RETURN TO BASE

The dim light of the lamp barely illuminated the piles of papers cluttering Commander Mikhail Volkov’s desk. The dense air of the office smelled of tobacco and military routine. With a slow sigh, Mikhail leafed through an incomplete report when a sharp knock on the door pulled him from his focus.

BANG!

—Commander, Alpha team has returned —announced a soldier, firm and with a voice tempered by duty.

Mikhail raised his gaze slowly, letting the paper drop onto the desk. His eyes, hardened by years of combat, flickered with a spark of interest.

—Hmm… about time.

The heavy iron doors of the main entrance creaked open with a metallic shriek that echoed through the underground hangar.

SKRRRREEEEEEEK!

Through the dust and gloom at the entrance, the Black Beast emerged. The armored vehicle advanced slowly, like a wounded beast refusing to fall, until it parked beside a row of smaller, neatly lined-up transports.

Two guards approached the squad with the same precision they’d been trained to uphold.

—Welcome back —said one of them, voice steady, posture sharp.

Anton stepped down from the vehicle without hesitation.

—Get the medical team. We have wounded.

—Yes, sir. Right away, sir —replied the soldier before sprinting toward the infirmary.

One by one, the members of Alpha team began to disembark. Their faces were worn, their clothes stained—silent evidence of a mission that had demanded too much. Vik stepped down carefully, carrying an unconscious Alexei over his shoulders. Katya followed close behind, helping to stabilize his body.

—Come on, big guy… we made it —murmured Vik, adjusting his hold.

—Hang in there, Alexei. Help’s on the way —added Katya, her voice thick with concern.

It didn’t take long. The medical team arrived at full speed, pushing stretchers and carrying emergency kits. Within seconds, they had surrounded Alexei and swiftly transferred him onto one.

—It’s alright —one of the doctors assured, checking his vitals—. We’ll take it from here.

Katya and Vik nodded, stepping back, knowing he was in good hands.

Meanwhile, Anton approached Nikolai, who was climbing down on his own, wearing an expression that wavered between anger and grim resignation.

—Come on, Nikolai. You need medical attention too. You’ve lost a lot of blood.

—Tss… I’m fine —the veteran growled, brushing off the medic who tried to help him—. I can manage on my own.

With firm steps—though clearly weakened—Nikolai stood tall and followed one of the doctors toward the infirmary. His missing arm was a gaping wound that spoke for itself, but his pride was even harder to mend.

Still on the hangar platform, with the Black Beast in the background and soldiers bustling around them, Anton walked over to Vik and Katya. Behind him came Yuri and Igor, trailing slightly but alert.

—Well... —Anton began, his voice tired but calm—. The mission wasn’t exactly easy, but at least we’re all alive. And we got what we came for. Come on, we need to report to Commander Mikhail.

But before they could move, a deep, commanding voice interrupted them from across the hangar:

—That won’t be necessary.

They all turned at once. Mikhail Volkov was walking toward them with his usual unshakable stride—imposing, like a figure out of a war-torn memory. He wore his uniform with the same pride as always, and even without his trademark cigar, his presence was enough to fill the space.

Anton straightened immediately.

—Commander! What are you doing here?

Mikhail stopped in front of them and crossed his arms.

—I came to see how my men are doing… —he paused briefly, his eyes landing on Katya—. And my girl. Looks like it wasn’t an easy mission… I hope Alexei and Nikolai recover soon. I’ll check in on them later.

Vik, his face still marked by recent tension, stepped forward.

—We ran into trouble with mutants. One in particular...

Mikhail’s brow furrowed with curiosity. Then, gently, he placed a firm hand on the boy’s shoulder.

—Easy, son. What matters is you’re here now. Tell me... did you find what you were looking for?

Vik slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out a small object. He held it in both hands like it was the most fragile treasure in the world. The watch.

—I found more than I expected —he said quietly—. But… it wasn’t enough.

His voice carried a mixture of hope and resignation. He had found a vital clue, but his sister was still missing.

Mikhail nodded gravely, understanding without the need for more words.

—Your sister is alive, son. I truly believe that. And you will find her. Soon.

Vik gripped the watch tighter, feeling his resolve surge inside. He thanked the commander with a steady, silent look.

—Commander —Anton interrupted, his tone turning serious—, we need to talk… about the other matter.

Mikhail glanced at him sideways.

—All in due time, Anton. Let’s go to the office. I want a full report of everything that happened.

Anton nodded respectfully, and the two of them walked off together, crossing the hangar toward the main office.

The group began to slowly disperse. Vik, Katya, Yuri, and Igor remained behind for a few more moments.

