The rain never stopped in Veriton. It washed the streets in an endless dirge, soaked the crumbling tenements, and masked the city's sins with a sheen of silver. By the time Evan and Maya reached the old subway tunnels, their clothes clung to their bodies like second skins, and every step left a squelch on the cracked pavement.
They slipped through a broken service gate, stepping into darkness thick enough to taste. The faint hum of electricity buzzed somewhere deep below, but here, above the abandoned tracks, only the distant drip of water and the rustle of rats filled the air.
Maya's breath came in sharp puffs as she led Evan down a narrow side passage. Her fingers clenched around the black case like a lifeline, knuckles white with strain.
Evan wanted to ask where they were going, but something in her face silenced him. He just followed, heart hammering against his ribs, the image of those men in black flashing through his mind. The way they moved — organized, trained. Like soldiers.
This wasn't just a bad deal gone wrong. It was something deeper. Older.
Finally, they emerged into a small maintenance room lit by a single, flickering bulb. It swung slightly on its chain, throwing long, skeletal shadows across the stained walls.
Maya slammed the door behind them and bolted it.
Evan leaned against the far wall, chest heaving. "Okay. Talk. What the hell was that back there?"
Maya dropped the case on an overturned crate. For a moment, she just stared at it, like it might grow teeth and lunge at her.
Then she spoke.
"They're called the Orpheum Initiative."
Evan frowned. "Never heard of it."
"You're not supposed to," she said grimly. "They operate out of the cracks. Governments, corporations — even the hospitals — they all turn a blind eye. The Initiative experiments on people, Evan. Alters them. Enhances them. Breaks them. All off the books."
Evan felt a cold knot form in his gut. "What's in that case?"
Maya crouched down, flipping the locks open again with quick, practiced movements. She peeled back the documents one by one, laying them out like corpses on a table.
Photos. Names. Files thicker than old textbooks. And at the bottom — the black box with the biohazard mark.
She opened it carefully.
Inside was a vial.
The liquid inside shimmered with an unnatural gleam, shifting colors subtly even in the poor light.
Evan took a step back without realizing it.
"What is that?"
Maya looked up at him, and for the first time since he'd met her, he saw real fear in her eyes.
"It's a prototype," she whispered. "They called it Project Helix. A genetic modifier. If the notes are right..." she trailed off, throat working. "It can rewrite a human being from the inside out. Strength. Intelligence. Healing. Aggression. All dialed up. Or down."
Evan stared at the vial, horrified. "Like—like making superhumans?"
"Or monsters," Maya said, voice brittle.
The silence pressed down on them. The rain outside hammered like fists against the earth.
"Why do you have this?" Evan asked.
Maya stood slowly, tension radiating off her like heat.
"Because someone paid me to steal it," she said. "And now that we have it, they're going to kill us both just to make sure no one else ever sees it."
Evan let out a strangled laugh. "Fantastic. Any bright ideas?"
Maya shook her head. "No. But running isn't enough anymore. We need leverage." She jabbed a finger at the files. "We find the right name, the right secret — something big enough to make them hesitate."
Evan moved closer, leafing through the files with shaking fingers.
A name caught his eye.
Dr. August Krell.
Below it, a photo: a tall man with wire-rimmed glasses, a calm, detached expression, and eyes like cold iron.
"I know that guy," Evan said, stunned. "He was on TV last month. Talking about some breakthrough in neural prosthetics."
Maya gave a tight nod. "Public face. Private monster."
Evan read further. The details made his stomach turn. Trials on children. Unauthorized implants. Erased identities.
Krell wasn't just part of the Initiative — he was one of its architects.
"This could work," Maya said, eyes gleaming with a hard, desperate light. "If we expose Krell, they'll have to pull back. Too much heat."
Evan hesitated. "And if they don't?"
Maya smiled grimly. "Then we burn it all down."
The plan formed quickly, stitched together by fear and adrenaline. They'd leak the documents to a contact Maya trusted — someone outside Veriton. Someone too big to silence easily.
First, they had to survive the night.
They left the tunnels before dawn, slipping back into the maze of the city. Veriton wore its daylight like a cheap mask — cleaner on the surface, still rotting underneath.
At a grimy diner on Third Street, they found a booth near the back and ordered the cheapest coffee the menu offered.
Evan watched the street through the window, every passing car a potential threat.
Maya worked her phone like a concert pianist, fingers flying. Codes, dead drops, encrypted messages.
"You trust this guy?" Evan asked.
"About as much as I trust anyone," she said. "Which isn't saying much."
Outside, a black van crawled past. Too slow. Too deliberate.
Evan tensed. Maya noticed, her hand drifting toward the crowbar tucked into her bag.
The van kept going.
They both exhaled.
"I hate this," Evan muttered. "Always waiting for the axe to fall."
"Welcome to my world," Maya said, sipping her bitter coffee like it was the last comfort left.
Hours dragged by. The city changed around them — office workers replaced by street hustlers, suits by worn leather jackets and hungry eyes.
And then, just as the sun dipped low enough to turn the sky bruised purple, Maya's phone buzzed once.
She checked it, face hardening.
"They're onto us," she said. "We move now or we're dead."
No arguments. Evan grabbed the briefcase. Maya grabbed her pack.
They bolted from the diner, weaving through the crowds. Behind them, the black van swung around, doors sliding open mid-turn.
Three men in dark tactical gear leapt out, guns flashing in the dying light.
The crowd screamed and scattered.
Evan and Maya ducked into a service alley, sprinting for their lives.
Bullets chewed at the brick walls, spraying dust and chunks of mortar into the air.
At the end of the alley, a chain-link fence loomed. No time to think — Evan threw the briefcase over, scrambled up the fence, fingers tearing against the metal.
Maya was right behind him.
On the other side, they dropped into a junkyard — a maze of twisted metal and broken dreams.
The hunters followed, relentless.
Evan ducked between two rusted-out cars, heart clawing at his ribs.
Maya slid into cover beside him. "Split up," she panted. "Meet at the train yard, midnight."
Before he could argue, she was gone, slipping into the shadows like smoke.
Evan clutched the briefcase and ran, weaving through the junkyard with no clear plan except live.
The hunters fanned out behind him, cold and methodical. They knew this dance. They'd done it before.
But Evan had something they didn't — desperation.
He doubled back, crawled under a collapsed fence, darted through an abandoned workshop.
For a while, the footsteps faded.
For a while, he almost believed he was free.
Until he rounded a corner and slammed straight into a man in black.
The man grabbed him, wrenching the briefcase from his hands.
"No!" Evan shouted, struggling.
The man drew a knife — short, ugly, practical.
Evan fought like an animal. Fear lent him strength, made him reckless. He slammed his forehead into the man's nose, heard the crunch, felt the man's grip loosen.
He seized the briefcase and ran.
Didn't look back. Couldn't.
The world narrowed to the pounding of his feet and the burning in his lungs.
Somehow, miraculously, he made it to the freight yard just as night swallowed the city whole.
The rusted skeletons of old trains loomed around him.
Somewhere in the darkness, Maya waited.
If she made it.
If they both lived long enough to make it mean something.
The briefcase thudded against his leg with every step. A burden. A promise. A weapon.
Evan ducked into the shadows, heart racing.
The night stretched out before him, vast and unforgiving.
He gripped the briefcase tighter and pressed on, into the dark unknown.
There was no going back now.
Only through.
Only forward.
Only deeper.
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