The office remains engulfed in silence, the air heavy with the scent of smoke and anxiety. After a few minutes, a light knock is heard on the metal door, which then slowly opens to reveal Mohamed standing there, calm as always, wearing a long grey coat, his eyes revealing no emotion.
Mohamed (In a low voice) :
You called for me, Sheriff Jacky?
Jacky (Gestures for him to enter without looking at him) :
Come in, Mohamed. We have serious matters to discuss... and I believe you're the only one capable of handling them.
Mohamed walks in quietly, sits in front of Jacky's desk, places his hat on his knees, and waits patiently.
Jacky (looking him directly in the eyes):
What I'm about to say isn't written in reports, nor is it said in front of witnesses. Marco isn't just preventing me from investigating the assassinations... there's something deeper... something filthy.
(He pauses for a moment, then continues)
Sarah told me that Mayor Gerard is behind the assassinations... and that Marco is covering for him. The law has changed... and you know what that means.
Mohamed (Looking at him steadily) :
It means innocent lives are in danger.
Jacky:
Exactly. And now... it's not just about protecting them... it's about exposing the true face of those ruling this hell. Sarah says you're the only one who can reach the man everyone fears. I want to know... is that true?
Mohamed (sighs slowly):
Yes... I know who he is. But reaching him comes at a price. Not money... but irreversible loyalty. I will speak to him... but after that, don't ask me how or when.
Jacky (sharply):
Mohamed... if I find out you're playing both sides, I won't hesitate. I respect you... but I don't trust anyone right now.
Mohamed (Gives a faint smile) :
Neither do I... not even myself.
The two fall silent for a moment, then Mohamed bows slightly, stands up, and picks up his hat.
Mohamed:
I'll go now. If I don't return within 48 hours... tell my brother I tried.
Jacky:
Wait... your brother? Who is your brother?
Mohamed (just before leaving):
I'll leave that for you to find out yourself.
Then he walks out of the office, leaving behind shadows of secrets and concern.
Moments of deadly silence filled the room as he wandered around the office, as if it were the last night of his life. It made him realise that life isn't worth dying for—but it is worth dying while fighting against. This is a truth we've either ignored or refused to seek.
Jacky lights a cigarette, growling as he speaks:
Jacky:
"Who is Mohamed's brother? And what kind of brother does he even have? I must find out... even if it costs me my life."
Sarah enters, dressed in military gear and wearing a breathing mask. She approaches Jacky carrying an AK-47 and some official documents, handing them over as Jacky smoking a cigarette.
Jacky:
"Where do you think you're going?"
Sarah (with confidence and courage):
"I'm going with Mohamed and his team."
Jacky:
"You're not even a member of his team… I doubt he'll agree."
Sarah:
"This isn't up for debate. Rayan is going too, and he's not a team member either. Besides... this is my chance to see him again."
Jacky:
"Rayan's going? Why? And do you really think you'll find Mohamed's brother?"
Sarah:
"It's not about whether I find him. What matters is whether I can convince him to come back with us… to leave that poisoned zone they call The last Silence."
Everything went still Even the air inside Jacky's office seemed to freeze, as if the entire city was holding its breath. But elsewhere—far from the office's cold walls—another journey had already begun… one that led into a world where only whispers of danger dared to echo.
The imaginary camera shifted into the depths of tunnel Z-47, where light barely escaped through the corroded steel cracks in the walls. A murky green gas slithered across the ground like a serpent, coiling around ankles, creeping silently into lungs. The color alone spoke of death—not a quick one, but slow… painful… as if the earth itself was punishing those who dared to tread on it.
On either side of the path leading out, charred human skeletons lay scattered. Some were coated in thick layers of black mold. Others weren't human at all: grotesque creatures with oversized heads, shriveled limbs, and twisted bodies—designed more for suffering than survival. Here, in this poisoned void, nothing was natural… and no one came back whole.
Mohamed stood still among them.
