NEW HOPE

After splitting up, the team members began to explore the massive chamber with caution. The echo of their footsteps rang out across the impeccably clean floor, breaking the unnatural silence that ruled the place. The room was enormous, bright, almost surgical. Everything in it felt disconnected from the outside world—no destruction, no dust, no sign of the apocalypse. Only order and advanced technology.

Driven by instinct, Katya headed straight toward a desk at the far end of the room. Piled on top of it were folders, loose papers, and documents stamped with red seals. Several of them clearly bore the word “CLASSIFIED.”

Frowning, Katya began to leaf through them. The sentences were vague, the terms excessively technical, and most of it was incomprehensible at a glance. Still, the atmosphere radiating from those reports was deeply unsettling. They spoke of test subjects, of “uncontrolled mutations,” of “variants rejected by the immune system,” of “results incompatible with human physiology.” There was something dark hidden behind those clinical words.

On the other side of the room, Vik moved between a series of containment capsules arranged in a row. The glass structures were empty, but they still emanated an eerie sense of unease. At the base of one of them, a small metal plaque read: “Test Subject A.S.”

Vik stopped for a moment, frowning.

“A.S… Could that be the subject’s name?”

The thought unsettled him, but he didn’t let himself dwell on it. There was something else to find. Something more important.

Meanwhile, Anton and Igor remained near one of the tech tables at the center of the room. Igor, wearing a focused expression, tapped rapidly on his tablet, connected via cable to one of the main terminals. Windows of data popped in and out on the screen—encrypted codes, access maps, protection algorithms. Beside him, Anton watched in total silence, arms crossed, eyes locked on the stream of information.

And near the entrance, as if the entire scene didn’t concern him, Yuri leaned casually against the wall. A cigarette hung from his lips, exhaling smoke with calm indifference, as if he were on a coffee break rather than inside a scientific facility that defied all logic. His expression didn’t show boredom—only familiarity… as if he’d been in places like this far too many times, and what seemed extraordinary to the others barely raised one eyebrow for him.

As he moved carefully through the room, Vik paused in front of a stack of crates near the far-left corner. These weren’t ordinary boxes—the unmistakable Theralux logo gleamed, barely scratched, on the metallic surface of each one. Military-grade crates, designed to transport sensitive materials.

He approached without hesitation, instincts fully alert. He crouched and began inspecting the contents with agile but careful hands. Off to the side, between the dust and some fresh footprints, several documents lay scattered, as if someone had dropped them in a hurry. Vik sifted through them quickly, brushing the papers aside—until his gaze stopped on something that made the air leave his lungs.

His eyes widened.

—No way... —he whispered, barely audible.

With trembling fingers, he removed one final sheet—and there, beneath the disordered pile, he saw it: a small wristwatch with a torn leather strap, covered in dust but still intact. An object he knew far too well.

It was Anya’s watch.

The very same one that had belonged to their father. The one she never took off.

Vik picked it up with utmost care, as if it were the most fragile thing in the world. He held it in his hands for several seconds, silently. His face, which had until then shown disbelief, began to change. The shock gave way to something warmer. Deeper. A certainty.

An emotional spark jolted through his entire body.

—She’s alive... —he murmured.

—Vik? —Katya’s voice pulled him from the trance. She had hurried over, noticing the expression on his face. —Are you okay?

Vik looked up. His eyes, now gleaming, left no room for doubt.

—Anya is alive.

—What? What do you mean?

He showed her the watch, as if that small object said everything that needed to be said.

—It’s hers. This watch is hers. She’s alive, Katya!

Katya dropped to her knees beside him without hesitation, wrapping him in a strong, heartfelt embrace.

—That’s amazing, Vik! —she exclaimed, her voice bursting with relief, her smile sincere and glowing.

He hugged her back, his eyes wet with an emotion he had been holding back for weeks. These weren’t tears of sorrow. They were relief. They were hope.

—All this time… I always knew. Anya… you’re alive. And I’m going to find you.

Footsteps echoed on the metal floor—steady but calm. Anton had approached, observing the scene carefully.

—Did you find something? —he asked.

Vik stood up and held the watch out to him.

—This belongs to my sister. She’s been here. She was here.

Anton examined the watch seriously, then nodded after a few seconds.

