Chapter 48 Final Stand

As soon as Mike overrode the lock, the console let out a shrill beep, and the blast doors began to groan open with a heavy ka-chunk. At that exact moment, the security feed flickered back to life—just in time for him to witness his own men making their final stand.

Camera 03: Sector C Hallway

Through the flickering camera feed, Mike squinted, leaning in closer to the monitor, his face stone-hard, jaw clenched. 

“Wait a damn second…” he muttered, dragging his knuckles across the screen like that might clear the static.

The four security officers on-screen were pinned in a nightmarish corridor bathed in flashing red and pale emergency light, chased by crystal-clad horrors moving like something out of a fever dream. But it wasn’t just them. Two figures—unarmed, clearly non-combatants—were being shielded by the guards as they fought their way backward. Lab coats. 

Mike leaned closer and growled under his breath, “Those two... That’s Ichiban and Kaiju.”

Akarui stepped up beside him, squinting. 

“Hey, is that really Professor Ichiban? The video is bad, I can't tell at all.”

“Yeah, it's her and the other one’s Kaiju Hebikawa—head of bio-systems. By the looks of it, middle levels of Helios-9 lab’s fully compromised. And they are fighting for their lives out there.”

Mike jabbed a finger toward the screen. 

“Those four are buyin’ ‘em time. But they’re boxed in—left side’s caved, right’s locked tight. Not many options left only to run to the main hub.”

Shachiku slammed his fist against the console.

 “Shit! Mike, we need to help them.”

He turned toward Mike and Akarui, eyes burning.

“They’re not far. That’s the C-block corridor, right? Two levels above the armory. If we haul ass and don’t run into any freakshows, we might make it in time, right?”

Mike gave Shachiku a long, hard stare—the kind of look that peeled past nerves and straight into bone. 

“Yeah. C-block. Two floors up. Maybe three if the damn quake shifted the structure. Listen, pencil-pusher, you’re startin’ to talk like a guy who’s got more than contracts on his mind. Fine. I don’t care why you’re here or what you’re not tellin’ me. But before we play hero act, we need guns. Or you suggest we fight crystal freaks with bare hands? You don't need to answer that, I believe we all know the answer.”

Then, the video feed flickered, Mike's grip on the console tightened. More creature showed up.

 "Come on, boys. Don't play heros, get outta there—"

The creatures weren't slowing down.

They weren’t running. They didn’t have to. The way they moved was wrong—some crawled along the ceiling, digging jagged limbs into the metal like insects. Others twitched in bursts of unnatural motion, appearing closer every time the lights flickered.

The gunfire barely phased them.

One of the guards, Harada—big guy, good shot—spun around to unload a full magazine into the closest creature. His bullets tore through its crystallized form, causing shards to shatter off its body. It shrieked, an awful, warbling sound that vibrated through the speakers.

Then it lunged.

A flash of jagged limbs, too many limbs, and suddenly, Harada wasn’t standing anymore. He was on the ground, his body thrashing as the thing caved his chest in with a single downward strike.

Another guard let out a curse, switching to his shotgun. He fired at the thing on Harada, blowing off one of its grotesque arms, but it kept moving. It didn’t care. 

A second creature dropped from the ceiling, impaling him through the shoulder before dragging him upwards, his screams gurgling out through the comms. The other two security officers barely had time to react before the creature was on them.

Limbs flailed, teeth gnashed, bodies crumpled under impossible force. The last thing Mike saw before the feed cut out was one of his men—a rookie—trying to crawl away with half his torso missing.

Then static.

Mike exhaled through his nose, his jaw tight. He rubbed a hand down his face, muttering under his breath. 

"Damn it, they were good men. They did not deserve such end."

Behind him, Akarui had gone pale.

 "Jesus, they… they just—"

"They’re gone, kid," Mike cut him off, "Ain’t nothing we can do for ‘em now."

