Their heads throbbed with blinding pain. Eyes rolled dazed as if their very minds were being torn open.
Then came the flashes.
Xavier Mendes — A former civil engineer from Detroit. His memories came crashing back in violent waves.
He remembered patching underground water lines, hauling pipes through the ruins of a dying city, trying to keep hope alive for those still clinging to survival. He remembered faces—tired, hungry, desperate—looking to him for solutions.
When the Vexari descended, he was out scavenging for materials to make the tunnels livable. He had fought—fought hard—but it was in vain.
Darkness consumed him. One moment, he had stood ready before a Vexari soldier, heart pounding, and the next, silence had swallowed the world. His resistance ended in capture.
Jalen Rocha — Portuguese, raised leaping rooftops, dodging gang violence. His world had been concrete, danger, and freedom in motion.
He had taught himself parkour to survive the streets, and when the invasion came, he used it to deliver supplies, darting through ruins others could not reach. He remembered the children he had guided through broken alleys, his voice steady as fear clawed at their faces.
Then—the shimmer. The Vexari came, and he was taken while leading the last group of children to safety.
At the ranch, he would become its heartbeat—reckless, impulsive, but always pushing forward, always finding the way even when none seemed possible.
Elira Dominic — Colombian-born American, botanist.
Her flashback arrived in fragments. She was in Kerrville, Texas, tending the last surviving greenhouse. The air smelled of jasmine. Bees buzzed lazily between blossoms. Light filtered through cracked glass overhead, fractured but beautiful.
She remembered her daughter's laughter. The sound of ships overhead. Then the sky turned red.
She had been taken in the middle of a harvest, hands full of life, even as darkness claimed her.
Theo Ackerman — Musician from Berlin, Germany.
He remembered the underground tunnels alive with rebellion. The thrum of bass echoes against damp walls. The flicker of strobe lights. Bodies moving as one, rhythm their only defiance.
His flashback was a song—unfinished, lingering in his skull. He remembered performing when the air suddenly froze, when the lights went out, and silence devoured the music.
Captured mid-beat, his song unfinished.
Nyah Samba — Medic from the Congo Basin.
Her flashback was tender. She was working in a floating clinic, patching wounds with what little supplies remained. A child's smile lingered in her mind. The hiss of sterilizers. Lullabies sung in Lingala.
She was treating a burn victim when the Vexari attacked. One moment, she was saving a life, the next, she vanished from the world she knew.
Sera Nordan — Scandinavian, trained in tracking and plant medicine by her grandmother.
She remembered crouching low in the wilderness, hands brushing over herbs as her grandmother's voice echoed in memory. She had tried to sabotage a Vexari transport vessel, moving with the precision of a hunter.
She had been caught. Taken before her plan could succeed.
At the ranch, she would draw from the old knowledge—using every plant, every sign, to keep her comrades alive.
Alexei Volkov — Russian, former Marine turned military analyst.
His memories returned in fire.
Stationed in Alaska, he had seen the Vexari ship open fire. Destruction rained. Friends and comrades fell in mangled heaps. He remembered leading the last coordinated defense, shouting orders, pulling his men into positions that crumbled moments later.
Overwhelmed, crushed, he too had been taken.
Kira Djokovic — Nurse from El Paso.
Her memories returned with blood.
She had been tending wounded civilians, blending modern medicine with traditional remedies, trying to ease the suffering around her. She remembered the screams, the fire, the desperate prayers.
Then the Vexari attacked, and she was captured.
It was as though some drug had suppressed these memories, locking them away until the right moment, until the ranch itself forced them back.
When the pain settled, they opened their eyes wide. The truth dawned on them with crushing weight.
This wasn't a military test site.
This was Earth—shaped, scarred, and cultivated into something else.
Something alien.
Something built for amusement.
The words on the wall echoed in their minds:
We are runners. We are prey.
The food turned bitter in their mouths.
Jalen's voice cracked with rage. "Oh… Jesus, f**k! We've been captured—for some kind of twisted alien enjoyment."
Just as panic threatened to break loose, footsteps echoed through the halls.
The group spun toward the sound, snatching up anything they could use as a weapon—metal scraps, chairs, anything heavy enough to swing.