—Well, I’m out of here —said Yuri, stretching his arms—. I want to wash all this blood off and drink until I forget what day it is. —He let out a laugh that only he seemed to find funny.

Igor simply added, emotionless:

—I’ve got work. See you later.

Yuri and Igor headed down opposite corridors, leaving Vik and Katya standing alone in the middle of the hangar. A brief silence settled between them.

—It’s been a rough day… —Katya murmured—. I’m worried about Alexei. We should go check on him.

Vik nodded, his eyes briefly drifting toward the direction where their friend had been taken.

—Don’t worry, Katya. Let the medics do their job. We’ll see him later.

She wrapped one arm around herself, a small involuntary gesture of worry, and nodded softly.

—You’re right…

Without another word, they walked together into the depths of the base, as the noise of the camp slowly faded behind them.

Commander Mikhail’s Office

The silence in the office was broken only by the soft hum of a fan in the corner. The dim lights cast a dull glow over the stacks of files on the steel desk, each marked with red stamps and long-forgotten dates. Standing beside a metal shelf, Mikhail slowly turned to Anton, his expression as rigid as his stance.

—Do you have it? —he asked in a low, direct tone.

Anton nodded and approached the desk. In his hands was a black, reinforced briefcase with the Theralux logo engraved in subtle detail. He set it down carefully, as if it held something more dangerous than mere information.

—Yes, sir. Right here.

Mikhail examined it with a steely gaze, without moving a muscle.

—Did you check it?

—No, sir —Anton replied—. It has an electronic lock. I didn’t want to force it without authorization.

Mikhail nodded slowly, his eyes still locked on the case.

—Call Igor. I want him to start working on it immediately. I need to know what’s inside.

—Yes, sir. I’ll go right away.

Anton turned to leave, but Mikhail stopped him with a single word:

—Wait.

Anton turned back.

—Tell me what happened with the mutant Vik mentioned.

The commander’s voice had dropped an octave. It wasn’t an order—it was interest. Dangerous interest.

Anton took a deep breath.

—It was a mutant with special abilities —he began—. I didn’t see it in action myself, but according to Yuri and Nikolai… it was a monster. Huge, stronger than any Ash or Predator. It had a tentacle it used as a weapon and… it spat acid.

He paused briefly, the memory of the battle flashing in his mind.

—That’s how Nikolai lost his arm.

Mikhail’s brow tightened as he stepped closer to the briefcase.

—So… aside from Ashes and Predators, there are even more dangerous variants —he muttered to himself, voice low and calculating. The tone of a strategist facing a threat he didn’t yet fully understand—. Interesting…

He looked back at Anton.

—Thank you. Now go get Igor.

Anton straightened up and gave a sharp military salute.

—Yes, sir.

He left the office with quick, decisive steps, leaving the commander alone, standing before the case—arms crossed, eyes fixed on it as if he could will it open through sheer force.

Igor’s Room

Igor’s quarters were a hybrid of robotics lab, operations center, and personal junkyard. Cables hung like vines from overloaded shelves. Screens flickered with codes and digital schematics. In one corner, a stack of boxes full of electronic parts threatened to collapse. On the desk, scattered blueprints were mixed with surgical tools built for high-precision work.

Seated in his swivel chair, Igor stared at his tablet with laser focus, as if the outside world didn’t exist.

The door swung open without warning.

—The commander needs you to open the briefcase. It’s urgent —Anton said bluntly.

Igor slowly turned his head, maintaining his usual calm.

—Do you think it’s the right thing to do, boss?

Anton let out a small sigh. The question wasn’t trivial—but there was no room for hesitation.

—We don’t have a choice.

For a few seconds, Igor said nothing. Then he nodded, almost with resignation.

—Alright. I’ll be right there.

Anton nodded in appreciation.

—Thanks, Igor. Talk to you later.

He turned and left the room, leaving behind the charged atmosphere of that chaotic technological sanctuary. His face showed worry, responsibility… and something more. As if he already suspected that whatever was inside that case might not just change the mission—

—but the entire world.

Camp Infirmary

The pale light filtering through the medical tent barely touched Alexei’s face as he lay on one of the stretchers inside the improvised clinic. Bandaged nearly head to toe, with tubes connected to his left arm and gauze covering his chest, his breathing was slow but steady. Still, his expression held a trace of that irreverent toughness that had always defined him.

Vik and Katya approached quietly, careful not to wake the other wounded nearby.

—Well, look who we have here —said Vik, his tone warm and familiar—. How you doing, big guy?

