Elias was rushing through the Lambda halls.
His breaths came fast and shallow, panic rising like bile in his throat. He gnced over his shoulder.
It was still following him.
The thing’s footsteps were like thunder on the steel floor—metallic limbs smming into the corridor as it gained ground. Elias stumbled, almost tripping, but caught himself with one hand against the wall.
"Shit, shit, shit..."
He had made a mistake. He knew it. He should've been more careful. More deliberate. But curiosity had clouded his judgment again. He just had to see what was behind that security gate.
The pounding behind him grew louder. It was so close now he could almost feel it breathing down his neck—except it didn’t breathe.
The hallway ahead curved hard to the right.
He darted around the corner, nearly smming into the wall. A second ter, a deafening cng echoed behind him. The creature had misjudged the turn and smashed against the wall.
Good. That meant it had lost momentum.
His eyes locked forward, heart hammering. A heavy door loomed ahead—just a few meters away. The access panel beside it glowed green, waiting for his hand.
Elias smmed his palm against the panel.
The door shuddered. Screeched. Stopped.
Only a sliver had opened—just enough to squeeze a hand through. He pushed, gritting his teeth, but it was stuck. Jammed.
He could hear the creature behind him. Metal pounded on metal. Closer. Closer.
"That’s it for me," Elias whispered. He closed his eyes.
One st breath.
He waited for the sound of tearing flesh, the crack of bones—
And...
"Huh?" he muttered.
He opened one eye. Then both.
"WHAT THE FUCK!?"
The creature was frozen. Not dead. Just... still. Its body was grotesque—a nightmare made real.
The creature stood like a twisted mockery of life—tall and hunched. Its body was a grotesque blend of decayed flesh and corroded metal, veined with pulsating structure gel. A bulbous, armored head sprouted clusters of pale, barnacle-like eyes, while its mouth yawned wide in a permanent scream, filled with rows of needle-like teeth.
Its limbs were long and skeletal, ending in cwed hands and split, talon-like feet. Bck tendrils slithered from its back, some twitching like they had minds of their own. Exposed ribs wrapped around a hollow chest, and armor pting clung to its frame like a parasite.
But it was held there—immobile.
Elias’s gaze tracked down the creature’s neck.
A thick tendril, slick and bck, was coiled tightly around it.
Swallowing hard, Elias slowly turned to follow the tendril.
And screamed.
He smmed his back into the blocked door, eyes wide with terror.
Standing there was another creature.
Tall.
Humanoid—but wrong.
No face. Just a smooth, obsidian mask with twin bck lenses where eyes should be. From its back slithered more tendrils, swaying slowly like they were tasting the air. Its pting gleamed with a faint blue sheen.
It walked toward him.
It shoved the twisted mutant aside like it weighed nothing. The abomination crumpled to the floor like a broken doll.
Elias raised his arms, trembling.
"I’m so fucked. I’m so fucked," he muttered.
The creature stopped just before him.
Then it spoke.
"Elias?"
The voice was familiar. So achingly familiar it froze Elias in pce.
"What the fuck, man," it said, dry and amused. "I almost feel bad for you."
"Simon?" Elias blinked.
The creature—Simon—tilted his head.
"You should be dead," Elias stammered. "I saw you fall. You should be—"
Simon cut him off with a shrug. "To die? Yeah, anyone else would’ve died. Twenty meters down an elevator shaft. Belly-first. But not me. I build many reinforcement yers into that old chassis."
He reached forward and grabbed Elias by the colr like he weighed nothing, lifting him effortlessly off the ground.
Before, Simon had only been slightly taller than him—a few centimeters at most. Now, standing this close, Elias realized just how much had changed. Simon loomed. He was at least two meters tall now, a towering figure, all coiled strength and cold precision.
Controlled. Measured. Terrifying.
Elias dangled for a moment, feet inches from the floor. He could feel the raw power in Simon's grip, not even exerting effort. The bck lenses in Simon's mask stared into him, unreadable.
He let go of him.
Then, casually—almost mockingly—Simon patted his shoulder.
"Now," Simon said, the glow behind his lenses intensifying. "Talk. Why the hell did you push me?"
The tone wasn’t angry. It was steady. Measured. But it carried weight—a weight only someone built from anxiety, betrayal, and a lifetime of second-guessing could deliver.
Simon’s fear had become precision. His dread had become order.
Elias swallowed. Adapt, survive, save face.
"I panicked, alright? I thought you were WAU," he said quickly. "I didn’t want to push you, Simon. But after everything I saw—how you controlled Jessica, how easily you killed her, the modifications in your suit, and the fact that you told me you were a neurograph... I thought somehow WAU had crawled out of Site Alpha."
"You thought wrong," Simon said quietly.
Elias didn’t respond.
Simon's hand remained on Elias's shoulder.
"Look, I was pnning to talk to you anyway. And now that you told me why you pushed me, I’ll tell you something too. Something about you... that even you don’t know."