—That’s good news. If we find her… maybe we’ll find the answers we’re looking for, too.

The emotional silence following the discovery was broken by a voice from the center of the room.

—Boss, I’ve got it. Ready when you are —said Igor, eyes still fixed on his tablet.

Anton turned instantly.

—About time. Do it.

Igor nodded and, with a quick tap on the screen, activated an encrypted sequence. Within seconds, a soft hum reverberated through the walls. At the far end, a section of the wall began to slide apart, revealing a hidden entrance. The mechanical screech of the secret door sliced through the tension like a whispered warning.

SKRRRREEEEEEEK!

Yuri, who had been lounging near the main entrance, straightened up instantly, his brow furrowed.

Vik and Katya stood, eyes locked on the slowly widening gap.

Anton moved with firm steps toward the newly revealed entrance. The glow from the interior light began to cast long shadows on the floor when Vik raised his voice, confused:

—How did you know there was something like that in here?

Anton stopped. He took a deep breath before turning toward them.

—I haven’t told you the whole truth —he admitted, his tone heavy, as if each word weighed him down—. I’m sorry, guys.

Vik and Katya exchanged a confused glance.

Anton continued, without sugarcoating it:

—Yes, we came here looking for a cure… but there was another reason. Igor intercepted a transmission between Theralux operatives. According to the data, advanced prototypes of the virus were being developed here—variants capable of granting unimaginable abilities to the host. Our mission was to find those samples.

Vik’s brow furrowed. His voice carried a hint of reproach.

—Why didn’t you tell us the truth?

—Because I needed you focused. This operation was too delicate —Anton replied, blunt and direct—. I thought we could handle it when the time came.

He fell silent for a moment, then turned and started walking.

—Come on. They might still be here.

They crossed the threshold with caution. The new room was smaller—circular, with walls lined in polished white metal. At its center stood an imposing machine: a cylindrical structure surrounded by robotic arms and storage capsules. Test tubes were neatly aligned in refrigerated compartments, decorating the heart of the device.

Anton stepped forward immediately. His face hardened.

—Damn it... —he growled, peering inside—. Where is it?

The tubes were empty. Not a single sample.

THUD!

With a harsh blow, he slammed his fist against the machine’s metallic shell, releasing his frustration.

Katya, still scanning the room, turned toward him, concerned.

—What do we do now? There’s nothing left...

Anton clenched his teeth. The anger still lingered.

—Search thoroughly. There has to be something. I don’t believe they cleaned this place out completely.

Vik and Katya began rummaging through shelves, sealed compartments, and scattered boxes. For several minutes, all they found was dust and disarray. Until—

—Over here! —Katya called out—. Guys, I’ve got something.

She was crouched near a workbench. In front of her was a sleek black case with the Theralux logo embossed in relief. Vik and Anton rushed over at once.

Anton examined it, grabbed it firmly, and tried to open it. But the electronic lock stayed shut. The device required an access code.

—Tss... It has to be this —he muttered under his breath, almost resigned.

He stood up and gave a sharp nod, as if making a decision.

—Alright. Let’s get back to the others.

They left the room and retraced their steps down the corridor, reuniting with Igor and Yuri, who were waiting by the main console.

Anton handed the case to Igor without hesitation.

—I’ve got a job for you. I need this opened.

—I’m on it —Igor replied eagerly, placing the case on a side table.

As he began working—connecting cables and laying out his precision tools—the rest of the group finally allowed themselves to lower their guard. After hours of tension, danger, and discovery, the silence became, for the first time in a long while… a welcome relief.

Meanwhile, outside...

The air remained heavy with suspended dust, and the echo of post-battle silence floated like a deceptive calm. By the Black Beast, Alexei leaned against the vehicle’s chassis, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the lab’s entrance.

—You think they’re doing okay in there? —he asked, breaking the stillness.

Nikolai let out a soft chuckle as he bent down to check one of the truck’s side panels.

—Of course they are —he said with confidence—. Anton’s with them.

Alexei huffed, turning his head toward the building.

—I should’ve gone in too...

—Stop worrying so much —Nikolai replied, without looking up—. They’ll be fine. Pretty soon they’ll be back out, and we’ll hit the cantina to celebrate.

But the conversation was abruptly cut when Alexei frowned, staring at the ground.