The steps drew closer.
Then two figures appeared in the hallway.
Amara and Kaito.
Faces pale, eyes wide, their presence pulled the group back from the brink of violence.
"We almost killed you," one of them muttered in disbelief.
Amara's expression was grim. "So you remembered too?" She nodded. "Good. At least I don't have to be the bearer of bad news."
The tension snapped the moment Amara spoke.
"We need to get out of here!" several voices cried at once, panic rising like wildfire.
"There is no way out," Amara answered firmly, her voice steady in the silence.
Kaito stood beside her, his face pale but jaw set. "There is no escape."
Kira pushed forward, seizing Kaito's combat jacket. The buttons hung loose, revealing the vest beneath. Her grip was tight, her sharp eyes boring into his. "What do you mean, no escape? Are you saying there's no way out? That we're trapped?"
The room still reeked faintly of opened canned food, but hunger was the last thing on anyone's mind. Kira's knuckles whitened as she demanded answers.
Amara drew in a slow, controlled breath. Her words came calmly but unflinching.
"The walls are too high. Made of alien material, the same as these pods and some of these walls. They surround us, stretching for eight… maybe ten miles in every direction. And when you get close—" she paused, her eyes flicking to Kaito "—they move. They glow. They feel alive."
Kaito's lips pressed into a tight line as he nodded. "We ran the perimeter for hours. No cracks. No openings. No gates. Nothing. This is a cage. And we're inside it."
The words dropped like stones into their chests.
Elira's voice trembled. "So we're trapped?"
"Not just trapped," Kaito replied darkly. "I think we're being watched. Observed. Tested, maybe. Whatever brought us here—it's watching."
Jalen let out a humorless laugh, dragging a hand through his messy curls. "Great. So we're rats in a maze. Fantastic."
Xavier stepped closer, his tone low and grim. "No. A maze has an exit. A cage doesn't."
The silence that followed was suffocating. Each runner wrestled with the weight of his words, their fleeting hope smothered.
Hours passed. The sun dipped toward the horizon, staining the sky in bruised colors. Hunger gnawed at their stomachs again, a cruel reminder of their reality.
Even Amara and Kaito, who had resisted earlier, gave in. They tore open cans, eating with the same desperation as the others. Swallowing quickly, hardly chewing, they devoured what was left.
"This tastes too good," Kaito muttered between bites. "What even is it made of?"
No one had an answer.
When they were done, Amara wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "If we can't escape, then we need to find something—anything—that explains this place."
The others agreed reluctantly. They spread out again, searching the building and its surroundings. Every corner. Every passage.
But there was nothing.
No hidden doors. No secret passages. Nothing but silence.
Jalen spat on the ground, his frustration boiling over. "Not a damn thing. It's like the place is taunting us."
Kira's voice cracked, desperate. "What happened to the people before us? The writings show they were here. Were they killed? Will the same thing happen to us?"
No one could answer her. Not even Xavier.
Nyah shook her head, her tone somber. Those outside "walls aren't just unclimbable. They're unnatural. Alive, maybe. The aliens don't want us to escape."
The words sank into the silence.
By the time the sun set fully, the outside was wrapped in darkness. No artificial lights illuminated the exterior of the base. Only the moon's cold glow guided their return.
One by one, the group filed back into the building. Their footsteps echoed down the same hallway, past the carvings and blood-written words that had unsettled them earlier.
We are runners. We are prey. Stay alive for the next hunt.
Amara lingered, her eyes drawn to a corner of the wall. Names of previous runners were etched there, faint and fading.
Her chest tightened. Her breath caught.
"These…" Her voice broke. "These are my comrades. My people. They were here."
Her hands trembled as she traced the faded letters, blurred by age.
She fell to her knees, grief overwhelming her. Tears streamed down her face as her lips moved in whispered Hindi prayers.
"I thought you were lost in the desert," she murmured. "But you were here… and you died here."
The others fell silent, their gazes heavy with respect. Even Kaito bowed his head, though the thought of his sister caused him some discomfort.