Shachiku, who had been silent the entire time, finally spoke. His voice was flat, but something burned underneath—something cold and determined. 

"Then let’s make sure they didn’t die for nothing. I need to get to Ichiban and make sure she gets out of this place safe. She made a cure, she can stop this mess. Only she can. Mike, your men didn't die for nothing, they let Ichiban to escape."

The blast doors let out a final clang as they locked into place, leaving the three of them staring down the corridor ahead. The emergency lights flickered in erratic pulses, casting long shadows against the twisted walls. The once-sterile metal hallways of Helios-9 had become something else entirely—warped, invaded.

Crimson crystals jutted from the walls like jagged tumors, their surfaces pulsing with an eerie inner glow. The air was thick, damp, carrying a stench that was somewhere between burning plastic and rotting meat. The floor beneath their boots was soft in places, like flesh stretched too thin over bone.

Mike adjusted his grip on his pistol, his jaw set tight.

 "Alright, listen up. Here's what we’re gonna do. We’re sittin’ on the lower levels right now, deep enough that whatever the hell’s goin’ on up top hasn’t fully collapsed down on us yet. That’s the good news."

Akarui stammered, "And the bad news?"

 "Bad news? We sure as hell ain't staying down here. Security hub’s compromised. Blast doors are on lockdown. But the armory? That’s up three floors. And last time I checked, it wasn’t overrun yet. That means we got a damn good chance of gettin’ our hands on better firepower before these things start nesting in there too. And trust me—when that happens, it’s game over."

Shachiku, still standing stiffly in place, agreed. He knew better than anyone what these creatures can do.

"Mike, your right. We need firepower, if we run into one of these creatures, we are done for." 

Akarui gulped audibly. His earlier bravado was gone, replaced by darting eyes and tense shoulders.

 "Yeah, yeah, armory sounds good, but uh… how do we get up? Elevator's dead, and I doubt we can just take the stairs and stroll up like it’s a fire drill."

Mike let out a dry chuckle. 

"You catch on quick, kid. Yeah, stairs are a no-go. Too exposed—too many angles, too many places for these things to drop down on us from. But we got another way." 

He pointed down the corridor.

 "Service ladder access is two halls down. It’s meant for maintenance crews—narrow space, steel casing, one way up. That means they can’t flank us."

Shachiku frowned. 

"And if they’re waiting at the top?"

Mike tapped the side of his pistol.

 "Then we clear the room before they get the chance to rip out our throats... or die trying, this can go only two ways from now."

Akarui exhaled sharply.

 "Yeah, cool, awesome plan. Love it. Except for the part where we have to crawl up a damn ladder with god-knows-what breathing down our necks."

Mike gave him a dry look. 

"What, you want me to carry you, kid? Get movin’."

They didn’t need to be told twice.

They stepped lightly, every creak of their boots feeling too loud. The hallway stretched ahead of them like an open throat, swallowing them deeper into the bowels of Helios-9.

Mike led the way, moving with the practiced precision of a man who had walked through hell before and had no intention of dying here. Shachiku followed, his mind racing, trying to remember. Trying to piece together the future he had already seen.

Akarui, bringing up the rear, couldn’t stop himself from glancing over his shoulder every few steps. 

They passed an open office—if it could still be called that. Desks had been overturned, their contents scattered across the floor. The walls were veined with the same red crystals, spreading like an infection. A trail of blood led toward the far wall, ending in a pile of… something. A tangle of limbs, half-absorbed into the crystalline structure.

Akarui gagged. 

"Jesus, man, is that—?"

Mike shoved him forward without looking. 

"Don’t think about it. Keep moving."

They turned a corner and nearly tripped over a corpse.

A security officer, slumped against the wall, his rifle still clutched in a death grip. His armor was shattered, punctured in multiple places where crystal formations had grown through him from the inside. His visor had long since been eaten away, leaving only an empty skull, grinning up at them through the glass.