Breaking Into Zone E Part 1

The metal grates of the access duct hummed a low, resonant thrum against my fingertips as I edged forward, the confined space a claustrophobic embrace. Aiden moved beside me, his motions far too relaxed for someone sneaking into one of the most dangerous black sites known to mankind. I swallowed hard, forcing my focus onto the singular, burning purpose of our mission. Dad was in here.

A cheerful, utterly incongruous voice crackled in my earpiece, a stark contrast to the grim reality of our situation.

“Okaaay! Security grid shift commencing in t-minus thirty seconds! You gotta move fast, fast, fast – oh! And for the love of all that is fluffy, don’t touch the glowy bits!”

I froze mid-crawl, my heart leaping into my throat. Glowy bits?

Aiden let out a sharp, frustrated exhale beside me, his whisper laced with an edge of panic. “Lumina, what glowy bits?”

“Oh, you know!” my little sister chirped, her tone utterly unconcerned by the potential for imminent vaporization. “They’re, like, super glowy, usually red or a nasty shade of purple, and if you touch them? Big boom! Like, not a cute little ‘oopsie’ boom – a BIG boom. Explodey-explodey.”

A low groan rumbled in Aiden’s chest. “And this vital piece of information was something you only felt the urgent need to share now?”

“Oopsie! My bad! I got a little distracted because Nutmeg just did the most adorable little barrel roll in his exercise ball! You should have seen it!”

I could practically hear the infuriatingly smug grin spreading across Aiden’s face.

“See, Delia? Priorities. This is precisely why Nutmeg, in his infinite wisdom and undeniable cuteness, outranks all of us in the grand hierarchy of Team Impossible.”

I ignored them, my patience already wearing thin. We had seconds before the window of opportunity closed. I opened the vent grate and dropped down, landing softly as the suit absorbed the impact. Aiden followed, his exoskeleton adjusting smoothly to the descent. We moved quickly. But the instant my boots hit the floor, something felt wrong.

Zone E wasn’t just a prison. It was something else entirely, something far more sinister. A vast, cavernous chamber stretched before us, bathed in the eerie, pulsating glow of emergency lights. Rows upon rows of containment units, their reinforced glass cracked and scarred, lined the walls like silent sentinels.

Whatever had been stored here, whatever necessitated such extreme containment, was gone now. The air hung heavy with a silence that felt less like emptiness and more like the lingering echo of something terrible.

Before I could even begin to process the unsettling scene, the faint crackle in my earpiece died, plunging us into an unnerving silence. The communication system had gone completely dead. I blinked, my hand instinctively reaching up to touch the unresponsive device.

“Lumina?” I whispered into the dead air, my voice barely audible in the vast chamber.

Only silence answered. A cold, heavy silence that spoke volumes.

Aiden exhaled slowly, stretching his arms above his head as if this sudden communication blackout was no more than a minor inconvenience, rather than a potentially fatal severing of our lifeline. “Well,” he drawled, his voice echoing eerily in the stillness. “That’s…unfortunate. Guess we’re officially on our own now.”

My fists clenched, the metallic weave of my hamster gear digging into my palms. No distractions. We moved forward, a silent, determined force cutting through the sterile heart of the facility. Then – the shrill blare of an alarm shattered the tense quiet. Security had spotted us.

The first guard, clad in heavy tactical armor, raised his energy rifle, the weapon’s barrel glowing menacingly. But he was too slow, his movements sluggish compared to the enhanced reflexes afforded by my suit. My hand darted into a reinforced pouch on my thigh, retrieving a small, dense energy pellet.

A swift, practiced throw – the satisfying thud of impact against the guard’s chest plate – followed by a blinding flash of light and a concussive explosion that ripped through the narrow corridor. The guards staggered backward, momentarily blinded and disoriented, unable to react to the sudden assault.

Aiden surged forward, his enhanced exoskeleton a blur of motion. Every step was faster, every strike sharper, amplified by the powerful servos and lightweight alloys. The hamster battle suits, initially a ludicrous concept, were performing flawlessly, transforming us into surprisingly formidable combatants. But the rhythmic thud of heavy boots echoing from the adjacent corridors signaled the arrival of more reinforcements, a seemingly endless tide of armed personnel.

Aiden glanced at me, his usual cocky grin flickering, replaced by a sharp, serious intensity I rarely saw. The hulking figure of the Head of Security, Diego, his face a mask of grim determination, pushed his way to the forefront of the advancing guards.

“Keep going, Delia,” Aiden ordered, his voice low and urgent, his eyes locked on the approaching threat. “I’ll…I’ll provide a diversion. Just get your father.”