A faint tremor.

—Did you feel that? —he said quietly.

Nikolai looked up, skeptical.

—Feel what?

—A vibration... something’s coming.

—Pff... —Nikolai scoffed—. You’re just tense. There’s nothing out here. Relax, comrade.

Alexei nodded, but hesitantly. He didn’t lower his guard. He remained standing, silent, ears sharp, breath held.

Then—

Another tremor.

Stronger. More distinct.

Alexei straightened up immediately.

—Again! —he shouted.

This time Nikolai felt it too. His brows furrowed in an instant, his eyes narrowing toward the horizon, toward the source of that dull, thunderous thump.

—Yeah... I felt it this time. Stay sharp.

Both men moved away from the vehicle and sought cover among the nearby scrap metal, crouching behind a collapsed structure. They didn’t speak. They just watched.

The tremors became rhythmic. Heavier. Closer.

And then, through the fog and the ruins… a colossal figure began to take shape.

Alexei squinted.

—No way... —he muttered, jaw clenched.

There, emerging from the thick haze and debris, Boris was advancing. Twisted. Covered in wounds—but alive. The same monstrous body that had been buried beneath tons of steel... was still standing.

He dragged one of his deformed limbs as if it no longer obeyed him, but his glowing red eyes burned with more rage than ever.

Alexei swallowed hard. His voice dropped to a grim tone.

—This is bad, Nikolai. We need to move—now.

Nikolai, who hadn’t clearly seen him until that moment, paled instantly. He rose in silence, nodding with the kind of obedience that came from pure survival instinct.

The monster wasn’t dead.

And time… was running out.

Boris emerged from the fog like a predator stalking its prey, his steps clumsy but relentless—like a rabid dog that wouldn’t give up the scent. His grotesquely deformed body bore the brutal aftermath of the battle at the railway station: ruptured pustules, dislocated limbs, shredded flesh… and yet, he kept regenerating.

Slowly, but inevitably.

The mutant’s crimson eyes burned with blind rage. His breath came in wet snarls, as if every step caused pain—yet each one also drew him closer to his target. There was no trace of humanity left in his face. Only the expression of a furious beast.

Alexei watched him approach from behind cover.

—Nikolai —he said quietly, voice low and resolute—. We have to finish that thing. We can’t let it get into the lab.

Nikolai nodded without hesitation, his jaw clenched tight with urgency. He dropped the tarp that covered his heavy weapon and began prepping his high-caliber machine gun—the one he affectionately called “Meat Grinder.” His stocky body moved with mechanical precision. He loaded the ammo swiftly and positioned himself with unwavering intent.

Meanwhile, Alexei slipped from cover and ran toward the rear of the Black Beast. He opened one of the secured storage crates and rummaged through the tactical gear until he found what he needed: several neatly packed C4 charges.

—This’ll do... —he muttered to himself as he checked the detonators.

Boris continued his slow march forward—but he was getting closer.

And then, he roared.

GRRRAAAAAAAAH!

A guttural, hellish roar that thundered through the entire sector like an organic explosion. The cry of a creature that knew neither fear nor pain.

The echo rippled through the ruined structures...

…and the Ashes awoke.

From various points around the perimeter, deformed figures began to crawl out from the rubble. Gray, cracked bodies drawn to the sound like flies to carrion. One by one, they emerged from the shadows—drawn by the cry of their superior kin.

Nikolai scowled and grit his teeth.

—Shit… just what we needed —he growled in frustration.

Without another word, he squeezed the trigger.

BRATATATATATATA!

The Meat Grinder roared to life, and hell broke loose.

High-caliber bullets tore through the Ashes in rapid succession. Bodies exploded, limbs flew, skulls shattered beneath the weapon’s metallic fury. The recoil rattled Nikolai’s arms, but he held his ground, unmoving. His aim held no doubt—only deadly efficiency.

Alexei returned to the combat zone with the C4 now strapped securely to his tactical belt.

Boris, still keeping his distance, took his first step forward. The ground quaked with the impact of his monstrous foot.

THUMP!

His massive, twisted body moved like a biological tank, crushing everything in his path. Around him, the Ashes gathered and charged like his personal army—rushing ahead with wild, clumsy aggression, dragging their claws and screeching, driven by some primitive call.

