After the tense briefing wrapped up, all six members of P-Type made their way back to their quarters. But the room they returned to felt strangely unfamiliar. The gaming consoles that used to be scattered everywhere were gone without a trace. And most noticeably… Quinn Roxanne, the team's troublemaking little wildcard, was nowhere to be seen.
"Hey… where's Roxanne?"
Sophie asked, her voice edged with worry as her eyes swept across the empty room.
"She probably ran off somewhere, like always."
Gareth replied with a casual shrug, not giving it much thought.
"But her stuff's gone too."
Alicia pointed out, glancing toward the girl's usual corner, now unnervingly spotless.
"Just as I said."
Colonel Pierce stepped out of the briefing room behind them, his stride steady and unhurried.
"Anyone deemed unfit will be removed. From this point on, P-Type will consist of only six members."
"Then where was she sent?"
Sophie pressed, unable to hide the worry in her voice.
"That, I don't know. Dr. Nicolas handles that side of things entirely."
Pierce replied, his expression as unmoving as stone.
"They're not doing anything strange to her… right…"
Sophie murmured, suspicion creeping into her voice at the thought of the project's director.
"I doubt it… Someone like her? She'd crush anything just by thinking about it. Who'd even dare?"
Gareth said, trying to reassure her as he gave her shoulder a light pat. One by one, the others drifted off to handle their own tasks, leaving Sophie standing there alone, her face still clouded with worry over the fate of the team's youngest member.
.....
"Alright, Edward. If you actually want to survive out there in the Outlands, the first thing you need is sharp eyes and sharper instincts."
Drago said it in a serious tone as he stood facing the boy in the middle of a vast, empty hall inside the underground base.
"No matter how agile you are, if you move carelessly and walk straight into a trap… that's where it ends."
"They use traps too?"
Edward asked, his gaze sweeping across the room that seemed to hold nothing at all.
"When I say traps, I don't mean some crude animal snare like the ones you're thinking of."
Drago explained, pacing slowly in a circle around the boy.
"I mean the moment you let yourself fall into the enemy's design. Terrain, timing, speed, even the smallest details, like what you choose to carry with you. If any one of those lines up with what they've already accounted for, then you're already caught."
He came to a stop, locking his eyes onto Edward's.
"Sharp eyes aren't just about seeing what's in front of you. It's about knowing whether what you're seeing… is real, or bait."
"Then how am I supposed to figure out what the enemy's planning?"
Edward asked, confusion evident as he raised his guard, bracing himself.
"It's simple. You assess the situation. Let's say I'm about to attack you, watch closely and figure out what my real objective is… Got it? And keep your pack on."
Drago finished with a faint, knowing smirk.
"Then come at me!"
The moment Edward's words left his mouth, Drago lunged forward. Even at that inhuman speed, his movement was still visible to the naked eye. Edward twisted his body and barely slipped past him, dodging by the narrowest margin as Drago swept by.
"Right now… you're already caught."
Drago came to an abrupt stop and spoke in a calm, even tone.
"What? I dodged you, didn't I?!"
Edward shot back immediately, quickly checking himself for any injuries.
Drago didn't answer. Instead, he pulled out a flashlight and shone it at the boy, switching it to a deep violet blacklight. Edward's eyes widened in shock when a clear handprint, Drago's lit up across his abdomen. He had been sure he'd avoided the hit.
"I was never aiming for your pack. I just used my words to make you focus on it, to throw off your attention. Think about it… what if I'd been holding a lethal weapon? Or what if that had been Alicia coming at you, ready to plant a parasite?"
Drago said, his tone sharp and grounded.
"You were so busy celebrating the dodge that you didn't even notice. I only made you evade so I could touch you the moment you opened a gap."
Remember this well, never trust what you see. Everything has a core to it. If you can grasp that, even someone like 23 is within your reach. Drago said.
"Again!"
Edward shot back with a challenging grin, his eyes beginning to gleam with excitement.
"That's more like it!"
Drago replied, setting his stance as he prepared for the next wave of attacks.
But this time, it didn't go the way Drago expected. Edward made the first move, charging straight at him with everything he had. Drago stood his ground, ready to swing and teach the reckless kid a lesson for daring to come at him head-on. But when the distance closed to just four feet, Edward abruptly halted, then sprang upward. He planted his palm against the center of Drago's head, using it as a pivot, and flipped cleanly over him, landing behind him in an instant.
"Not bad… but you're still caught in my trap."
Drago said as he slowly turned back, completely composed.
"Easy there, coach… you're the one who's already dead."
Edward shot back, raising the blacklight flashlight he had secretly grabbed from a nearby table and shining it at Drago's back.
The violet glow revealed a clear handprint from the boy stamped across the immortal's back.
"So how exactly did I lose?"
Edward fired back immediately, a hint of pride in his voice after finally turning the tables.
Drago let out a low, rumbling laugh.
"Heh… faster than I expected. When did you swipe my flashlight, huh? But didn't you forget something, kid?"
A sharp grin spread across his face as he slowly shook his head.
