...
[06: 06: 25: 16]
Dorian stood tense in the dim control hub, arms crossed tightly over his chest as emergency lights pulsed amber and red around him. The camera feeds flickered across multiple monitors, each displaying chaotic glimpses of the lower levels of the facility. His eyes were locked on the main screen—Floor B4—watching the storm unfold in real time.
Cassian is in.
Dorian released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. The moment the boy vanished into the sinkhole, something in his chest unclenched. Relief washed over him like a cold tide.
The kid had done it. He’d broken through.
Dorian allowed himself a crooked smirk as he watched the grainy footage. Cassian was wading through literal hordes—hundreds, maybe thousands of Kalrachs—and he was still moving. Still standing.
"I was worried for nothing," Dorian muttered under his breath. “If anyone can survive this hell, it’s that little bastard…”
His smirk faltered. But surviving wasn’t the only concern. He recognized the look in Cassian’s eyes—that hollow, distant stare. He’d seen it too many times during his SpecOps years. Soldiers who’d lost their brothers-in-arms. Who buried grief beneath layers of duty and steel.
Cassian was running—not from the Kalrachs, but from something deeper.
Dorian exhaled slowly and rubbed a hand down his face.
“He needs to talk to someone before that pressure cooker of grief explodes,” he muttered. “I’ll make sure he does. Me… or the kids.”
A sudden flicker on the screen snapped him out of his thoughts.
"Hmm? Is that—?"
The camera convulsed violently. A crimson explosion surged through the shaft, the detonation echoing even within the reinforced control room. Cassian’s Behemoth had gone out with a bang—a thunderous, floor-clearing blast.
Dorian let out a low whistle. “Well... he just cleared half the floor in one move. Not bad, kid.”
The monitors flickered again. The swarm had thinned. Cassian had carved a path. Every Kalrach in the Nest would be drawn to him now.
Perfect.
“It seems the Chosen One has done his part, Captain,” came a voice from behind him.
Dr. Elira Kaine adjusted the strap of the shoulder-mounted device she wore, armored up and ready. Her expression remained unreadable, cold as always.
Dorian studied her for a moment. Once, she’d been a friend. Maybe more. Now… he wasn’t sure what she was anymore.
His hand clenched unconsciously.
Not the time. Focus.
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“If you’re done staring,” Elira said, arching a brow, “perhaps we should move. Cassian has bought us time and opportunity. I’d hate to see it wasted.”
“Tch.” Dorian gave a dry grunt. “Fair. Let’s get on with it.”
He glanced toward the two kids prepping in the corner.
Lian was hunched over a battered datapad, fingers flying as he synced it to the old security terminals. Beside him, Mara chewed her lower lip, eyes flicking to the monitors.
“Are the young soldiers ready?” Dorian asked.
Lian looked up. “Yes, sir.”
Mara gave a silent nod.
Dorian nodded in return and turned back to the console for one last glance. Then he stepped away and grabbed his weapon, locking it to his vest with a familiar, practiced click. He faced the group.
“Alright. The clock’s ticking.”
They all looked at him.
“Cassian just entered the final zone. Every Kalrach left is going to zero in on him like flies on blood. That gives us our window.”
He met Elira’s eyes. “We move to the Core Wing. You said there’s a sealed vault. You’ll access the failsafe and prime the meteor’s original core. Once it’s live, we trigger the detonation—then double back through the maintenance tunnels.”
She gave a sharp nod, adjusting her pack. “I remember the route. I built it.”
He resisted the urge to comment on that. Now wasn’t the time.
He crouched in front of the kids, lowering himself to eye level.
“Lian. Mara. After that, you’re with me. We’ll clear the emergency tunnels, get the auxiliary lift running, and make sure Cassian has a way out once this is over.”
Lian swallowed hard but nodded. Mara just stared—face pale but unwavering.
Dorian clapped a hand on each of their shoulders—firm, reassuring.
“You’ve both survived worse. This?” He forced a small smile. “This is just the final stretch.”
“Let’s move.”
…
[06: 06: 15: 26]
The elevator groaned as it descended into the lower Core Wing—slower than Dorian remembered. He rubbed the back of his neck, a habit he’d developed over the years to ease tension and sharpen his focus.
Power rerouting, most likely.
Emergency lights flickered overhead, bathing the interior in pulses of sickly red and amber. Around them, the walls weren’t just steel anymore. Organic growth had crept in—twisted roots and sinewy flesh threading from the vents like fingers clawing for air. The Nest hadn’t fully overtaken this part of B4 yet, but it was damn close.
Dorian’s grip tightened around his shotgun.
He heard it before the doors opened. Low hisses. Chittering.
“Stay back,” he ordered sharply, eyes narrowing. “Kalrachs outside. I’ll deal with them.”
The doors slid open.
Three Kalrachs were waiting. Their milky, expressionless eyes locked onto the group like predators scenting prey.
Dorian moved first.
The closest Drone screeched and lunged. He raised the shotgun and fired once.
BANG.
The round punched clean through the Kalrach’s chest. It crumpled mid-lunge, dead before it hit the ground.
The second came from the side. Dorian pivoted smoothly, ducked, and drove his elbow into its throat. As it reeled back, he jammed the barrel into its jaw and pulled the trigger.
BOOM.
Darkened blood sprayed across the corridor. The headless corpse dropped in a heap.
The third shrieked—too slow.
Dorian dropped to one knee, racked the next round, and fired into its lower limb. It staggered. He surged forward, shoved the barrel under its chin, and pulled the trigger again.
BOOM.
Its skull vaporized in a steaming geyser.
Behind him, the kids flinched—Lian muttering a quiet curse under his breath, Mara clutching his sleeve with wide eyes.
Elira didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Her gaze was already scanning the hallway ahead, as calm and detached as ever.
Dorian lowered his shotgun, exhaled, and chambered another round with a quiet click.
“Clear,” he said. “Let’s move.”
…
[06: 06: 02: 56]
He paused outside the threshold of the Core Wing. The walls pulsed faintly, veins of reddish energy glowing just beneath the bioflesh surface. The deeper they went, the more this place stopped resembling a lab.
He looked to Elira.
“When you’re done,” he said quietly, “don’t wait for applause. Get to the tunnels. I’ll leave them marked.”
Elira met his gaze. After a long moment, she extended her hand—streaked with blood, trembling only slightly.
“I meant what I said before,” she murmured. “I didn’t want any of this. But I’ll finish it.”
Dorian looked at her, at the hand between them. He didn’t take it. But he nodded once, firmly.
Elira offered a faint, humorless smile. Without another word, she turned and strode into the dark corridor, her white coat already stained and torn, shotgun raised and ready.
Dorian watched until the shadows swallowed her form. Then he turned to Lian and Mara, gesturing them toward the west tunnel.
“Alright. It’s just us now… stay sharp.”
Mara hesitated. Then she stepped forward and gripped his hand, small fingers trembling. “Will Big Sis be okay?” she asked in a whisper. “She went in alone…”
Dorian’s gaze softened. He crouched beside her. “She’ll be fine,” he said quietly. “Elira’s one of the strongest women I’ve ever known.”
Mara looked down, chewing her lip. “But… you had a fight with her…”
He chuckled softly. “That was just adult stuff, Mara. And you know how stubborn your Big Sis is, right?”
Both kids nodded.
Dorian stood and ruffled Lian’s hair. “Cassian’s the same way. People like them don’t listen unless you yell first. Doesn’t mean we don’t care.”
He turned to the corridor ahead, voice tightening with resolve.
“We’ve got a long road ahead. So let’s pick up the pace. Both your Big Sis and Cassian are counting on us.”
...
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