But none of them were the real threat.

He was.

—Nikolai! —Alexei shouted over the noise, shielding himself from the sparks caused by a ricochet against the Black Beast’s metal frame—. Cover me… I think I’ve got an idea.

He raised the C4 in his hands.

Nikolai, eyes still locked on the swarm, nodded firmly and pressed the trigger harder. The Meat Grinder roared louder, unleashing a fresh storm of fire and lead that shredded Ashes like rag dolls. Bodies fell in waves—black blood and shattered bones erupting in bursts—but they just kept coming.

BRATATATATATATA!

Meanwhile, Alexei slipped along the side of the ruined structure, moving quickly and silently, flanking from the right. He kept the C4 secured, shotgun at the ready, eyes scanning for any threat.

But Boris wasn’t staying still.

With a deafening roar, he hurled his massive, deformed tentacle forward—launching it like a grotesque spear toward Nikolai’s position.

CLANG!

The impact slammed into the protective structure, shaking the entire metal platform and sending dust and debris raining down. Despite the force, Nikolai stood his ground—rooted, unshaken, firing nonstop.

More Ashes. More pressure.

Alexei took advantage of the distraction. He moved like a wolf through the wreckage, shotgun ready. As he sprinted, one Ash lunged directly into his path. Without hesitation, he aimed and fired point-blank.

BOOM!

The mutant’s head exploded into a thousand dark fragments.

A second Ash attacked from the side, screeching ferociously. Alexei twisted his body, dodging the strike with military precision, and smashed the butt of his shotgun into the creature’s face.

CRACK!

The sound of the skull breaking was dry, brutal. The Ash dropped in a twitching heap.

But that move… left him exposed.

Boris turned sharply. His mutilated, rage-contorted face locked onto Alexei in an instant.

And the tentacle came.

FWSSSH!

A gust of air sliced ahead of it, followed by a muffled whoosh—then the impact: a massive, fleshy whip smashed straight into Alexei’s side. The world collapsed around him. The C4 flew from his grip, bouncing off the rubble.

—AHH! —he screamed as his body was flung through the air like a broken puppet.

He crashed into a cracked concrete wall. The impact knocked the breath from his lungs, his back arched, his weapon clattered to the ground. He lay there motionless, gasping, eyes half-shut. Dust rose around him like a slow-moving fog.

The C4 now lay just a few meters away… between him and Boris.

—Shit, kid! —Nikolai roared as he watched Alexei’s body crash against the concrete wall like a broken doll.

He didn’t hesitate. He reloaded the Meat Grinder with swift, practiced hands, urgency etched across his face. Without wasting a second, he jumped from his position, landing hard among the rubble, and charged into the open field, firing relentlessly.

Every step was a storm. Ashes lunged at him, but were blown to pieces before they could land a hit. The ground turned black with gore.

Meanwhile, Boris lumbered slowly toward where Alexei lay motionless. His monstrous figure, still healing from open wounds, loomed like a living tower of hatred and muscle. His deformed face twisted in fury.

With a guttural effort, Alexei tried to lift himself. He coughed blood, a thick thread dripping down his chin. He could barely hold his shotgun, but he refused to die lying down.

An Ash hurled itself at him, rushing ahead of Boris like a rabid hound.

BANG!

The shotgun thundered, and the Ash collapsed with its chest blown open. But Alexei was wheezing—every breath a torment. His body wasn’t responding.

Then Boris reached him.

With a savage sweep of his mutated tentacle, he wrapped it around Alexei’s torso and lifted him effortlessly into the air. His feet dangled, useless. He tried to struggle, but there was no strength left. Boris stared at him with those twisted, hollow eyes, the half-destroyed skull almost smiling—as if savoring the moment before the kill.

—HEY, YOU PIECE OF SHIT! —a voice bellowed behind him.

Nikolai.

He had arrived.

No longer carrying the heavy gun—he’d ditched it for speed—he ran with a pistol in one hand and the C4 in the other. With a savage yell, he launched himself onto Boris’s back like a beast willing to die if needed.

—Pick on someone your own size! —he shouted as he clung to the mutant’s neck, slamming the explosive onto the base of Boris’s skull—right where the mutated flesh was thinnest. Using his knife as an anchor, he drove it deep to lock the charge in place.