"First… I'm immortal. That kind of hit doesn't do anything to me. And second…"
He paused for just a breath before raising something up to eye level. It was Edward's backpack, the one he had been carrying just moments ago.
"While you were focused on dodging the hit to your stomach, or looking for an opening to tag my back, you completely forgot about your own gear."
Drago tossed the bag back to the boy, who stood there stunned.
"In a real fight, if that had been a bomb, or something you absolutely had to protect… you'd have already failed."
Edward caught the backpack and held it close, a cold sweat running down his back. Only now did he understand what Drago meant by assessing the situation. It wasn't just about watching the enemy. It was about controlling everything around you in a single instant.
"The idea is simple, Edward… you must never let the enemy take anything from you. But at the same time, you have to make them believe they've taken something."
Drago said, reinforcing the lesson as he gave the boy a light pat on the shoulder.
"That's enough for today. Forget physical skills, you've got no issues there. It's your mindset that needs a serious overhaul, and that's what I'll be drilling into your head from now on."
He finished with a long exhale, shedding the harsh drill instructor persona.
"What kind of life have you guys even been through…"
Edward murmured, almost in awe, his eyes fixed on the broad back of the immortal man who looked like he had walked through countless battlefields.
"I'm a former soldier, remember? What, you think I was the type to sit behind a desk signing orders?"
Drago replied with a laugh as they walked side by side out of the training room, heading back toward the central hall of the underground base, where the dim lighting felt far safer than the world above.
.....
Inside a subway carriage lavishly decorated in stark contrast to the ruined world outside, Isaac reclined elegantly against a cushioned leather seat. In his hand, a glass of red wine caught the dim light as he sipped it with deliberate care. Before him sat a thick cut of steak, its rich aroma drifting through the air, plated with meticulous precision on fine ceramic.
Across from him was Sven, now freed from the restraints that once bound his wrists. He was guzzling a chilled can of soda, drinking like a man who hadn't tasted anything cold in ages. The table in front of him was piled high with an absurd assortment of desserts, stacked like a small mountain. Yet despite the indulgence, heavy steel shackles still clamped tightly around both his ankles, locking him firmly to the train car's floor.
"So, have you given any thought to my offer? It's a very simple and straightforward arrangement."
Isaac spoke in a calm voice, one that carried quiet authority.
"What I'm offering you is a life of luxury under my protection. A safe place to stay. Clean water. Exceptional food. Fine wine, beer, anything you desire. Even women who will cater to your every need. I always honor my word. If you accept, this kind of life becomes your new normal immediately. No more running. No more being hunted by the government."
He set his wine glass down slowly, his gaze locking onto the eyes of Project 12.
"Think about it… living like a king in the shadows, or being a cornered rat in the Outlands. Which would you choose?"
Sven sat in silence, his expression heavy with thought. Inside, a fierce conflict raged. On one side was the pull of a comfortable life, one where he wouldn't have to fight for survival or run for his life anymore. On the other was the unease that came with an offer that felt far too good to trust.
"You've only talked about what I'd gain… what about what I lose?"
Sven finally asked, his gaze fixed sharply on the man in front of him.
"Ha… you're an interesting one."
Isaac let out a soft, amused laugh as he leaned back into his seat.
"I only need samples of your blood. As for how much, that depends on what my researchers plan to do with it. But it's nothing too serious."
He paused, taking a slow sip of his wine until the glass was empty.
"And one more thing… just come work with me. You've already seen what Zenos is capable of. You'd simply be assisting my right-hand man. Talent like yours is far too valuable to waste. Becoming part of Out Law… it's not something that costs you your dignity."
The negotiation continued over the lavish meal, wrapped in the scent of fine wine and drifting cigar smoke. Inside the intricately designed train carriage, Isaac kept his eyes on Subject 12, his gaze filled with expectation and quiet authority. Sven, meanwhile, could only sit there, staring at the mountain of desserts and exquisite food in front of him, his thoughts tangled in conflict.
Outside the sealed carriage, Zenos stood motionless, like a statue forged from steel. He kept watch in silence, his back resting against the cold metal wall as he monitored every movement around him, ensuring his employer could close this deal without interruption. Though only a door separated them, the pressure he exuded still seeped into the space inside.
.....
Deep within the most secluded level of Biotope 5's research facility, a secret laboratory bathed in dim light revealed the solitary figure of Dr. Nicolas standing in silence. His gaze was fixed on a massive cylindrical glass chamber before him. In his hand, he held a critical research report, its title clearly marked: Project 37.
Inside the chamber, a translucent amber liquid shimmered with an eerie glow. Dozens of tubes and chemical lines twisted and connected into high-tech equipment that hummed softly as it operated. Suspended within the fluid was the unconscious body of a young girl. A specialized mask covered her nose and mouth, sustaining her breathing.
That girl was Quinn Roxanne, once the troublemaking member of P-Type, recently removed after being deemed unfit. But the truth now stood in stark clarity. She hadn't been sent away to some holding facility. She had been returned to where she originally came from… as Project 37, the final specimen of the project that created beings like P-Type and Drago.