara had just looked away, a shadow in her own eyes, and murmured, "Some gifts are curses for everyone else."
Suddenly, Jax, sullen and powerful, burst into the central clearing, his usual resentment momentarily overridden by a rare burst of manic excitement. "Krexx! Elara and Scylla… they figured it out! The shiny rocks, the crystals we found in that cave system west of here…" He held up a pulsing, faintly glowing blue crystal, its light seeming to push back fractionally against Krexx's oppressive aura. "They… they react to Elara's… 'gift'! They amplify it! She just managed to purify a whole skin of swamp water without collapsing! And Scylla thinks… she thinks they might be a power source for some of the old Rakshasa Labs tech!"
Krexx's eyes, which had been distant and unreadable, snapped into sharp, predatory focus. The dark aura around him seemed to intensify, then draw inward, becoming a concentrated point of focused will. A slow, dangerous smile spread across his scarred face, making the already depressed atmosphere in the camp even more charged. "Well, well," he purred, the word a low rumble of anticipation that sent shivers down the spines of those nearby. "Looks like Heaven just got a little closer to divine."