"The guillotine is the ultimate expression of Law, and its name is vengeance; it is not neutral, nor does it allow us to remain neutral." - Victor Hugo (Les Misérables)

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The corridor ahead was suffocating in its stillness.

Steel-lined walls stretched endlessly into dimness, shadows pooling in corners where the flickering overhead lights failed to reach. The hum of distant machinery pulsed like the heartbeat of a dying beast, low and irregular. Pipes ran along the ceiling like veins, hissing faintly. A putrid, acidic stench clung to the air—blood, chemicals, and even rot.

It clawed its way into their lungs, burned behind their eyes.

Sera walked at the front, her movements precise and silent, her heterochromia eyes scanning every detail. Beside her, Laura kept pace, gun in hand, jaw tight. The aftershock of what they had just seen—the victims in the previous room, still hung in the air like thick smog.

"Should we even be leaving Zest behind back there?" Laura asked, her voice low, eyes flickering behind them as if expecting that monster of a man from the hit squad to reappear.

"He'll be fine. He always is," Sera replied grimly, her voice steady but clipped. "No matter what stands in his way, Zest always makes it through." She paused, and her gaze cut to Laura, something deeper flickering behind those mismatched eyes. "Besides… If that man is really who I think he is, then Zest is the only one who can face him. The last survivor. The last remnant of the hunters' hit squad."

Laura blinked, startled. "You mentioned something like that earlier."

"Zest was one of them," Sera murmured, her voice a shadow of itself. "Once. Their youngest captain. Their best."

A tremor went through Laura. "You're serious?"

"He wiped them all out. In one night," Sera said. "And nearly crippled the hunters for good. The underground whispers his name like a ghost story. Even now, they don't know how he did it. Just that he vanished after."

Laura exhaled shakily, her fingers tightening around the grip of her weapon. "So that's why he's so fast… Why he fights like…like he was trained to kill Gifted."

"He was," Sera said bitterly. "But Zest never belonged to them. They trained him, yes, but I'd bet everything I have they were the ones who took everything from him in the first place. His parents. His home. Everything. They turned him into a blade, and he broke from their grasp and turned it on them."

There was silence for a moment. Then Laura spoke, more softly this time. "Back when Blade was still around, I heard rumours. About a Normal who could take on Gifted like it was nothing. Even the high class ones. Someone who could even hold his own against you."

Sera gave a quiet, humourless chuckle. "He's the only one who's ever pushed me to my limit. Zest is chaos in human form, but it's controlled chaos. I don't know why he ended up at Elvryn, but from what I know, he was on the run from the hunters for months at that time. And considering what he did, it's no surprise. And then… He became one of us. It doesn't matter what his background is. Like all of us back in Blade, Zest was finding a place to belong. And he did. He carved out a place for himself. Earned his reputation. The trust of the underground. Of Blade. Even now, with Blade gone, he's still one of us. He always will be."

The air grew heavier the further they went. The hum of machinery gave way to silence, and the flickering lights overhead finally stilled into darkness.

And with that darkness came dread.

Laura's voice, when she finally spoke, was a whisper. "It's hard to believe the hunters were once stronger than they are now. I don't even want to know what they used to be like if they were stronger before."

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"They were monsters wearing uniforms," Sera said darkly. "They still are. But back then… They were a hydra. You cut one head off, three more grew. It was Zest who scorched the whole body. That's the only reason the Abyss and the underground had a chance to rise at all."

She fell silent then, her expression hardening as they reached the end of the corridor.

Before them stood a solid steel door—manual, aged, and scarred. Rust kissed its hinges. There was no digital lock. No panel. Just a reinforced handle, crusted with age and dust. As if whatever was behind it wasn't meant to be opened often… Or ever.

Laura tapped her comm. "Raul? We've reached a dead end. Steel door. No lock."

A moment passed, then Raul's voice filtered through the line, tense but steady. "That's the end of the line, as far as I can tell. Be careful."

Sera and Laura exchanged a look—silent communication honed by countless missions. Guns drawn, fingers on triggers, they moved as one.

Sera grasped the handle, wrenched it open with a metallic screech that seemed to echo down the corridor like a scream. The room beyond was dimly lit, fluorescent lights flickering overhead. The chill of refrigerated air brushed past them, and the unmistakable scent of antiseptic and iron assaulted their senses.

At first glance, it looked almost mundane.

A lab.

Tables lined with scattered documents. Cracked beakers. Test tubes stained crimson. Tablets and datapads long since gone cold. Dust floated lazily in the air like falling ash.

And then, on the nearest table, Sera froze.

There, amidst the clutter, was a plastic blister pack of pills. They were unmistakable.