I hesitated, my heart twisting with a surge of protectiveness. Aiden was throwing himself directly into the path of danger, facing overwhelming odds. But the image of Dad, weak and vulnerable, flashed in my mind. If I stayed, if we both engaged Diego and his men, we risked being overwhelmed, the chance of reaching my father slipping away entirely. With a painful surge of resolve, I made the agonizing choice and ran on ahead, leaving Aiden to face the brunt of the security forces.

My breath hitched, a strangled gasp escaping my lips the instant I saw him.

"Dad."

His once sharp, commanding posture was reduced to slumped shoulders and unsteady limbs, the vibrant energy I remembered replaced by a weary resignation. But when his eyes, clouded with exhaustion and pain, met mine, a flicker of profound relief, quickly followed by confusion, sparked within their depths.

“Delia? What…what are you doing here?” he breathed, his voice raspy and strained.

I swallowed hard, my fingers fumbling with the complex locking mechanism of the restraints that held him pinned against the freezing steel of the chamber wall. “Of course I did. Lumina and I…we’ve been worried sick about you.”

His wrists were raw and chafed, but I barely allowed myself a moment to register the extent of his suffering. We needed to move, and fast. I slipped his arm over my shoulder, supporting his weight as we staggered toward the exit, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

“We have to get to the rendezvous point,” I said quickly, my voice tight with urgency. “Aiden is going to try and—”

Dad had stopped moving, his unsteady steps faltering. His breath hitched, a sharp, almost painful sound, and his expression tightened, not in pain, but in a sudden, shocking recognition. Something profound shifted in Dad's eyes, a flicker of a memory long buried, a connection I couldn’t possibly understand. Then – barely above a whisper, a fragmented truth clawing its way to the surface from some forgotten corner of his mind –

“You…you can’t be,” Dad hesitated, his voice thick with disbelief, his gaze unwavering on Aiden. “Volkov’s…son.”

I staggered back, suddenly weightless and dizzy, as if the very floor beneath my feet had tilted precariously. The air in the cold chamber seemed to thin, making it hard to breathe.

“What?” The single word was barely a croak, a desperate plea for an explanation that made no sense.

Aiden said nothing. No protest. No denial. No sarcastic remark. No flippant dismissal – nothing. He just stood there, his chest heaving, his eyes locked on my father with an expression I couldn’t decipher. Too still. Not surprised, but…resigned. He knew. He had always known. A crushing weight settled in my chest, a sharp, agonizing betrayal slicing into my ribs like a blade I never saw coming.

“You lied to me,” I whispered, my voice barely a controlled tremor, the shock and hurt a raw, gaping wound.

Aiden didn’t resist the accusation. He simply stood there, his silence a deafening confirmation. Before I could process the enormity of his deception, before the weight of his betrayal could fully sink in, heavy, authoritative footsteps echoed through the corridor behind us, growing louder with terrifying speed. I whirled around – and my stomach plummeted.

Captain Noah. Diego. And standing between them, his eyes cold and calculating, radiating an aura of absolute control – Volkov. The man behind everything. A white-hot rage, primal and all-consuming, boiled over, eclipsing any semblance of rational thought. I turned back to Aiden, my fury exploding through every nerve in my body, a raw, visceral betrayal that demanded immediate action.

I slapped him – hard. The sound echoed in the tense silence, a sharp, brutal crack that punctuated the shattering of everything I thought I knew.

He let me. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t raise a hand in defense. Volkov simply sighed, a drawn-out, weary sound that spoke of utter boredom, profound disinterest, as if the raw emotion tearing through the room wasn’t even worth the mildest flicker of amusement.

“Enough, girl,” he murmured, his voice smooth and devoid of inflection, yet carrying an undeniable weight of authority. “If you value your sister’s continued existence, I suggest you exercise a modicum of restraint.”

My blood ran cold, the fury that had been a roaring inferno suddenly extinguished by a chilling wave of dread. My breath hitched in my throat, a silent gasp of terror.

“No.” The denial was a pathetic whisper, a fragile shield against the icy certainty in his eyes.

“Franny has her,” Volkov confirmed, the words delivered with a chilling casualness, as if stating an indisputable fact, a preordained conclusion.

As if it was already done. I grabbed my communicator, but only static came through. Lumina. They had her. This wasn’t just about rescuing Dad anymore. The stakes had been raised, the game irrevocably changed. It was about saving all of us from Volkov’s cold, calculating grasp. And I was rapidly running out of time.

Guards, their movements swift and practiced, began to surround us, their restraints binding our wrists before we could mount any meaningful resistance. Franny appeared seconds later, her grip like steel as she dragged a struggling Lumina forward. Lumina’s small face was pale with fear, her arms clutching Nutmeg so tightly that I feared the poor creature’s bones would splinter.

“Sissy!” Lumina cried out, her voice choked with terror.

