Rain had returned to Northvale by dawn — soft, persistent, like the city itself whispering secrets it wasn't ready to share. Frank Miller stood by the window of their rented flat, cigarette smoke curling through the gray light, eyes tracing the skyline that hid more corruption than glass.

Behind him, Zoey zipped up a duffel bag of gear, her voice breaking the quiet."Two hours to reach the coordinates. If the data's right, Lab Zero should be under the old Northvale Industrial Zone."

Frank didn't turn. "Coordinates don't lie. People do."

Zoey exhaled softly, knowing the jab wasn't just about the mission.

The Road to the Unknown

They drove in silence. Northvale's streets blurred past — wet asphalt, flickering billboards, the occasional drone whirring overhead. The hum of the engine filled the car like static between two uneasy allies.

Halfway there, Zoey spoke, eyes on the road. "You've been quiet since last night."

Frank smirked faintly. "Thinking."

"About her?"

"About it," he corrected. "Project Red Coat. The file says they rebuilt soldiers — mercenaries, operatives — turned them into something else. Evelyn wasn't just revived, she was redesigned."

Zoey tightened her grip on the wheel. "And you think the same happened to you?"

"I don't think," Frank said, lighting another cigarette. "I know."

The lighter's flame briefly illuminated the scars on his wrist — faint metallic lines, pulsing under the skin like microcircuits.

Zoey noticed but didn't comment.

The Descent

The industrial zone loomed ahead — a maze of rusted silos, cranes, and derelict warehouses. Fog pooled in the hollows, swallowing sound.

They parked behind a collapsed freight container. Frank checked his weapon and glanced at Zoey. "No heroics. In and out. We find what's inside, copy the data, burn the rest."

She nodded, loading her pistol. "Got it."

They moved quickly, flashlights slicing through the dark. A faint hum led them to a rust-streaked service elevator buried under scaffolding. The keypad blinked red.

"Encrypted," Zoey muttered, crouching beside it. "Old Vertex tech, six-digit bypass."

Frank knelt next to her, pulling a compact decryption tool from his vest. "Give me thirty seconds."

The device whirred, lights flickering across its display. Zoey stole a glance at him — the calm, methodical focus, the precision of his movements. Even when surrounded by shadows, Frank looked like he belonged in them.

The lock clicked green.

"Access granted," Frank said.

The elevator shuddered, then began its descent — slow, grinding, deep underground.

The Lab Beneath

When the doors opened, cold air swept out — sterile, electric, heavy with disinfectant and dust.

Rows of empty cryo-pods lined the corridor, each labeled PROJECT RED COAT — Phase I through VIII. The pods were shattered from the inside.

Zoey's voice was a whisper. "They escaped."

Frank's gaze swept across the wreckage. "No. They were released."

They entered the main chamber. Massive servers glowed faint blue, cables snaking like veins across the floor. In the center stood a glass tank — empty now — with dried residue clinging to its sides.

A terminal beside it flickered weakly. Zoey brushed dust off the screen and powered it up. Lines of code scrolled fast, then stabilized into a single prompt:

> Authorization Required: Miller, F.

Zoey blinked. "It's keyed to you."

Frank hesitated. "Step back."

He placed his palm on the biometric pad. The system scanned, beeped twice, then unlocked. The screen changed — video files, logs, research reports. He opened the latest one.

Dr. Kessel, Vertex's former lead scientist, appeared in a grainy clip.

"Subject Miller: Retention 97.3%. Neural cohesion stable. Emotional memory intact — unpredictable variable. Subject Cross: Full synchronization achieved. Deployed as primary field operative. Objective — retrieval of Prototype Data Core, Phase Zero."

Zoey frowned. "Prototype Data Core? You mean—"

"The chip," Frank finished.

On screen, the doctor continued,

"If both subjects regain prior attachments, initiate Containment Protocol. Both are assets — not people."

Frank's jaw clenched. He slammed a fist against the console. "They built us, used us, and erased us."

Zoey's voice softened. "Frank…"

He turned away, pacing. "All this time I thought I was running from my past. Turns out I was my past."

The Interference

Suddenly, the lights flickered. The monitors glitched. A distorted voice crackled through the speakers.

"You shouldn't have come here, Frank."

Zoey spun around. "That's her."

Frank's hand tightened on his pistol. "Evelyn."

The voice continued — calm, cold, familiar.

"You're trespassing in a graveyard. Leave before you join the rest of them."

He stepped forward, glaring at the cameras. "Then come tell me that in person."

A low chuckle echoed through the room.

"Still the same arrogance they installed in you. Don't make me prove I'm better."