Boris roared in pain, dropping Alexei, who hit the ground like a sack of shattered bones.

But Boris struck back.

He opened his mouth and spewed a ball of acid straight at Nikolai. The hit was devastating.

—AGHHHH, MY ARM! —the veteran howled as the green liquid began to eat away at his right arm like living fire.

The pain was unimaginable. The acid devoured flesh, muscle… and bone.

The detonator slipped from his hand—falling to the ground, just out of reach.

Nikolai knew he couldn’t let this happen.

His jaw clenched, face twisted in agony, he grabbed his knife with his left hand. No hesitation. No words.

He drove it into the still-healthy part of his right shoulder… and cut.

A bloodcurdling scream ripped through the air as he amputated what was left of his own arm, tossing the blackened, smoking limb to the ground like burning trash.

The knife dropped. Blood gushed in torrents, but Nikolai gritted his teeth.

—Fuck this... —he spat through gasps, swaying.

But Boris wasn’t done.

Fueled by raw fury, the creature threw his entire body forward—slamming into Nikolai with the full weight of a living battering ram. The impact launched him several meters through the air. He tumbled across the ground, bouncing violently before landing on his back, breathless, bloodied, disarmed.

The world spun.

Sound vanished.

The pain… was unbearable.

And then, Boris advanced. His silhouette loomed beneath the stormy sky, his tentacle rising again for the final strike.

—HEEEEY, YOUUU! —a voice thundered from the shadows.

Boris, tentacle poised for the killing blow, froze. His twisted body slowly turned. Soulless eyes searched for the source of that defiant roar.

And there he was.

Alexei.

Bruised. Bleeding. Barely standing... but standing.

His jacket torn, face caked with dirt and blood—but his eyes burned with fury.

He held the detonator.

With a steady hand, he raised it toward Boris.

—Get up now, you ugly fuck... —he growled, voice hoarse.

CLICK.

The C4 strapped to the back of the creature’s neck detonated with a thunderous blast.

KABOOOOOM!

The world shook.

A fireball and shockwave engulfed everything, hurling Alexei through the air like a ragdoll, while Nikolai rolled across the ground, covering himself with his only remaining arm. The explosion rocked the very foundations of the area, and a deafening hum swallowed all other sounds.

And then... silence.

Only the crackle of debris settling. Only the faint hiss of displaced air. Only the rain... a thick, dark rain.

Blood.

Black droplets began to fall as if the sky itself was weeping death.

Alexei, sprawled on the ground, slowly opened his eyes. In front of him, Boris’s silhouette was still standing...

…but it was just a broken shell.

The head was gone. The torso torn open. The body held upright only by the last flickers of what had once been life.

Alexei exhaled with difficulty, forcing a final smirk.

—Hope you don’t get back up this time… —he whispered, before collapsing into unconsciousness.

A few meters away, Nikolai dragged himself through scorched debris and organic fragments. His face was a blur of sweat, blood, and unbreakable will.

—Hey, kid... —he muttered between gasps, crawling toward Alexei—. Don’t fall asleep yet... this isn’t over...

And he was right.

It wasn’t over.

The explosion. The fire. The blood... it had drawn more.

Ashes.

Dozens emerged from the surrounding ruins like a swarm driven by the scent of death. They advanced with jerky but rapid movements, as if the air itself had turned to madness.

Nikolai looked up at the sky for a moment, his body still burning from the acid, and let out a bitter smile.

—Should’ve opened that bottle of vodka I’d been saving... damn.

He stood in front of Alexei, swaying, gripping his knife with the one hand he had left.

The Ashes came closer.

Leaping.

Snarling.

And just as the first one lunged—

BANG!

A clean, powerful shot blew its head apart midair, the corpse landing just inches from the two men.

Another shot.

And another.

Surgical precision.

The group burst onto the scene, armed and resolute. Vik and Katya appeared first, firing without hesitation at the Ashes charging toward Alexei and Nikolai. Behind them, Anton and Yuri held the flanks with steady, lethal fire. Further back, Igor stumbled forward, visibly terrified, doing his best to stay out of the crossfire.

Vik rushed ahead, his shots precise and merciless.

—Sorry we’re late! —he called out, reaching out a hand to Nikolai.

