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In the operating room, Miles Upsher was strapped to the surgical chair with four thick leather belts cinched around his wrists and ankles. He couldn't move an inch.
He had slipped into this mental hospital chasing the kind of explosive story that would make his career. Instead he'd barely made it past the outer walls before the monsters spotted him. He'd fought his way free of their pursuit only to get turned around on the sub-level and stumble straight into the arms of the freak with the giant scissors.
Snip— snip—
The Scissors Man stood over him, slowly opening and closing the huge shears, bringing the cold steel closer to Miles' shaking fingers.
"FUCK! Get away from me! Stay the hell back!"
Miles thrashed against the restraints. The chair groaned and rattled. When the blades actually touched his skin he lost it completely, screaming until his voice cracked and echoed off the empty walls.
Right before the shears could close—
BANG!
The heavy steel door exploded inward off its hinges.
Miles felt the wind of it. Before his brain could catch up, the Scissors Man who had been looming over him was suddenly lifted clean off the floor by the throat. A man in a dark red coat held him up one-handed like he weighed nothing.
The shears hit the tile with a clatter. The Scissors Man kicked and clawed, trying to break free.
Crack.
Bone snapped loud and final. The body jerked once, then went limp, arms and legs swinging like a broken puppet.
"Dead?"
Miles swallowed, voice hoarse. "You… who the fuck are you?"
Rapid footsteps pounded down the corridor outside.
Luca came skidding through the doorway, bent over and gasping. "Jesus— why'd you take off like that? Some of us still have to breathe like normal people."
He straightened up, took one look at the room, and froze.
Miles, still tied down, spotted the camera hanging around Luca's neck. "You got the anonymous email too? Here digging into the illegal experiments?"
Luca broke into a grin. "Hey, colleague. Guess this place is prime real estate for scoops."
He glanced around, spotted the second camera sitting on a nearby table. "I'm taking the memory card. Call it payment for the rescue."
He strolled over, popped the card out with smooth fingers, and held it up so Miles could see it.
Miles clenched his jaw so hard his teeth hurt. That footage was his—shot while running for his life the entire way. Now this smug bastard was just taking it.
He opened his mouth to rip into him, but one glance at the silver-haired man standing there made the words die. He'd just watched that same guy snap a monster's neck with one hand. No story was worth dying over.
Soren stepped forward and started unbuckling the straps. "How much do you actually know about this place?"
Miles didn't dare bullshit. He shot one last pained look at his stolen camera before answering. "The email had a partial map and some experiment logs attached."
He nodded toward the bodies scattered across the outer hall. "This whole sub-level used to be for the early-stage human modification work. Stitching, basic implants, that kind of thing."
"Later they moved everything deeper for a project called Valried. The logs said it was a major breakthrough."
"Valried?"
Soren repeated the word, flat. "What is it?"
"Some kind of substance they were pulling out of people? I don't know the details."
Miles shook his head. "All the real reports got moved out years ago. I only found scraps by accident."
"Keep talking."
Soren nodded.
"Once Valried succeeded, the entire sub-level got written off. They just walked away from it."
Miles kept going, voice low. "The higher-ups wanted to erase every trace. They killed everyone left on this floor—patients, low-level techs, anyone who wasn't worth moving. Made it look like a containment breach so nobody would ask questions."
Soren's brow tightened. "They weren't worried about the rest of the staff losing morale?"
Luca snorted from the side. "These places run on strict compartmentalization. Each level has its own boss. You sign papers when you start that say you can't leave for years. Most of them never even know what's happening two floors down."
Miles nodded. "Officially it was just a 'serious leak incident.'"
Soren took that in, then asked the only question that mattered. "How do we get lower?"
Luca threw his hands up. "Seriously? We're supposed to be working together and you're not even asking me?"
Soren gave him a single flat look. Luca had only reached this floor on his last trip. Anything deeper would be pure guesswork and bullshit.
Luca rubbed the back of his neck and shut up.
Miles gave a tired smile and pointed toward the corridor. "Only way down to the real core is a dedicated elevator platform. Big enough to land a helicopter on."
He sighed. "But the power was cut from below a long time ago. We can't start it."
Soren raised an eyebrow.
Another blackout.
"Take me there."
He clapped Miles on the shoulder, calm as ever.
The three of them followed Miles through the sub-level until they reached the elevator shaft.
It was a massive circular platform, easily wide enough for a helicopter to set down. No guardrails. Just open air on every side.
Soren walked to the edge and looked straight down. The shaft dropped into absolute darkness, like staring into the mouth of a well that never ended.
Miles leaned over for half a second, then jerked back, face pale. "That's insane. Maybe we should search this floor for fuse boxes or a generator? Try to get the power back on?"
Luca threw an arm around Miles' shoulders like they were old drinking buddies. "Fuses and wires are for amateurs. With this guy here we don't need any of that."
He shot Soren a grin. "Right?"
Miles blinked, confused. "What are you—"
He never finished the sentence.
Soren grabbed Luca with one hand and Miles' belt with the other, then stepped off the edge.
"AAAAAHHH!"
"WHOOO-HOO!"
Wind screamed past them.
Soren kicked off the walls in short, controlled bursts, using exposed rebar and support beams to bleed off speed. The drop that should have killed them turned into a controlled descent.
THUD.
He landed at the bottom amid thick bundles of cable and metal scaffolding, then dropped both men onto the concrete like they were luggage.
A blinding white spotlight suddenly stabbed down from above, pinning them in its glare.
Miles and Luca threw their arms up, eyes watering.
Luca squinted through the light, saw movement, and his face went white. He yanked the grappling hook gun from his belt, fired it straight up with a sharp thwack, and was yanked into the air.
"Soren, you got this! I'll get high ground and cover you!"
The words were still hanging in the air when he vanished upward.
The second he cleared the floor—
Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat—
Dozens of blue muzzle flashes erupted from the blinding light, filling the shaft with automatic gunfire.