Like a statue of resolve, he gripped a Russian AK-15 assault rifle, his expression carved in determination. Behind him, his squad of ten stood in formation, each of them wielding the same weapon—mirror images of a man who had no room left for fear.
All except for two.
Sami, tall and calm-eyed, carried a Dragunov SVD sniper rifle, holding it like an extension of his own body. Omar, restless in the eyes but focused in stance, had a Barrett M82 sniper slung across his back, with a long samurai sword strapped to his waist and an old, blood-stained Kalashnikov resting on his shoulder.
At the exit of the tunnel, Mohamed came to a halt. He turned slowly to face his team. His voice cut through the thick filters of their gas masks:
"This is the edge of the Last Silence. Beyond this point lies the Exiled Sector of Mustapha."
Only the sound of their breathing responded.
"I'm not going to sugar-coat it. What's waiting for us out there… it's worse than anything you've imagined. The creatures aren't easy to kill. The traps are smart. And the humans? They've traded away what made them human."
Sarah took a step forward. Dressed in dark military gear and a full breathing mask, only her eyes remained exposed. And they weren't afraid.
"What exactly are we facing?" she asked firmly. "Creatures? Traps? Or people who've sold their souls?"
Mohamed nodded slowly.
"Everything you just said… and more. Our goal is to reach the underground lab, secure the data, and get out. No screaming. No hesitation. No turning back."
Omar spoke, his voice low, almost like a worried whisper:
"And if your brother is there…?"
Mohamed looked him straight in the eyes. The answer was already written across his face, but he gave it words:
"I'll bring him back… alive or shattered. What matters is that he doesn't remain there."
A heavy silence fell. Then, as if everyone had reached the same decision at once, fingers locked onto weapons, eyes focused on the towering iron door.
"From this moment on…" Mohamed said, "...we are ghosts. No sound. No mercy. Execute—or don't return."
The metal door began to slide open with a scream of grinding steel And hell was waiting behind it.
Flash Back
In the deepest recesses of Mohamed's memory, one scene remained carved into his soul—a brutal clash with his brother, Mustapha, within the poisoned heart of the Last Silence Zone. A place where death didn't ask for permission… and where brothers became sworn enemies.
Amid the swirling green gas, the two men stood face to face, both clad in full protective suits and sealed masks. Their expressions were hidden—but their eyes blazed with unfiltered hatred.
From behind his mask, Mustapha's voice rang out, hoarse and trembling with rage:
"Everything I've become… all this pain—I owe it to you, Mohamed! You betrayed me! You betrayed our dreams… and left me here to rot!"
Mohamed's voice was cold, unshaken—like steel forged in sorrow.
"You chose this path, Mustapha. I didn't put the knife in your hand or the poison in your thoughts. Don't blame me for your weakness."
A roar of fury echoed between them as Mustapha lunged with his blade—a Japanese katana that sliced through the air like thunder. Mohamed drew his own sword, meeting the strike head-on. Steel clashed with steel in the choking mist, each blow ringing like a death knell.
The battle was fierce. Their movements were blindingly fast, each strike more desperate than the last. Sparks flew, boots slid on the toxic earth, and their muffled grunts were the only rhythm in this deadly dance.
Then came the decisive moment.
Mohamed spun, slipped through Mustapha's defense, and drove his sword forward—straight toward his brother's chest.
But in the blink of an eye, a figure leapt into the space between them.
A boy. Eighteen years old. Brave or foolish, no one could tell.
The blade plunged into his abdomen. Blood sprayed across his white mask. His body collapsed like a cut string.
Time froze.
Mustapha caught the boy before he hit the ground, cradling him with trembling hands.
His eyes burned through the visor of his mask as he looked back at Mohamed.
"You'll pay for this, Mohamed," he hissed. "I swear on his blood… you will pay dearly."
And with that, Mustapha vanished into the mist—carrying the dying boy in his arms.