Simon paused, then said it ftly:
"You’re a construct. Just like me. A cortex chip shoved into a dead body, stitched together by structure gel."
Elias froze.
"That... that can’t be. I’m alive. I’m not—"
"Like me," Simon said.
He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to.
"Look, I’m not trying to be a jerk. Call this a sp of reality. You could’ve killed Jerry, for fuck’s sake. And if he had died, believe me, I wouldn’t be so calm right now."
A nanoceramic bde emerged from Simon’s forearm—silent, sharp, deadly.
Then it slid back in.
"If you don’t believe me, try removing your helmet. See for yourself."
Simon stepped back, hand falling from Elias's shoulder. He waved his wrist to disengage Elias’s helmet lock.
Elias’s hands moved to the helmet. He heard the soft click, felt the seal break.
He lifted it off.
And stopped breathing.
Elias pced the helmet down slowly, hands shaking. Then he reached to his head.
There was no head.
Just two cameras. A cortex chip.
"No... No. NO! I’m human! I’m not a fucking monster!" Elias screamed.
Simon watched, arms crossed.
He almost felt bad for him. Almost.
Simon sighed and pced his hand gently on Elias's shoulder again.
If he let him spiral further, he could fry the chip.
"Calm down, Elias."
"How can I calm down!? I’m not human! I’m just a brain scan!" Elias sobbed.
"Fucking Carthage Industries..." he muttered. "Fucking spy work... I should’ve stayed at the other sites."
Simon flinched.
"Other sites?" Simon asked.
His attention snapped to Elias like a predator catching movement. The air went still. Though his voice was calm, Simon's thoughts were already spiraling—racing back to the headless corpse he’d discovered at Upsilon. No ID on the suit. No DNA registered in the medical database. Just another silent mystery, unexpined.
Until now.
Elias’s hands flew to where his mouth would have been, a reflexive gesture of regret. But the words were already spoken.
"There are other sites," Simon said. Not a question. A conclusion.
He stepped forward, each footfall echoing in the corridor.
"Where are they? Are they still active?"
Elias hesitated. His entire frame seemed to shrink under Simon's presence. The panic radiating from him was almost visible.
Time stretched.
Simon’s mind calcuted options. He couldn’t push too hard—not with the chip in Elias's head already nearing a stress threshold. One wrong move and he’d lose him.
So instead, he let fear do the work.
The tendrils on his back began to twitch, slow and deliberate, like cobras preparing to strike.
"Elias... don’t make me dig into your mind to find the truth myself."
It wasn’t a threat. It was a guarantee.
Elias trembled. His back pressed into the half-open emergency door as he raised his hands in surrender.
"There are four sites," he said, voice cracking. "Two to the north. Two to the south. I don’t know what’s happening at them now, but they were still functional after the impact. I sent them weekly reports... until I lost the satellite phone I used to contact them."
Simon stared.
The silence wrapped around them like a bnket.
"Functional sites," he murmured, almost reverently.
Something flickered inside him—not hope exactly, but something just as powerful. Purpose. Direction. The chance that maybe—just maybe—humans were still clinging to life, hidden deep in the earth, in the ocean’s trench-scattered ruins. Sites like PATHOS-II. Forgotten, but alive.
But Elias wouldn’t st long in his current state.
Simon focused. He noticed the overheating chip. Its signal distorted, its temperature spiking. Too much longer and it would fry.
He acted without hesitation.
Simon sent a silent command to the structure gel threaded through Elias’s body, instructing it to slow energy flow and reduce heat.
It obeyed instantly.
Elias staggered. His body folded in on itself.
Simon caught him before he hit the floor.
For a brief moment, there was gentleness in his movements.
He lifted Elias and slung him over his shoulder. One of his tendrils wrapped around Elias's helmet on the floor and brought it to his hand.
The hallway was quiet, except for the soft hum of the vents.
Simon didn’t say another word.
He turned.
And walked.
Back toward Upsilon.
Time to pn.
Somewhere out there, other people were still alive.
And Simon was going to find them.
Simon had already sent the command.
The drones were en route, tasked with fixing the damaged communication rey. He had originally set the project to standby, intending first to reconnect the other PATHOS-II sites. That was the pn. Until Elias spoke. Until his accidental confession changed everything.
Now, Simon had a direction. A purpose.
And the reys? They'd be operational in a few hours, automated systems humming back to life after years of silence.
He made his way through the winding corridors to the shuttle station. The ptform lights flickered to life as he approached. The shuttle was already waiting, its automated systems tracking his approach.
Simon stepped inside. The doors hissed shut behind him.
He sat down on the side bench, positioning Elias gently beside him, his systems running cool but stable.
The ride was smooth. The tunnel had been cleaned and restored since Simon st used it. For a fleeting moment, it reminded him of the subway rides he used to take. Back when he was human.
The shuttle slowed to a stop at the transport hub.
Outside, the CRU-09 unit was busy stacking crates—supplies transported from Lambda, silently organizing with mechanical precision.
