The driver kept going, while another motorcycle followed us with silent speed. We passed by some of the Enlisted, but our high speed made it impossible for them to act.
Elsewhere in the city, deep within a maze of gray walls and cold tunnels, there was a dark room lit only by the glow of dozens of screens. Each screen displayed scenes from different corners of the city — streets, rooftops, underground corridors — as if they were ever-watchful eyes.
At the center of the room sat a man in a pitch-black leather chair. He wore a long coat the color of the night and a mask adorned with black gems that sparkled under the blue glow of the monitors. Reclining back, fingers interlocked, he muttered with a smirk:
"Hah... So they've finally begun. Let's see how long these rebels last."
A mad laugh echoed off the empty walls.
— Back to the young man —
The two motorcycles headed south toward the edge of New York, far from the noise and surveillance — toward a place untouched by monitoring: Greenbelt in Staten Island — one of the city's last true green spots.
After a long ride through thick trees and forgotten trails, they reached a small grassy clearing surrounded by forest. The lead driver stopped, and the young man dismounted with him. The rider then brushed away some overgrowth to reveal a hidden trapdoor.
He opened it. The second rider descended first, followed by the first, and then Adam. As soon as they entered, the door quietly closed behind them, as if nothing had ever been there.
Underground, everything changed. A wide room resembling an intelligence command center — massive screens lined the walls showing various city views, weapons were neatly mounted, and surveillance devices hummed quietly. It was a fusion of technology and danger.
The two riders removed their helmets.
The first: a young man in his early twenties, fair-skinned, with messy jet-black hair and striking green eyes that burned with restrained rebellion.
The second: a rugged man in his forties, face hardened by years, cropped black hair, and intense, dark-honey eyes. His tone carried the weight of experience.
The older man stepped forward and asked in a calm but firm voice:
"Are you alright, young man?"
Adam was stunned by everything around him. He felt like he'd seen the older man before, but confusion clouded his certainty. He responded hesitantly:
"Yeah… I'm alright. Thanks. But... who are you?"
The younger one answered coldly:
"I'm Zev. This is Everett."
Then he stared at Adam and added:
"What's your name?"
Adam hesitated for a moment, then replied:
"Adam… Adam Kayan. Do you two know what's really going on in this world?"
Everett smiled faintly, but didn't answer right away. Then he said:
"Adam? That's not a common name. Where are you from?"
Adam replied:
"I'm Arab. I was studying here in the U.S.… before all this happened. Before everything turned into a nightmare."
Everett looked at him seriously, concern in his expression and voice steady:"What happened to you? And your look... It shows signs of control. What happened out there?"
Before Adam could respond, a side door to the bunker opened — a dark hallway leading to the back. A woman in her early thirties stepped out, with long black hair falling over her shoulders and bright green eyes full of sharp wit. Her features bore a clear resemblance to Zev. She smiled warmly and said with playful tone:
"Looks like the mission's finally done... I was tied up with other matters. What happened out there?"
Zev answered in his usual calm, unreadable way:"We completed the mission… but I fear we're being watched."
The woman's smile faltered for a split second, but she quickly refocused on Adam, stepping toward him with a light gait and obvious curiosity. She extended her hand with a gentle smile:"I'm Lina… Nice to meet you. What's your name?"
Adam hesitated. He hadn't spoken to strangers in so long. He'd lost the sense of human interaction long before the collapse. Still, he extended his hand, slightly tense:"Likewise… I'm Adam."
She smiled kindly. Then Everett turned to the others and said firmly:"Let's head to the room… There's much we need to discuss — in quiet."
They entered one by one. Adam lingered for a moment, then followed slowly. The room resembled a secret war room — a large table sat in the center, surrounded by iron and wood chairs. Along the sides, shelves held old books, devices, and scattered documents. Adam's eyes roamed the space in awe — he had always longed for books, for knowledge, for everything that reminded him of the world before the fall. He stepped slowly, taking it all in like a child walking into a library for the first time, then finally sat — a bit apart from the others.
The three sat opposite him, like an inquiry panel, and he — the lone subject under questioning. For a moment, Adam felt this wasn't just a meet-and-greet… it was a quiet interrogation wrapped in civility.
Everett began in a serious tone:"How did you regain your awareness, Adam?"
Adam hesitated, then replied:"Yes… they really were controlling me. It was terrifying. Like being alive but soulless — I could feel and see, but I couldn't break free. I was trapped in that cursed day when humanity changed forever. After that, I lived like the rest — wake up after blackout, perform only the assigned duties. Wake, eat, drink, leave at the same time as everyone else. We all went to work. I was in agriculture and harvesting, like most — the essential sectors for human survival. Everything was rigid, down to the minute. No room for refusal.
But one day, on my way to catch the work bus, a rock hit me. I don't know how or where from. I felt a jolt of electricity… then woke up — fully aware again. That's what happened."
The room went silent. Zev looked tense and asked:"You mean... anyone hit by a rock can break free?"
Adam gave him a confused look and replied:"I don't know... But what about you guys?"
Everett placed a hand on his chin, lost in thought. Lina interrupted gently:
"We never had the chip implanted. That's why we were never under control."
Adam was stunned. He stood suddenly and slammed the table in frustration:"Is it the Oria One chip?!"
Their expressions grew even more serious. Everett answered:"Yes. That company is the root of it all. The world has been enslaved by that chip. Everything is run by a single routine. The Enlisted — those who chose this life — have more freedom than the rest. They're everywhere. They operate under one emotional system. We believe there's a centralized force controlling them all."