Timestamp: December 13th, 20XX
Time: 02:03 A.M.
Location: Prague, Czech Republic – U-Bahn Maintenance Terminal, Sector 12-C (Blacksite)
⸻
The wind scraped against the glass like fingernails.
Derik stood atop the gutted skeleton of a maintenance tram in Sector 12-C, eyes on a small terminal glowing inside a concrete utility closet. This place wasn't listed on any map. It wasn't supposed to exist.
But it did.
Because his mother had been here.
The terminal powered on with a low hum. Static lines ran across the screen. And then a single prompt:
"LEVEL RED CLEARANCE CONFIRMED: HALVORSEN-BLOODLINE."
Welcome back, Joanna.
Derik didn't flinch.
⸻
03:19 A.M. – Footage Playback: VEX-7 (Transmitted File)
A flickering feed appeared. Surveillance. 18 months old.
His mother walked through a cold, sterile corridor under escort. Dressed in pale gray scrubs, wrists cuffed, but walking upright.
Strong.
Aware.
She paused at a mirror installed into the steel wall, leaned forward, and whispered something. There was no audio. But Derik read lips like a soldier.
"My son will come."
She didn't say if.
She said will.
⸻
03:26 A.M. – Archive Unlock: PERSONAL REPORTS – JOANNA HALVORSEN
He opened it. Seventy-four pages. Handwritten scans.
Joanna's last logged report was dated November 14, 20XX—two days after Derik killed his father.
She wrote:
"Derik has entered Phase II. The death of Harlan was predicted but not assigned. His response was not rage… it was precision."
"This is no longer nurture or nature. This is emergence."
"I fear he is outpacing the metrics. Lucid Frame expected control. What they got… is adaptation."
Derik's throat tightened.
So she knew.
Not just that he was alive—but that he was becoming something the system couldn't calculate anymore.
⸻
04:12 A.M. – Red-Level Dispatch: "Project WARDEN"
A locked folder blinked open on the console.
Inside: a black-and-white ID photo.
A boy. Pale. Shaved head. Teeth slightly crooked. Expression flat.
No name.
PROJECT WARDEN: Sub-Zero Candidate Retention
Age: Unknown (Est. 10–12)
Exposure to daylight: 0
Exposure to human interaction: minimal
Retention method: "Darkhold Methodology" – Audio + light deprivation for total identity erasure
Physical stats:
– Grip strength: 4x average adult male
– Reflex latency: < .31 seconds
– Social empathy markers: nonexistent
Designated Fail-Safe for Lucid Frame Collapse.
The boy was Derik's brother.
They called him Ash.
"Prague Underground, Mirror Room"
Derik stood in the maintenance bay, watching himself in the same mirror his mother touched.
He raised his hand, placed it against the same smear she left.
He whispered:
"You saw it coming. But you didn't stop it."
He lowered his voice, almost to a breath.
"You were part of it."
The reflection didn't answer. But for the first time in years, he could almost hear her voice behind the silence.
He turned, opened the case, and pulled out the burn-map of VEX-7.
There was one corridor not on the plans.
Timestamp: December 13th, 20XX
Time: 02:03 A.M.
Location: Prague, Czech Republic – U-Bahn Maintenance Terminal, Sector 12-C (Blacksite)
⸻
The wind scraped against the glass like fingernails.
Derik stood atop the gutted skeleton of a maintenance tram in Sector 12-C, eyes on a small terminal glowing inside a concrete utility closet. This place wasn't listed on any map. It wasn't supposed to exist.
But it did.
Because his mother had been here.
The terminal powered on with a low hum. Static lines ran across the screen. And then a single prompt:
"LEVEL RED CLEARANCE CONFIRMED: HALVORSEN-BLOODLINE."
Welcome back, Joanna.
Derik didn't flinch.
⸻
03:19 A.M. – Footage Playback: VEX-7 (Transmitted File)
A flickering feed appeared. Surveillance. 18 months old.
His mother walked through a cold, sterile corridor under escort. Dressed in pale gray scrubs, wrists cuffed, but walking upright.
Strong.
Aware.
She paused at a mirror installed into the steel wall, leaned forward, and whispered something. There was no audio. But Derik read lips like a soldier.
"My son will come."
She didn't say if.
She said will.
⸻
03:26 A.M. – Archive Unlock: PERSONAL REPORTS – JOANNA HALVORSEN
He opened it. Seventy-four pages. Handwritten scans.
Joanna's last logged report was dated November 14, 20XX—two days after Derik killed his father.
She wrote:
"Derik has entered Phase II. The death of Harlan was predicted but not assigned. His response was not rage… it was precision."
"This is no longer nurture or nature. This is emergence."
"I fear he is outpacing the metrics. Lucid Frame expected control. What they got… is adaptation."
Derik's throat tightened.
So she knew.
Not just that he was alive—but that he was becoming something the system couldn't calculate anymore.
⸻
04:12 A.M. – Red-Level Dispatch: "Project WARDEN"
A locked folder blinked open on the console.
Inside: a black-and-white ID photo.
A boy. Pale. Shaved head. Teeth slightly crooked. Expression flat.
No name.
PROJECT WARDEN: Sub-Zero Candidate Retention
Age: Unknown (Est. 10–12)
Exposure to daylight: 0
Exposure to human interaction: minimal
Retention method: "Darkhold Methodology" – Audio + light deprivation for total identity erasure
Physical stats:
– Grip strength: 4x average adult male
– Reflex latency: < .31 seconds
– Social empathy markers: nonexistent
Designated Fail-Safe for Lucid Frame Collapse.
The boy was Derik's brother.
They called him Ash.
"Prague Underground, Mirror Room"
Derik stood in the maintenance bay, watching himself in the same mirror his mother touched.
He raised his hand, placed it against the same smear she left.
He whispered:
"You saw it coming. But you didn't stop it."
He lowered his voice, almost to a breath.
"You were part of it."
The reflection didn't answer. But for the first time in years, he could almost hear her voice behind the silence.
He turned, opened the case, and pulled out the burn-map of VEX-7.
There was one corridor not on the plans.