My data displayflickers. Glitches. A stream of corrupted characters floods the screen like infected code trying to worm its way into my neural pathways.
Myra. Jast. Stepan and Kirt. Infected. Writhing in pain. Screaming—beggin’ me to kill them!
Epsilon steps out of the shadows,smiling. Burned and melted, skin sloughing off like wax, eyes gleaming red. “You’re not special,” he rasps. “You’re a container. Let’s see what happens when we fill you withme.”
A beep. A flash on the data display. The corrupted stream halts. One word pops up in clean, glowing cyan-blue:
PHASETETHER: ONLINE.
Let’s fuckin’ go.
Most people, when presented with a problem set such as this one, would panic. It’s normal. Natural. But I’m not even people at this point. I don’t really believe in panic. Not since I had to shoot my team in the head to save their souls.
So… yeah. I blow out a breath—lookin’ Epsilon straight into those demon-red eyes—and smile. Then I raise the fully-updated Versi and blow him into another dimension.
PhaseTether: Because dead is too easy.WARNING! Highly unstable! Side effects may include spontaneous howling, spatial screaming, and cosmic regret!”
The warped air smooths over, like the Corrupted God was never here.
I glance down at my wound, fingers pressing into my skin—which is lighting up green and orange in the surrounding area. It’s not a deep wound. Barely bleeding. And that wriggling I felt a few seconds ago is subsiding now. The pain fading. It’s a psyop—that’s what this is. A war-stunt. Make the soldier question his own body long enough to break the mission.
My inner voice scoffs.You’re insane. You’re Luther-level crazy if you think this injection was meant to scare, not scar.
Maybe. But there’s nothin’ I can do about it now.
Nothin’ I can do about ithere.
I took care of business, it’s time to leave.
Sucking in a breath, I grit my teeth and head for the lab.
It takes several minutes for me to find the right door, but when I do, it’s open. Like Luther and Epsilon left it this way on purpose. Imaginin’ this moment—me, walkin’ in, gettin’ my first look at Clara since all this shit went down.
It’s… almost poetic. Tragically romantic, maybe.
Because from where I stand in the doorway, she looks dead.
My data display goes haywire—panic triggers firing across my field of vision. Cortisol spike. Adrenaline dump. EMOTIONAL OVERRIDE: STABILIZE.
My heart rate jumps, tries to sprint?—
REGULATING...
It slows down against my will. My breathing evens out. I hate it.
The Versi system thinks I’m gonna lose control.
It’s probably right.
But I don’t move. Not yet. Just stare. Focused concentration as I take it all in.
Blood’s seepin’ out of her eyes and drippin’ down her cheeks like yesterday’s makeup. It’s comin’ out her nose, her ears, her mouth. Like something exploded inside her.
Maybe somethin’ did, Tyse?
Maybe it was you.
HEALTH SCAN: SCANNING…