Elira fought to block out thoughts of her daughter. She had kept her composure since her flashback, but the thought of loss could shatter her completely. She said nothing, burying her emotions deep to survive.
None of them knew yet that the world outside was already gone. If they had, those who still clung to family would have felt the same crushing despair as Amara.
That evening, they decided.
"We barricade," Alexei said firmly. His voice carried the weight of command. "Doors, windows, anything that leads outside. We don't know when they're coming, but the messages are clear—they will come."
Xavier nodded. "Tables. Chairs. Even the crate. Stack everything against the entrances."
Jalen smirked faintly, though it looked forced. "A good old-fashioned lockdown. It won't stop whatever dropped us out of the sky, but maybe it'll buy us some time."
Together, they moved with purpose. Heavy objects screeched across the floors as they dragged them into place. Tables leaned against the steel doors. Broken chairs were wedged into window frames. Every entrance, every gap, was covered.
Their efforts echoed through the halls, a rhythm of defiance against the silence.
Above them, Korr'Vex sat in his chamber, aboard a ship high in the sky. Directly above the ranch, unseen unless one looked carefully—or caught a glimpse by mistake. He watched. Always watching.
By the time they finished, sweat slicked their brows, and their bodies ached. Yet a strange sense of unity lingered. For the first time since awakening, they felt less like strangers and more like comrades.
They drank from the cafeteria sinks. They sat in silence. Some leaned against walls. Others curled up on bunks in their suits. The eerie preservation of the building became almost familiar.
Still, the writings on the walls gnawed at them. The warnings of hunts that never end echoed in their minds.
"We don't even know when it will begin," Elira whispered to no one in particular.
Nyah's reply was soft, heavy with dread. "That's worse. Waiting is its own kind of death."
That evening, the group sat together, voices low and strained. They formed a rotation for guard duty. Those who weren't watching curled into bunks, some sleeping uneasily in their suits, others staring wide-eyed at the ceiling.
Jalen, ever restless, broke the silence once, trying to lift the mood. "Hey, at least we've got food. Could be worse—we could be working on empty stomachs."
Kira smirked faintly, shaking her head. "Yeah. Poisoned food. Real comfort."
"Then I'll die full. Better than hungry," Jalen shot back, earning a few tired chuckles.
But as night deepened, the walls seemed to press closer, shadows stretching longer.
Sometime past midnight, the watchers—Alexei, Xavier, and Kaito—noticed it first.
Xavier narrowed his eyes at the window. "Do you see that?"
Outside, a haze drifted across the grounds. Thick. Unnatural. It was not dust. Not fog.
Smoke.
It slithered like a living thing, curling and coiling across the wasteland, spreading fast toward the building.
Alexei's soldier's instincts flared instantly. His voice was a barked command, sharp enough to jolt the others awake. "On your feet! Everyone up, now!"
The runners bolted upright as Xavier and Kaito shook the sleepers. Panic surged through the dimly lit room.
"What is it?!" Sera demanded, gripping a broken chair leg like a weapon.
"The smoke—look!" Kaito pointed, his voice tight.
The darkness outside was gone, swallowed by a rolling tide of thick purple vapor pressing against the walls.
"It's… It's coming inside," Elira whispered in horror as tendrils of smoke slithered through cracks in the barricades. They curled under doors, seeped through shattered vents, and bled from shifting seams in the alien roof.
Nyah clamped her sleeve over her mouth, eyes wide. "How? The walls are sealed!"
But sealed or not, the smoke crept in like a predator, filling every gap, every breath of space.
The air turned heavy. Acrid. Chemical. It stung their lungs, burned their throats.
Jalen staggered, coughing violently. "Hold your breath! Don't—don't breathe it in!"
But it was too late.
One by one, their knees buckled.
Theo collapsed first, his rhythm cut short. Then Elira, then Sera.
Amara tried to shout, her voice muffled by the thick haze. Kaito reached for her, his hand trembling, before his body dropped limp beside hers.
Alexei fought longest, his frame shuddering with resistance, but even he crumpled at last, defeated.
The smoke thickened, swallowing the light, pressing shadows into nothingness.
The last thing they all saw was the glow of the walls fading to black.
And then—silence.
Darkness claimed them all.