The older man, smirking with half a twisted grin, grunted:

—Kid… you missed all the fun. —He took the offered hand with a gruff laugh.

Katya’s voice broke through the chaos.

—Alexei!

She ran to him and dropped to her knees immediately. Nikolai looked up slowly, his face carved with pain.

—Relax, girl… he’s still breathing.

Vik helped him to his feet, lifting him by the arm. Then, without hesitation, he hoisted Alexei onto his shoulders, grunting from the effort.

Katya provided cover as they moved. Nikolai, face soaked in blood and sweat, bent down to grab his pistol from the ground. With his one good hand, he kept shooting while Katya swept the rear with deadly accuracy.

The group began to retreat fast.

—Fuck, Nikolai! Your arm! —Anton yelled as he spotted the brutal injury.

—Yeah, yeah… we’ll cry over it later. Now let’s get the hell out of here! —he snapped, hauling his heavy machine gun and climbing aboard the Black Beast.

Vik laid Alexei down in the back, with Katya beside him, supporting his head with gentle care. Yuri was the last to climb in, covering them until the final second. Then Nikolai started the engine, jaw clenched tight, and the Black Beast roared back to life as they tore away from the battlefield.

Despite only having one arm, Nikolai drove like nothing had happened.

His face was locked in a grim mask of pain and steel determination. In the back, Katya cradled Alexei’s head in her lap, a mix of tenderness and worry hanging in the air like fragile glass.

—It’s okay, Katya… —Vik said, sitting beside her—. Alexei’s the toughest guy I know. He’s gonna be alright.

Katya nodded, though the anguish in her eyes remained.

Up front, Anton worked quickly to bandage what remained of Nikolai’s arm, improvising a tourniquet as the truck rattled beneath them.

—Looks like you’ve been busy… —he muttered dryly.

—Yeah… not exactly a quiet afternoon. —Nikolai growled through clenched teeth, enduring the pain without a sound.

—What the hell happened out there?

—That thing… came out of nowhere. Alexei called it Boris. —He paused, swallowing hard—. Sounds like they’ve fought it before.

—We’ll get you patched up as soon as we reach the base. Just hold on.

—I’m fine. This is nothing. —he said with grim pride, as if losing an arm was a minor inconvenience.

Alexei began to stir.

He blinked several times, the first thing he saw was Katya’s face above him—full of relief and concern. He smiled weakly.

—Took you long enough… what kept you? —he muttered in a raspy voice.

—Don’t talk, idiot… you’re hurt. —Katya whispered, gently touching his face. Her smile trembled between joy and fear.

Vik leaned closer, visibly relieved to see his friend awake.

—Hey, big guy… how’re you feeling?

—I’ve been better, honestly. —he joked with a faint chuckle.

—Boris…?

—Yeah. That bastard was still alive. I don’t know how, but he followed us here.

—That’s impossible. Tons of steel fell on top of him.

—Well, turns out… he was tougher than he looked. —he closed his eyes, exhausted—. But now… I don’t think he’s getting back up.

Vik placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

—Rest, man. You earned it.

Alexei gave a faint nod… and let go. In Katya’s arms, under Vik’s watchful gaze, he allowed his body to finally surrender to exhaustion, knowing that—for now—they were safe.

Outside, the storm still loomed over the ruins, distant thunder rumbling through the charred skeletons of buildings. But inside the Black Beast, as it sped across the shattered landscape, a fragile peace settled over the group.

No one spoke for a while.

Katya kept stroking Alexei’s hair, whispering to him even though he was unconscious. Vik sat beside them, scanning the road ahead with a protective glare that spoke of exhaustion... and resolve.

Anton rechecked Nikolai’s bandages, then leaned back in his seat with a deep, heavy sigh. Yuri muttered something sarcastic under his breath but fell quiet when he caught Vik’s stare. Even Igor, huddled in the corner, had stopped shaking—though his wide eyes still reflected what they’d all just survived.

The engine roared.

The wheels crushed the debris of war beneath them.

But within that battered truck, there was something new—a spark.

They had lost blood. They had lost time. They had nearly lost each other.

And yet…

They had found a sign.

Anya was alive.

Somewhere beyond the ash and ruin, beyond the monsters and the secrets of Theralux... she was waiting.

And now, more than ever, they would fight to reach her.

Whatever it took.