Blood-red capsules. Matte finish. Six to a strip.

Laura's eyes widened. "Isn't that…?"

"Blue Pandora," Sera whispered. Her voice trembled. "But it's not blue. It's…red."

Laura swallowed hard. "But I thought the Abyss destroyed every last batch."

"They did." Sera stepped forward, her hand shaking as she picked up the strip. "They were supposed to. We swore to never let this stuff resurface again."

Her stomach turned. The plastic crackled in her grasp.

Blue Pandora had been the darkest sin of the underground—a synthetic drug designed to forcibly awaken latent Gifts… Or kill the user trying. And with Normals, give them inhumane strength and abilities. For a time. Addictive. Dangerous. Torturous. Dozens died in pursuit of that power. Sera had buried friends over it. Enemies too.

But red… Red meant something new. Something worse.

"Why is it here?" Sera choked. "This place… It's not just an experimental site. It's a graveyard."

There was a sound.

Low. Mechanical. A slow, hydraulic hiss from the far side of the room.

Laura tensed. Her gun snapped up. Sera stuffed the pills into her pouch with trembling fingers, exchanging a look with Laura.

There was a curtained area at the end of the lab, faded and yellowed with age. The fabric was streaked with something brown. Dried blood? Rust?

Their footsteps slowed. Careful and precise.

Sera reached out, her hand brushing the curtain aside.

And froze.

On a medical bed, half-reclined, surrounded by machines, lay a man—emaciated and pallid. Tubes ran from his arms and neck, feeding into humming machines. One screen displayed a rhythmic pulse of brain activity. Another drained blood through a slow-dripping siphon.

But that wasn't what made her world tilt.

"KARL!" Sera's scream tore from her throat before she realised it, a raw and wounded sound. She stumbled forward, her gun forgotten, falling to her knees beside the bed.

Laura's breath caught in her throat. "Karl…?" She recognised the name that Sera spoke. Zest and Sera mentioned him when they were making their way to Veridale. The man who had raised Sera and trained her. And also trained the rest of Blade. "That's Karl?"

It was him.

The spiky silver hair—though dulled now, hanging limp. The honey-brown eyes, glazed and half-open. The crimson vest, stained now, clinging to a skeletal frame. This man… This shell…had once been Karl Myrick. Blade's iron spine.

The man who raised them. Who trained them. Who bled and fought and kept them alive. Missing for nearly a year. Presumed dead.

Sera's hands shook as she reached for the tubes. "I… I have to get him out of this," she muttered. Her voice cracked. "I have to… Laura, help me…"

But Laura had frozen too. "There's so many wires. And that thing…" She pointed to the device on his head, a crown of metal and glass feeding into the machines, "If we remove it wrong, it could kill him."

They hesitated.

Machines beeped steadily. The room was silent save for the cold whisper of Karl's laboured breathing.

Then Laura turned, her eyes locking onto a main console at the side. "This must control everything." She sprinted to it, fingers flying across the manual switches. "If we shut off the systems all at once, it might trigger a failsafe. But if we power them down sequentially…"

"Do it," Sera said.

One by one, Laura flipped the switches.

The whine of the machines dulled. Lights on the devices dimmed.

And then, silence.

Sera reached out and shook him gently. "Karl… It's me. It's Sera."

A flicker.

He blinked blearily, as though looking through fog. His mouth moved slowly, painfully. "…Sera…?"

Tears welled in her eyes.

"We're getting you out of here," Sera whispered fiercely, wrapping one of his arms around her shoulders. She stumbled as she stood, gritting her teeth. He was taller and heavier, but she refused to leave him behind.

Laura was already reaching into her satchel, pulling out the explosives they had prepared. Cylindrical devices packed with a concentrated charge—enough to bring the facility down.

She began planting them quickly—at structural points, beneath lab tables, along the walls. "Raul," she said, pressing her comms, "Raul, can you hear me?"

There was crackling over the comms. Then Raul's voice, "Yeah. What's happening?"

"Tell everyone," Laura said. "We're clearing out. Whatever they're doing, whoever they're fighting… They have to be out of here in thirty minutes. This place is going down."

"Understood," Raul replied grimly.

Sera, with Karl leaning against her, looked down at the shell of the man who had raised her. The bloodied machines. The red Pandora. The files that would haunt them forever.

The hunters weren't just hunting anymore.

They were dissecting.

They were experimenting.

They were building weapons.

And they didn't see the Gifted as people. They never had.

She looked at Laura, her voice shaking. "We burn it all."

Laura nodded, her eyes hard. "Every last trace."

And together, with the weight of memory and vengeance pressing down like gravity, they walked out.

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