The red lights pulsed, painting the chamber in waves of alarm.
Steam hissed from vents in the ceiling as power rerouted through systems long dead.
The thing that emerged from the wall wasn't born — it was built.
It crawled forward on all fours, metal grafted into muscle, its skin a patchwork of pale flesh and carbon plating. Tubes ran from its spine into the ground, feeding it with something dark and pulsing. Its head twitched unnaturally, eyes glowing the same sterile blue as the pods.
The girl backed up until she hit the wall. "What—what is that?"
24 didn't answer. He had seen one before — years ago, in a facility like this. A failed subject.
It stood upright, its voice a mix of static and breath. "Su…bject… twenty-four."
24 froze. The creature tilted its head, the sound of bones cracking echoing through the chamber.
"Designation confirmed," it rasped. "We share… the same father."
Then it lunged.
The sound was a scream of metal and fury. 24 sidestepped, vanishing in a ripple of air. The creature struck the wall instead, shattering concrete.
He reappeared behind it, blades already drawn — one long, one half its length, both glinting under the red light. The shorter blade flashed first, slashing across the creature's back, severing two of its tubes. Black fluid splattered the floor.
It roared and spun, its arm elongating, tendons snapping into cables. 24 ducked low, slicing through one, and teleported again — a flicker of motion that left afterimages in the air.
The girl watched in disbelief. His movements weren't natural — they were too fast, too sharp, as if time itself faltered when he blinked.
But each jump left its mark. When 24 reappeared, his nose bled. His breathing grew heavier.
The creature lunged again. 24 blocked with the long blade, the impact reverberating through his bones. Sparks flew. He shifted his stance, twisted, and drove the short blade into the creature's side.
The thing didn't fall. It laughed. A dry, glitching sound.
"Why do you fight your own reflection?" it hissed.
Then it slammed him into the wall. The impact cracked stone and bone alike.
24 gasped, vision blurring. The world distorted, shadows bending. He blinked away at the last second, reappearing above the creature, midair, bringing both blades down in a cross-cut.
The hit landed clean. Metal split. The creature screamed — a sound like a dying machine.
It staggered back, one arm severed, its form flickering as if caught between realities.
24 landed hard, one knee buckling. His veins pulsed blue, light bleeding from under his skin.
The girl ran to his side. "You can't—don't jump again!"
He didn't hear her. His gaze was locked on the creature — on what it said.
"Same father."
He could feel it now — a voice behind his thoughts. Cold, commanding. Elias, return to control.
He gritted his teeth, shaking his head. "No."
The creature stepped forward again, pieces of it reattaching through some unnatural pulse of energy. "You cannot run from what you are," it croaked. "We are the sons of the Elite Government Intelligence. You and I — their ghosts."
"Then let me send you back to them," 24 growled.
He vanished — one last jump.
The air rippled violently. The chamber shook. When he reappeared, he was inside the creature's reach, blades crossed.
He whispered: "Return to the void."
The blades tore through its chest, releasing a wave of blue-white energy that lit the entire chamber. The creature convulsed, limbs locking, then fell silent.
When the light faded, 24 was on one knee, trembling, blood dripping from his nose and mouth. The girl knelt beside him, shaking.
"Hey—hey! Stay awake!"
He looked at her through half-closed eyes. "I'm fine."
She shook her head. "You're not fine!"
He forced a faint smirk. "You should see the other guy."
She turned to look — the creature's body was already dissolving, breaking down into mist that disappeared into the cracks of the floor.
"What's happening to it?" she whispered.
"Protocol," 24 said quietly. "EGI doesn't leave evidence behind."
The chamber lights dimmed. For a moment, everything went still again — no alarms, no movement, only the faint drip of condensation from above.
24 rose slowly, sheathing both blades. "We can't stay here."
The girl nodded, still shaken. "Where do we go now?"
He looked toward the tunnel at the far end of the room, where a faint draft of air stirred the dust.
"Down," he said. "There's always another layer."
And as they vanished into the dark, the last flicker of the dying system sparked on a nearby terminal — a single line of text glowing faintly:
PROJECT BLACK DIVISION: PHASE TWO — REACTIVATION INITIATED.