Silence didn't last. It never did in Division Grey.
The blackout cracked open with a low, animal hum — the kind that lived in walls and wires. The kind that breathed when no one else could.
Seris coughed through the haze, blinking grit and static out of her vision. The floor beneath her wasn't solid anymore. The mirrored tiles were warped, breathing slow, faint light pulsing like veins beneath glass.
Hale's voice cut through the dark. "Seris! Move!"
She turned, disoriented. His silhouette loomed ahead, flashlight trembling in his grip, face streaked with blood and ash. Behind him, the corridor walls stretched and curved like they were growing, swallowing the familiar geometry of the facility.
Then she saw him.
Theron.
He was half-collapsed against a wall, head bowed, mist curling off his body like smoke from a dying fire. His sword lay at his feet, humming softly — a dying echo of the power that had nearly torn the sector apart.
"Theron!"
She stumbled toward him, knees scraping metal. When she touched his shoulder, static jumped from his skin into hers. The jolt burned, but she didn't pull back.
"Stay with me," she whispered.
His eyes flickered open — not glowing, but fractured, light breaking beneath the surface like a glitch trying to breathe. "Where… are we?"
"Sector Zero collapsed," Hale said, scanning the hallway. "We're in the auxiliary vein, north sublevel. System's rerouting power."
Seris glanced down the hall. Every light flickered different colors, each bulb pulsing out of sync like a heartbeat in seizure. The deeper they went, the louder the whispers became — the same low, warped murmur that bled through the metal.
Nine's voice threaded through the static, softer now, almost calm.
You shouldn't run. You've seen what lies beneath. You can't unsee it.
Theron flinched, clutching his head. "Get out of my—"
Your head? The voice laughed. We share the same space now. Stop pretending there's a difference.
Seris grabbed his hand. "Ignore him. We need to get out of here before the next collapse."
"Out?" Hale muttered. "The upper levels are sealed. Grey's protocols go vertical first. We'll be lucky if the lifts aren't slagged."
"We're not staying down here," Seris snapped. "Help me get him up."
Hale hesitated, then slung Theron's arm over his shoulder. Together they moved through the corridor, boots splashing through shallow water mixed with oil and blood. Every few meters, sparks rained from the ceiling, reflecting across the mirrored walls until it looked like they were walking through firelight.
Then the whispers shifted.
Not background noise — words.
—wake… more—
—connection incomplete—
—Subject Nine: external link confirmed—
Seris froze. "They're still running internal systems."
"Not systems," Hale said grimly. "The facility's using Nine as its core relay now. He's integrated. Every wall, every door — he's inside all of it."
She looked at Theron, her stomach twisting. "You're saying he's part of the architecture?"
"Worse. He's the power source."
Theron's body trembled against them, his breath shallow. The white static across his veins brightened for a moment, then dimmed again.
Nine's voice came quieter this time, slipping through the dark like a secret:
I told you. They fed us. Built cathedrals to hold our bones. Now they run on our ghosts.
"Shut up," Theron growled, his teeth clenched. "You're not me."
I'm what they made you to be.
A deep rumble rolled through the hall. The walls convulsed — plates shifting, sealing off sections like closing jaws. Hale shoved Seris forward. "Move!"
They ran.
The corridor behind them folded inward, the sound like thunder grinding through steel. Light died in strips as power rerouted itself, chasing their footsteps in synchronized waves.
Seris skidded around a corner — and stopped.
The passage ahead split in two. One side led toward the lift access. The other descended into darkness, glowing faint blue at the edges — the core maintenance line.
Hale swore under his breath. "The lift's a death trap if Nine's awake."
"Then we go down," Seris said.
"That's suicide."
She glared at him. "Up there is control. Down there is truth."
Theron's head lifted weakly, eyes unfocused but listening. "She's right."
Hale turned, furious. "He's barely conscious. You're taking orders from—"
"From the only person who can end this," Seris snapped. "Nine's inside him, but that means he's still connected to the core. If we cut that link—"
Nine's laughter filled the hall. You think I'm just wires and code? You'd have to kill him to kill me.
Seris's voice was steady, though her hands shook. "Then I'll make that call when I have to."
They descended.
The lower levels were unrecognizable — pipes melted, runes burned into walls like brands. It wasn't machinery anymore; it was anatomy. The further they went, the more the floor pulsed, the same rhythm Seris had felt before: alive.
At the bottom of the stairs, they found it — a massive glass artery, thick cables spiraling around it like vines. Inside, faint white light surged and pulsed like blood through veins.
Hale whispered, "The power core."
Seris stepped closer. "No. The heart."
Nine's voice came through the intercom, everywhere at once now, his tone almost reverent.
The first seed of Grey's creation. They found it buried beneath the ruins. Thought it divine. Thought it safe.
The core flared brighter.
Images flooded Seris's mind — flashes of bodies submerged in vats, runes burning into their skin, eyes turning white as circuits merged with flesh. She stumbled, gasping, clutching her head.
Theron caught her arm before she fell. His grip was steady — too steady.
"Don't fight it," he said softly. But it wasn't his voice.
Nine looked out from his eyes again. "See it. Feel it. This is what you were protecting."
Hale raised his gun. "Get out of him."
Nine smiled faintly through Theron's face. "Shoot. Let's see if bullets can kill what's already data."
Before Hale could pull the trigger, the floor beneath them shifted, veins of light snapping like cables under strain. The heart pulsed once, violently, throwing them backward.
Seris hit the wall hard. Sparks filled the air. When she looked up, the artery had split open — liquid light spilling across the floor, crawling like mercury.
Theron staggered to his feet, standing in the glow. His reflection in the glass wasn't human anymore — it was white noise wearing skin.
"Theron!"
He turned, eyes hollow but aware. "He's not going to stop."
"You can fight him," she said. "I've seen you fight worse."
He shook his head. "You don't understand. There's no fighting what's already inside."
Nine's voice bled through him, overlapping perfectly:
She's right about one thing. It ends here. Just not the way she hopes.
The glass artery cracked again, a web of light racing toward the ceiling. Hale fired — a clean, sharp sound in the chaos — but the bullet froze midair, dissolving into static before it reached Theron.
The heart's light expanded.
Every mirrored surface reflected a different version of Theron — one human, one machine, one ghost. They overlapped until she couldn't tell where he began and Nine ended.
Then the voice came from everywhere — calm, final.
Rebirth sequence: complete.
The light swallowed them whole.