Rain hammered against the windshield as Zoey and I tore down the empty stretch of highway that led north out of Northvale. The GPS had no record of this road — just gray static on the map. The Citadel wasn't supposed to exist.

I drove with one hand on the wheel, the other tapping the cracked screen of Ricky's old data tablet. "There," I muttered. "Elevation drop of six meters just past Sector 13. That's an entrance."

Zoey leaned forward, her hair tied back, eyes tracing the dark horizon. "Are you sure this is it? Looks like the end of the world."

"Exactly," I said. "That's how they hide a facility like this — bury it where even the satellites stopped caring."

The car hit a bump hard enough to jolt us both. We were getting close. The fog was thicker here, swirling like smoke from a burning city. And underneath it, the faint outline of a collapsed hangar — rusted steel, half-eaten by vines.

I killed the engine. The world went silent except for the rain and the hiss of the wind.

We slipped out of the car and crossed the overgrown tarmac. Every step sank slightly into the mud. My flashlight beam caught something metallic beneath a pile of debris — a hydraulic door panel, the kind used in old defense bunkers.

Zoey crouched beside me. "You think this still works?"

I brushed the grime away and smiled faintly. "There's only one way to find out."

Using my multitool, I pried open the control hatch and exposed a set of corroded wires. Years of experience in dismantling bombs and hacking security systems paid off — I could see the circuit pattern instantly. Two cross-links, one failsafe. A six-digit manual override.

"Ricky always used the same pattern," I said, connecting the wires. "Reversed binary. If this was built under his watch—"

A faint hum answered me. Then, with a hiss and a shudder, the hydraulic door began to open, revealing a black descent into the earth.

Zoey stepped back, eyes wide. "You've got to be kidding. It still works."

"Dead men leave working traps," I muttered, and grabbed my gun. "Let's go."

The elevator shaft dropped deep — maybe thirty stories underground. The air grew colder the further we descended. When the doors opened, the stale metallic scent of an old facility hit us hard.

Fluorescent lights flickered weakly, half the panels shattered. The walls were a mix of concrete and armored glass, and through them I could see dark shapes floating in liquid — pods. Dozens of them, maybe hundreds, lining both sides of the corridor.

Zoey froze beside me. "Frank…"

I walked closer to the nearest one. A pale figure was suspended inside, hooked to wires and tubes. The pod's label read: SUBJECT 004 — ZOE PARKER [DECOMMISSIONED]

Zoey whispered, "That's me."

I turned to her. "No. That's what they built before you."

She pressed a trembling hand to the glass. The face inside looked almost identical — same eyes, same features, only lifeless. "I'm… a copy?"

"Not just a copy," I said quietly. "You're the one that worked. The others didn't."

Her breathing quickened, but she didn't move. I couldn't blame her — it's one thing to lose trust in people; it's another to lose trust in your own existence.

We moved deeper into the hallway until we reached a circular chamber humming with energy. A massive server core pulsed at its center, lights chasing one another in patterns too precise to be random.

"This is it," I said. "The Citadel's brain."

I pulled the decrypted Vertex chip from my pocket and slotted it into a port on the main console. The monitor flared to life, spitting out endless lines of encrypted data.

Zoey leaned in beside me. "What are we looking for?"

"Proof. Something that connects Vertex to the government."

As the screen scrolled, fragments of text took shape — reports, videos, log entries. The words PROJECT REBIRTH appeared again and again.

Each entry described a different subject: enhanced reflexes, controlled loyalty responses, synthetic memory grafting. Then I found my own file.

SUBJECT 002 – FRANK MILLERSTATUS: ACTIVERETENTION: 97.3%NOTES: SUBJECT SHOWS SIGNS OF EMOTIONAL DEVIATION.RECOMMENDED OBSERVATION. TERMINATION IF NECESSARY.

My throat tightened. "Termination… if necessary."

Zoey's voice was soft. "Frank, this… this means they can still control you."

"Not anymore," I said, shutting the file. "Not after what we've done."

But the next entry stopped me cold.

SUBJECT 003 — EVELYN CROSSSTATUS: ACTIVECURRENT ROLE: FIELD AGENT – OVERSIGHT PROTOCOL.

Zoey frowned. "Evelyn Cross. That's her, isn't it?"

"Yeah," I said. "She was my fiancée. They brought her back too."

I didn't need to look at Zoey to feel her eyes on me.

Before I could process it, every light in the chamber flickered red. The screens glitched, and then a voice — cold, synthetic, female — filled the room.

"Welcome back, Subject 002."