The security shutters sealed around them with a metallic clang. Alarms blared. Red lights bathed the lab in pulses of warning.

Zoey shouted, "She's locking us in!"

Frank shot the nearest panel, sparks flying. "Then we make our own exit."

They sprinted through a corridor as metal doors slammed one after another behind them. Zoey hacked a side terminal mid-run, rerouting the power grid. "I can buy us thirty seconds before backup systems kick in!"

"That's all I need."

Frank kicked open a maintenance hatch and climbed into a narrow ventilation shaft, pulling Zoey after him. Below, footsteps echoed — mechanical, synchronized.

"Drones," Zoey hissed. "Combat models."

Frank reloaded calmly. "Good. Haven't stretched my aim in a while."

The Firefight

They burst from the vent into a secondary lab corridor — now half-lit and trembling from the sirens. The first drone rounded the corner, its red optics flaring. Frank fired — two precise shots. The machine dropped.

Zoey took cover, pulling a flash grenade from her vest. "Incoming, two more!"

"Throw it!"

The grenade went off, filling the hall with light and static. Frank charged through the smoke, dispatching the drones with clinical precision — knees, sensors, final core shot.

Zoey caught her breath. "You're enjoying this."

Frank gave a grim smirk. "Little nostalgia never hurts."

As the smoke cleared, they reached a sealed vault door marked V-LAB ZERO – CORE ACCESS.

Zoey's eyes widened. "That's it."

Frank typed rapidly on the keypad. "And she knows we're coming."

The Face Behind the Code

The door opened with a hiss. Inside was a control chamber — circular, dim, filled with holo-screens projecting maps, DNA sequences, and surveillance feeds.

At the center stood a single hologram — Evelyn Cross.

Her face flickered, half-digital, half-human. The red coat shimmered behind her like a ghost.

"You just don't quit, do you?" she said.

Frank holstered his gun slowly. "You owe me answers."

"You already have them. You died. They brought you back. And now you're trying to destroy the only system keeping you alive."

Zoey stepped forward. "If this system runs on lies, it doesn't deserve to exist."

Evelyn's eyes turned toward her. "And yet you were part of it."

Zoey froze, guilt flashing across her face. "That was different—"

"Was it?" Evelyn's voice sharpened. "You leaked intel. You made deals. You think you're clean because you feel bad about it now?"

Frank interrupted, stepping between them. "Enough. You want me, you've got me. But I'm ending this."

Evelyn tilted her head. "End what, Frank? The mission? The illusion? Or yourself?"

He hesitated — the question cutting deeper than it should.

Her voice softened.

"They can't control what they don't understand. And they don't understand us anymore. Walk away before they fix that."

Frank shook his head. "You had your chance to walk away. I'm taking mine."

He fired — three shots straight into the console. Sparks erupted. The hologram flickered, Evelyn's image distorting before vanishing entirely.

Zoey stared at him. "Was that smart?"

Frank's eyes stayed on the empty space where Evelyn had stood. "No. But it was necessary."

The Escape

They fled as alarms screamed again. Smoke and static filled the corridors. The lab's structure groaned as if coming apart.

Zoey yelled over the noise, "We can't go back the way we came!"

"There's a maintenance shaft near the east wing!" Frank shouted. "Move!"

They sprinted down a collapsing passage, debris raining around them. A burst pipe showered them in freezing mist as they ducked through the final hatch.

The elevator shaft yawned above — dark and endless. Frank clipped a grappling hook and looked back at Zoey. "After you."

She hesitated, meeting his eyes. "Frank… if Evelyn's still alive—"

"She's not the enemy anymore," he said. "The people who made her are."

The Surface

They emerged into the gray light of dawn, the ruins of the industrial yard stretching around them. Both were drenched, bruised, but alive.

Zoey collapsed against the wall, breathing hard. "Next time, let's not piss off an undead sniper and a ghost lab in the same day."

Frank chuckled dryly, lighting a cigarette with shaking hands. "Noted."

She looked at him. "What now?"

He stared toward the distant skyline. "We go after whoever signed the project logs. The name hidden behind every file."

Zoey frowned. "Who?"

Frank handed her the decrypted chip. The name flashed on the screen — GENERAL HARRISON COLE.

Zoey's voice dropped. "He's from the Defense Command."

Frank's expression hardened. "He's the one who made us."

They stood in silence as rain began to fall again — soft, relentless.

Frank crushed his cigarette underfoot and muttered, "Time to finish what they started."

Zoey met his eyes. "Together this time?"

He gave a faint nod. "Together."

The storm rolled over Northvale, lightning flashing against the skyline — as if the city itself was bracing for the next war.

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