Instinct took over. I took a step forward, a protective surge of adrenaline coursing through me. Captain Noah’s hand flashed out, the edge of a gleaming blade menacingly close to Lumina’s face. A silent, brutal warning. If I moved, if I fought back now, they wouldn’t just subdue me. They would end this, swiftly and decisively, before I even had a chance to truly fight.

“Volkov. I have a great many questions for you,” Dad said, his voice surprisingly steady despite his weakened state, his gaze fixed on the man who had orchestrated his imprisonment. “But the primary one is…how is your son still alive?”

The cold, impassive look on both Noah and Volkov’s faces flickered, turning subtly darker, a hint of something akin to anger or perhaps…pain? – crossing their features at Dad’s unexpected question.

“He’s not,” Noah answered, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. “Jaden Volkov has been dead for almost ten years now.”

Hearing that stark pronouncement, Aiden didn’t react. He remained slumped against the cold steel wall, his body unnervingly still, his expression blank. He was like a broken doll, all the vibrant energy and infuriating wit drained away. It was almost as if the person I had come to know so intimately had been replaced by a lifeless doppelganger.

“Artificially Inseminated Designer Newborn. That is Aiden,” Volkov continued, his gaze flicking dismissively towards the unmoving boy. “This…clone…is nothing more than a failed experiment. A regrettable investment.”

Volkov's words echoed in my mind like a slow-building earthquake, shaking everything I thought I knew.

Volkov’s son.

Aiden—the reckless genius, the boy who swore up and down that nothing in this world could scare him—was a clone. Not even a person in Volkov’s eyes. Just an experiment that failed. I felt sick.

Aiden – the reckless genius, the boy who had sworn up and down that nothing in this forsaken world could truly scare him – was a clone. Not even a person in Volkov’s eyes. Just a discarded experiment, a scientific miscalculation. A wave of nausea washed over me, a sickening blend of disbelief and horror. But I couldn’t afford to be stunned, to succumb to the shock.

I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to take another step forward despite the overwhelming tension that tightened like a vise around my ribs. “You talk like this is all inevitable,” I spat, my voice trembling with barely suppressed fury. “Like you’ve already won.”

Volkov barely spared me a condescending glance, his attention already drifting. “I have.”

His voice was calm, utterly certain, as if the weight of his declaration was nothing more than an acknowledgment of a pre-existing reality. As if the world had already bent to his will, patiently awaiting his final, decisive command to collapse into his meticulously crafted design.

“If you had everything so perfectly under control,” I hissed, my voice low and venomous, “why all the paranoia? Why was my Dad locked up like an animal? Why is my little sister being held hostage?”

Volkov’s expression flickered then, a fleeting shift that wasn’t anger, wasn’t even genuine emotion, but something akin to mild, detached amusement, as if observing an interesting, if ultimately futile, display.

“You remind me of my wife,” he murmured, his gaze distant, lost in a memory I couldn’t fathom. “She had conviction, too. She believed, with a fierce, unwavering certainty, that things could be undone. That battles, even those seemingly lost, could still be fought.”

Something shifted in his tone, a subtle undercurrent of something…darker.

“But she was wrong,” he said simply, his voice flat and devoid of warmth. “Faith…killed her.”

My breath hitched.

Aiden, still slumped against the wall, exhaled sharply. “You keep saying that,” he muttered, his voice strained from the pain burning through him. “As if belief alone murdered her. But it wasn’t faith, was it?”

Volkov finally turned to look at him.

“It was people.”

Aiden’s breath was shallow, but his eyes were sharp. Challenging. Volkov studied him for a moment—almost curiously, as if confirming something within himself. Then, with no hesitation, he raised his hand—and lowered it. Diego lifted his gun. I reacted before I could think. A gunshot ripped through the tense silence.

Aiden’s body jolted, his breath hitching. Blood pooled against the steel floor. He gasped, gripping his side, but he didn’t collapse. The battle suit had softened the damage—but not enough. My vision blurred with fury.

“You—”

Volkov exhaled, bored. Unbothered. “He was a failure,” he muttered.

Not ‘he was my son.’ Not ‘he was important.’ Just a failure. Something violent built in my chest, something uncontrollable, but before I could lash out, Volkov turned away.

“Noah,” he commanded smoothly.

Captain Noah stepped forward, his posture unwavering, commanding, as if he’d been waiting for this moment. Volkov didn’t spare another glance at Aiden, didn’t acknowledge him, didn’t even check if he was still alive. He was already done here. Without a word, he turned and left. Noah followed. Diego followed. And Franny disappeared into the shadows with Lumina still in her grasp.

I stood frozen in the suffocating silence of Zone E, my father weak beside me, Aiden slumped against the wall, bleeding, and my sister—my little sister—gone.