Alexei opened his eyes halfway and gave a weak smile that quickly turned into a grimace of pain.

—Been better… heh —he murmured.

Katya knelt beside the stretcher, visibly relieved but her face still marked by worry.

—You scared me half to death. What the hell were you thinking, going up against that thing?

Alexei turned his head slightly toward her, his voice hoarse but steady.

—I wasn’t gonna let that bastard Boris get to the lab. Not while you were all still inside. I wouldn’t allow it.

Katya lowered her gaze, smiling softly.

—Thank goodness you’re okay…

Alexei clenched his jaw and his fist. His expression darkened.

—Yeah… but Nikolai… his arm…

Silence fell over them like a weight. Vik crossed his arms, eyes dropping for a moment before speaking.

—Nikolai’s strong. He’ll pull through.

Alexei closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again—calmer this time.

—I guess you’re right… I’ll go see him as soon as I can move —he added with a crooked grin.

Katya leaned in and gently kissed his forehead.

—Get some rest, okay? We’ll visit you tomorrow.

Alexei’s rugged face flushed slightly—embarrassed and grateful all at once. Vik smiled, and the two of them took one last look before leaving the tent.

As they stepped through the canvas flap, a contrasting image met them.

In the medical tent across the way, Nikolai sat upright, shirtless, thick bandages wrapped around the right side of his torso where his arm had once been. He held a flask in his fingers while a medic carefully checked the fresh dressing. His face, hardened by pain and rage, warned everyone to keep their distance.

Vik watched him for a few seconds. He considered saying something… but stopped.

It wasn’t the time.

Nikolai needed silence, not words.

They continued walking, weaving between the line of parked vehicles. Then, a familiar voice broke through the camp’s routine.

—VIIIK! KATYAAA!

They turned just in time to see Artiom charging toward them, arms wide open and energy overflowing. Beside him, like a confident shadow, walked Dasha—her cap tilted, a calm, sharp look on her face.

—Hey, guys —Vik greeted, offering a sincere smile.

—What’s with the long faces? —Dasha asked, frowning with mock disapproval—. Was it a boring mission?

Vik sighed.

—I wish. We all made it back alive, but… things went sideways.

The siblings’ expressions changed immediately. Vik’s tone left no room for jokes. Worry took over their faces at once.

—Where’s Alexei? —Dasha asked seriously—. Is he alright?

—Yeah —Katya replied—. He’s in the infirmary, resting. He faced off against a mutant… one unlike anything we’ve seen before.

Vik then told them everything: the lab ambush, the briefcase, Boris. All of it. Artiom and Dasha listened without interruption, absorbing every word with a mix of awe and quiet respect.

—Damn it… —Dasha muttered, her fists clenched—. We should’ve been with you.

—Don’t worry —Vik said, trying to soften his tone—. Alexei’s tough. We made it. He’s alive, and that’s what matters.

Artiom, who hadn’t spoken until then, stepped forward.

—And… did you find anything about Anya?

Vik lowered his gaze and pulled a small watch from the pocket of his jacket. He held it between his fingers like a sacred relic.

—This is hers —he said quietly—. She would never part with it.

Dasha stared at it intently. Her voice came out firm.

—So… what’s the next step, Vik?

The boy stared at the watch for a few seconds. Then, with a resolute voice, he answered:

—I don’t know.
But I’ll find her.
No matter what it takes.

Commander Mikhail’s Office

While Vik, Katya, Artiom, and Dasha were catching up outside, the atmosphere inside Mikhail’s office was something entirely different: enclosed, tense, and expectant.

Igor stood in front of the desk, his fingers flying across the screen of his tablet, which was connected to the Theralux briefcase via several cables. The bluish glow from the interface lit up his face, focused with total concentration.

—Mmm… this subcircuit... should route to the secondary node... —he murmured to himself, as if no one else were present—. Let’s see... yes, there we go. And now… aha… got it.

Mikhail and Anton watched silently from across the desk, attentive but clearly not understanding a word Igor said. Their eyes moved between the case and the screen, waiting—until a soft click echoed through the room.

Igor lifted his head with a proud smile.

—It’s open. That was easy —he said with a slightly smug tone, as if he’d just cracked a children’s puzzle.

Mikhail didn’t look away from the case. He gave a single nod.

—Good work, kid.

He stepped up to the briefcase with purpose, placing both hands on the lid. With a restrained motion, he lifted it open.

The interior was lined with dark gray padding, designed to protect its contents: two high-tech syringes, filled with a glowing violet liquid. They were perfectly aligned, each nestled in its own compartment. Off to the side, inserted with surgical precision, was a small storage device—a black USB drive branded with the Theralux logo.