Zoey jumped. "What the hell—?"

I raised my gun toward the ceiling speakers. "Show yourself."

The voice laughed — calm, artificial, like a recording of human empathy. "You stand in your birthplace. You should be grateful."

"What is this?" I demanded.

"The Citadel," it replied. "You were reborn here. You are property of the Rebirth Directive."

Zoey shouted, "We're not property!"

The voice ignored her. "You have disobeyed primary command protocols. Self-awareness exceeds threshold. Countermeasure engaged."

From the shadows, mechanical whirs erupted. The walls opened, releasing sleek black drones armed with mounted rifles.

I shoved Zoey toward cover. "Get down!"

Bullets ripped through the consoles. Sparks flew. I fired back, hitting one drone square in its optical sensor. It burst in a shower of light.

Zoey crouched beside another terminal, typing furiously. "If I can jam their sensors, we might have a window!"

"Do it fast!"

The next few minutes were chaos — gunfire echoing through metal corridors, alarms wailing. I moved between pillars, every shot precise, calculated. When the last drone dropped, the room fell silent again except for our heavy breathing.

Zoey slumped against a terminal. "You're insane, you know that?"

I reloaded. "And yet here we are."

We regrouped at the console. Zoey's fingers danced over the keys, pulling up fragments of data still intact. "Frank, look — this directory's locked behind a triple firewall."

"Then we break it."

She gave me a sideways look. "You know how long that takes?"

"Guess we'll find out."

Working together, we cracked through two of the encryption layers. The third one collapsed on its own — a trapdoor opening unexpectedly.

The screen blinked, revealing a hidden document labeled SUBJECT 001 — FOUNDER.

Zoey whispered, "The founder of Project Rebirth…"

I opened it. A face appeared — grainy, but unmistakable.

Colonel Rickleton.

My mentor. The man who'd recruited me. The one I thought had died years ago.

Zoey stared. "He's alive."

I could barely breathe. "He didn't just survive… he started all of this."

A small video file played automatically — Ricky sitting in a dark room, speaking into the camera.

"Rebirth is not about saving lives. It's about saving control. Miller is the key. When he remembers who he was — the system will evolve."

Zoey turned to me. "He planned this from the beginning. You weren't a soldier to him. You were a switch."

I clenched my fists. "Then it's time to shut him off."

A loud metallic groan shook the floor beneath us. Warning lights strobed red again — Facility self-destruct initiated.

"Zoey, grab the drives!" I shouted.

We ripped out every chip we could carry and sprinted down the corridor. Explosions ripped through the walls, fire chasing us like a storm.

A collapsing ceiling beam crashed down between us, nearly cutting us off. Zoey screamed, stumbling back, and I leaped over the debris, pulling her through.

"Come on!" I yelled.

We burst into the elevator chamber. The platform had lost power, so I grabbed the emergency crank, forcing it upward by sheer will and muscle. The entire structure shook, concrete raining down.

When the doors opened at ground level, I dragged Zoey out. Behind us, the Citadel imploded — a wave of light and dust roaring out of the earth.

We collapsed beside the car, coughing, covered in soot.

Zoey looked back at the crater glowing in the rain. "It's gone."

I shook my head. "Not gone. Buried again. Like everything else in this damn country."

She turned to me. "So what now?"

I reached into my jacket and held up the single surviving drive — the one marked "Subject 001."

"We find Ricky," I said. "And this time, we finish it."

Hours later, we parked near the city outskirts. The storm had finally eased. Northvale's skyline flickered in the distance, half the lights out.

Zoey broke the silence. "Do you ever think maybe this is too big for us?"

I glanced at her. "Maybe. But we're the only ones who know the truth now."

She sighed. "You think Ricky's expecting you?"

I smiled grimly. "He built me. He's been expecting me my whole life."

We sat there for a while, letting the rain tap against the windshield. Finally, Zoey said softly, "Frank… thank you. For not giving up on me back there."

I didn't answer right away. Then I said, "You'd have done the same."

She smiled faintly. "Don't be so sure."

I smirked. "I am."

As I started the engine, the radio came to life — static, then a familiar voice. Ricky's.

"Miller. If you're hearing this, you've reached the end of the maze. But the truth isn't behind you — it's inside you."

Zoey looked at me. "He's alive."

I nodded slowly. "And he wants me to come find him."

The car rolled forward, headlights slicing through the mist.

Somewhere out there, Rickleton was waiting — the man who made me, the man I had to destroy.

And as the city lights disappeared in the rearview mirror, I whispered,

"The hunt isn't over."

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