Simon walked through the familiar corridors, past flickering lights and humming vents, until he reached Amy's room.
He gently set Elias down by the wall and knelt beside Amy's bed.
She was still there.
Still unconscious.
He looked at her face. Peaceful and fragile.
He reached out, fingers brushing her arm. A quiet hope stirred within him.
If those sites Elias mentioned held rger medical archives, more advanced databases—then maybe, just maybe, he could heal her.
Something buried in one of those northern or southern sanctuaries of survival.
His original pn had been to explore what remained of major cities. Madrid. Oslo. New York.
But this?
This was concrete.
Real.
He lingered a moment longer, then stood.
Silence held the room like a breath.
Then he turned, picked up Elias, and made his way into the workshop.
The lights flickered on.
To the right, a workbench waited—meticulously organized, every tool in pce.
Simon id Elias carefully on the table.
He pce Elias's helmet aside.
Three more tendrils extended, grabbing the necessary tools from the rack with eerie synchronicity. The soft clicks of metal filled the air.
Simon leaned in over Elias. His lenses glowed faintly.
He focused on the cortex chip embedded deep in Elias's spine.
The chip had overheated from stress—fragile now, but not beyond saving. He could reinforce the heat shielding. Slow down the feedback loops. Install a cooling interface.
As he worked, his thoughts swirled.
He had so many questions.
Too many.
And he wasn’t going to let Elias burn out before answering them.
Each movement was precise, surgical.
Simon worked in silence.
Because if there was any chance Elias could help him reach those sites...
Then Simon would make sure he lived long enough to get there.
Elias opened his eyes slowly.
He blinked against the strange, soft light and realized he was sitting upright in a leather chair. The room around him was quiet. The air still. He sat in what looked like an office—cssic, even elegant in an old-world way. A wooden desk sat before him, rge and polished, with a high-backed chair turned away, facing the other direction.
The pce looked like it had been pulled from the early 21st century—books lined the walls, their spines cracked and worn, and brass accents trimmed the dark furniture. It smelled faintly of paper and wood oil.
Elias shot to his feet, disoriented. He turned and walked quickly to the massive windows that stretched from ceiling to floor.
And froze.
Outside... there was nothing.
Just an endless expanse of blue sky and soft, drifting white clouds.
Not an ocean.
Not a building.
Not a single horizon line.
Just texture. Pattern. Illusion.
"What is happening?" Elias whispered, his voice trembling.
He looked down at his hands. Flesh and bone. Normal. He turned them, flexed his fingers. They looked real. They felt real.
"You’re in a simution," a familiar voice echoed from behind him.
Elias turned.
The chair behind the desk had swiveled around.
And sitting there was a man.
He was white, clean-cut, with the kind of face that was easy to trust—warm, open, quietly observant. His features were youthful, but grounded, shaped by familiarity and the small weight of everyday routines. Short, slightly tousled brown hair framed his head, swept carelessly to one side. His fair skin carried the soft glow of artificial lighting, not sunlight.
His eyes were calm. Thoughtful. They rested beneath gently arched brows and held a softness that almost didn’t belong in this world anymore. A slight, rexed smile touched his lips—not forced, just... human.
He wore a dark hoodie. Comfortable. Lived-in. The kind of thing you wore when you didn't need to impress anyone anymore.
A sharp contrast to the humanoid creature he had become in reality.
"Simon?" Elias asked, puzzled.
Simon nodded.
He gestured calmly to the chair across the desk.
Elias hesitated.
The windows behind him framed that terrifying, never-ending sky. It felt too rge. Too fake. Like he might fall into it if he stared too long.
He sat down.
"You said this is a simution. Where are we?"
"Inside the ARK," Simon replied. "Or... better said, an ARK. A copy that I made myself. "
Elias’s eyes widened.
Simon watched him. 'For a spy, he’s very expressive. Maybe finding out he isn’t human shook him more than he realized,' he thought.
A map appeared on the surface of the desk, glowing faintly with blue gridlines. The western edge of Europe came into view, bordered by the vastness of the Atntic. The digital projection zoomed in, focusing on the Mid-Atntic Ridge, just off the Azores archipego.
Simon leaned forward.
"You know why you're here," he said. His voice was soft, but unyielding. "Show me where the sites are."
Elias didn’t move.
Silence fell between them like a curtain.
Simon sighed and leaned back.
He hated this. Hated having to act like an interrogator. It wasn’t who he was. Not before. Not even now. But information had a price, and time was a luxury they could no longer afford.
Still, looking at Elias across the desk—a man trying to hold onto dignity after realizing he was a ghost in a machine—Simon felt something twist in his chest.
Regret. Pity. The ghosts of empathy.
"I don’t want to force you," Simon said. "But I need to know. Amy’s life depends on it."
Elias's eyes were fixed on the map. His throat bobbed in a swallow.
Simon waited.
And the clouds outside drifted by like dreams long forgotten.
Lord_Turtle_the_first