Mikhail studied the contents with narrowed eyes. His expression didn’t change, but his hands moved quickly. He picked up the USB drive and, without a word, shut the briefcase again with a sharp CLICK.

—This is… —he murmured, more to himself than to anyone else, without finishing the thought.

He straightened and turned to Igor.

—Decrypt it. I want every bit of information you can pull—fast.

He handed Igor the USB drive. The young man took it carefully, nodding silently, already lost in the challenge ahead.

Anton, who had remained quiet by the window, stood deep in thought. His eyes locked on the closed case—not just as if what he had seen confirmed something—but as if it raised a far more dangerous question.

A heavy certainty settled over the room.

Whatever they had just unlocked...
could change everything.

Somewhere beneath the surface of Russia
Theralux Secret Base – Vladimir Karpov’s Office

The hum of fluorescent lights was the only sound breaking the glacial silence of the underground office. In the center, a polished steel desk reflected the glow of active screens and scattered documents. Vladimir Karpov stood by the armored window that overlooked the lit tunnels of the base, flipping through a report with a severe expression.

Suddenly, the door burst open. A soldier rushed in, breathless, eyes wide with tension.

—Sir, sorry for the intrusion —he said, offering a sharp salute.

Vladimir slowly raised his eyes, cold and brimming with irritation.

—What is it?

—We received a signal, sir. —The soldier’s voice trembled slightly.

Vladimir raised an eyebrow, impatient.

—What signal? Speak plainly. I don’t have time for nonsense.

—It’s a security alert, sir. A remote-access signal… It looks like someone hacked into the security system of one of the briefcases from Lab 2-F and managed to open it.

Silence fell for a moment.

Vladimir lowered the report slowly. Then, with sudden violence, he slammed his fist onto the desk.

—WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY HACKED IT?!

The soldier swallowed hard.

—It seems… we didn’t retrieve everything. There was a failure during the withdrawal operation. One of the briefcases was left behind.

—What was inside?

The soldier hesitated for a split second.

—Prototypes PR-VX01 and PR-VX02… sir.

A tense calm settled in the office. Vladimir took a long breath and then, with a measured voice, spoke as he sat back down in his chair.

—Very well. Everyone makes mistakes… Come closer. I’ll tell you what we’re going to do next.

The soldier, confused but obedient, stepped slowly toward the desk.

And then, a sharp sound cut through the air.

BANG!

The shot was clean. Brutal.

The soldier’s body folded in half as blood gushed from his stomach. He dropped to his knees, hands trying in vain to contain the wound, then collapsed entirely, choking on his own blood.

Vladimir, still holding the smoking pistol, didn’t blink.

—I hope this serves as an example to the rest of your squad —he muttered with surgical coldness—. I don’t want any more mistakes.

Two soldiers burst into the room, drawn by the gunshot. They froze upon seeing their comrade’s corpse on the floor.

—Clean this up. And notify Natasha. It’s time to move.

The soldiers nodded without a word. One dragged the body while the other began wiping the blood off the floor, leaving a dark trail behind them.

Vladimir stood alone a few more seconds, staring at the spot where the man had fallen.

—Of all the briefcases… it had to be that one.

Silence returned… until the door opened again.

A woman entered with a commanding stride. Despite the sterile environment, her presence radiated authority. Around twenty-five years old, stunning, with a sleek, athletic build, she wore a Theralux tactical uniform that deliberately revealed portions of her skin—as if her very appearance was part of her strategy. Her short black hair was streaked with red, glowing subtly under the artificial lights. Her eyes, with a faint crimson glint, were as cold as Vladimir’s.

—Sir, you called for me? —she said, casting a brief glance at the fresh trail of blood on the floor.

Vladimir turned to her.

—I did. I want you to prepare an assault unit. You’re heading out immediately to recover something that belongs to me. It’s of the utmost importance.

—Understood, sir —she replied firmly. She didn’t ask questions. She didn’t seek explanations. She simply obeyed.

She turned to leave, but Vladimir’s voice stopped her.

—One more thing… —he added, tone heavy—. Show no mercy. I want no more failures.

Natasha turned back one last time. Her expression didn’t change.

—Yes, sir. I won’t disappoint you.

Once the door closed behind her, Vladimir allowed himself a brief moment of reflection. He placed both hands on the desk, eyes locked onto the digital reflection of the briefcase.

—I sincerely hope not… —he muttered, his voice laced with restrained fury and grim determination.

Because now,
the game had changed.
And the hunt...
had just begun.