The Fire at the End

The facility was waiting for her.

Jessica could feel it now, pressing in at the edges of her consciousness, like a presence that had always been there, just beyond the periphery of her sight. The weight of it settled against her ribs, heavy and suffocating. She hadn’t escaped this place. She had simply been lost.

Leanna and Olivia moved ahead, weapons drawn, scanning the corridor as they approached the final terminal. The exit was close—but so was the choice.

Whitaker, bruised and weary, dragged himself alongside them. He wasn’t pleading yet. But she could feel the desperation radiating off him. Jessica knew what was coming. And she already knew what she had to do.

---

Olivia crouched beside the control panel, fingers skimming across the flickering screen. “This is it.” She hesitated. “The Lazarus Directive is still active. If we trigger it—”

“The entire facility is wiped,” Leanna finished.

Whitaker exhaled, shaking his head. “This is madness.”

Jessica ignored him. Her hands were steady as she approached the console, but inside, she was crumbling. The temptation burned in her chest—the need to know, the need to be certain. She could find the truth here. She could see what she was before they lost control of her.

But at what cost?

She had made a promise. She had sworn she would burn everything to the ground. Jessica’s breath came slow, controlled. She wasn’t Jason anymore. She wasn’t LZ-04. She wasn’t Vanguard’s property. She was Jessica Sanchez. And that had to be enough.

Her fingers hovered over the terminal.

Whitaker’s voice cut through the silence, sharp and desperate. “You’re making a mistake. You don’t understand. If you erase this place, you erase yourself.”

Jessica didn’t look at him. “Good.”

He took a step forward, his voice lowering, his tone softer. Manipulative. “Jessica, listen to me. You think this doesn’t matter? You think you can just walk away from what you are?”

Jessica clenched her jaw. Don’t listen. Don’t let it in.

“You think you’re free,” Whitaker continued, his voice like a knife sliding between ribs. “You’re not. You never were. The moment they lost control of you, they started over. They didn’t need you anymore. They built another.”

Jessica’s stomach dropped. But she didn’t turn. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“You’re lying.”

Whitaker laughed. It was a bitter, broken sound. “Am I?”

Jessica squeezed her eyes shut, Sam’s words echoing in her mind. “You are what you choose to be.”

She wasn’t a project. She wasn’t a ghost. She wasn’t something to be rebuilt. She was real. Her life with Leanna, Olivia, Hannah, Kevin, Ryan (rest his soul), and Sam was real. And that was all that mattered.

Jessica opened her eyes, and pressed the switch. A blue pulse arced across the console, as if the machine recognized her—not as a subject, but as its executioner.

---

The system responded immediately. Alarms blared. The power surged. The Lazarus Directive was in motion.

Whitaker’s face twisted with fury. “You fool—”

He wasn’t a villain. He was the past, a mirror with no reflection left to give.

She pulled the trigger. The report echoed through the chamber. Whitaker staggered back, blood blooming against his chest. He gasped, eyes wide, a stunned, disbelieving sound leaving his lips. Jessica met his gaze.

“You lost,” she said.

Whitaker fell.

Jessica didn’t watch him hit the ground. Instead, she turned and ran.

---

The walls of the facility groaned, metal shearing as the self-destruct sequence engaged. Olivia was already sprinting for the exit, Leanna beside her, Jessica just behind. They didn’t stop.

They didn’t look back.

Behind them, the entire structure began to collapse. Everything Vanguard had built here—erased. Every secret they had tried to keep—burned. Every version of her—destroyed. Jessica didn’t hesitate. She ran.

---

The three of them emerged into the cold, open air as the last of the facility collapsed into itself. Leanna bent over, catching her breath, hands on her knees. Olivia turned, eyes wide, watching the ruins smolder.

Jessica stood still. Whitaker was gone. The truth was gone. There was no going back now.

Olivia exhaled, shaking her head. “That was the story of a lifetime.”

Jessica didn’t answer. She reached into her coat pocket. There, nestled in the fabric, was the wooden pawn. She turned it over in her palm. A message. A warning. And a promise. Mr. Black wasn’t finished with her yet.