Another Harbinger

The three of us form up, briskly climbing the stairs while bracing for what awaits us on the second floor.

The second floor of the facility housed many dark, claustrophobic, and winding paths, a stark contrast to the wide-open foyer from the first floor.

The three of us activate our flashlights, serving as our only respite from the darkness of the second floor, reading our pistols to combat any enemies who are drawn to our light. Though the atmosphere of the first floor was heavy, the cramped quarters of the second floor are suffocating. We begin to come across medical equipment the deeper we venture into the darkness.

First, we come across empty syringes and medicine boxes…

We proceed further…

And come across IV drips and discarded crash carts…

We proceed even further…

And come across overturned medical beds with torn bloodied sheets and surgical tools scattered across the floor.

The metallic scent of blood stings my nostrils. Though the equipment may be old, the blood is fresh.

Finally, we come across a room with an open door, and I shine my flashlight inside to reveal…

Dozens of scratch marks on the wall, humbly illuminated by the half-moon peeking through one small, shattered window.

Harbinger enters the room to investigate, shining his flashlight directly at the scratch marks. “We’re far from the city. Could’ve been a trapped animal.”

Jen shakes her head and presses her hand against the wall. She spreads her fingers to reveal that the scratch marks could have only been made by a human hand. She then points her flashlight at the floor and recoils at what she finds…

Human fingernails.

Piled against the wall.

Chipped and broken from scratching at the walls…

“Jen, you’re the medical expert. What’s going on here?” Harbinger barks.

“Could be psychosis patients. Or…”

“They were trying to escape,” Jen and I declare simultaneously.

Just as we make our grim realization, my communications device groans awake. Though garbled, I can barely make out a few words: “wait,” “doing,” and “here.”

“The connection is stronger on the upper floor,” Harbinger exclaims. “Trace is close, but based on all the blood we found, he may be in rough shape.”

I put together what I have seen thus far, and I am overcome with a sinking feeling.

And I utter a question that my teammates don’t have an answer to:

“If there are victims here, then where are their bodies?”

The three of us continue forward, with only the periodic murmurs from my communication device to guide us. The deeper we ventured into the facility, the louder and more pronounced the garbled audio from the distress signal became. Again, the words “wait,” “doing,” and “here” repeat in a loop, accompanied by static. Trace must have left us a recording…

Finally, after traversing countless corridors, each bearing evidence of human scratch marks on the walls, we reach a giant sealed door. The communication device clamors to be heard as we near the door. His distress signal must be right behind this massive barrier.

Jen asks, “We aren’t getting through there without explosives. What’s next?” Harbinger promptly orders, “Scan the room for intel. All the evidence in the previous areas must’ve already been moved or destroyed. This may be our last chance to find what we need before we rescue Trace.”

Jen quietly mutters, “Let’s hope that we don’t get disposed of along with the evidence.” I concur. We break off and search the room.

As I more closely examine the room, I am greeted by dozens of indiscernible pages of scientific notes plastered against the walls. The rest of the room is a chaotic mess, with overturned shelves, piles of documents, and loose binders scattered across the floor. It was as if a scientist was in the middle of cracking a difficult problem, then left empty-handed. In the corner of my eye, I spot a single upright cabinet near a desk.

Just how old were all these paper documents? Or did the author of these documents simply prefer manual, analog methods to electronic ones? Though, if they were using manual documents to cover their tracks, then they must also be hiding whatever they are doing here from Paladin, their own employer…

I thrust open the doors of the upright cabinet, revealing several labeled binders organized by topic.

I read the file labels aloud:

“Catatonics.”

“Human Augmentation.”

“School.”

A School…? Was that the one me and Harbinger—

Jen, shocked by my mention of a school, cuts me off, and shouts, “School?! What. Did. They. Do?!” How uncharacteristic of the forbearing Jen. Though, it is only natural for a medical expert to care about the well-being of their patients. Jen trembles as she glares at the contents of the cabinet, fury erupting across her face.

As Jen paces the room, she bumps into… an operating table with restraints and numerous medical tubes fastened to a canopy just above the table. She winces, empathizing with those subjected to the presumed unsanctioned experiments administered here.

“W-Why,” Jen asks, choking up. She clears her throat and continues, “Why would any self-respecting doctor operate here. It’s filthy and full of contaminants. They’d never create anything worthwhile here!”

Harbinger takes a moment to reflect, then firmly answers, “It’s because we’re dealing with someone more concerned with the result than the method used to achieve it. That, or they were administering something not susceptible to containments, something other than medicine.”

Jen looks away, stifling a sob.

This hospital… No, this slaughterhouse is a rejection of everything Jen stands for.

Harbinger, not letting the gravity of the macabre situation get to him, calmly analyzes the situation, poised to bring down the perpetrators who committed these heinous crimes. “Dreadnought. Take those files from the cabinet and hold onto them tight. Val can analyze this to determine the extent of this operation. She’ll determine whether we’re dealing with a rogue agent, or a conspiracy concealed by the entire Paladin enterprise.”

I execute Harbinger’s order, storing all relevant files from the cabinet inside my backpack. As I pack away the batch of binders related to the school, an image comes loose, confirming my suspicions that the school Harbinger and I infiltrated, and the school mentioned in these documents are one and the same.

As I pack away the last of the binders, I can sense Jen’s fury gradually leave her body, returning to her dependable self.

I double-check the loose-leaf papers in and around the cabinet, and I freeze in place as I lay my eyes upon a document bearing the blueprint for a mask. It calls to me. I must retrieve it from this dark place…

I reach for the document, snatching it as if expecting one of my teammates to take it from me first. The mask is unlike any design I’ve seen before. Six eyes adorn the jet-black, shield-shaped mask—a mask that better suits the face of a demon rather than the face of a human.

Though unintelligible equations and dimensions are scrawled on the blueprint, I recognize an all-too-familiar moniker almost immediately:

“Project:Harbinger.”