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墨書 Inktalez
The moment the alarm shattered the air, I staggered to my feet, clutching a half-broken IV stand.
The shards of tempered glass glimmered with a blood-red hue under the warning lights, resembling scattered rubies across the floor. Blood droplets oozed from the wound on my left shoulder, falling from my fingertips and tapping out a sporadic dark red rhythm on the metal floor.
“B Zone Level Three containment breach!”
A hoarse male voice suddenly erupted from the intercom at the end of the corridor. I moved along the wall, the scent of disinfectant mingling with the metallic tang of blood stinging my nostrils.
The dull thud of tactical boots striking the Metal Floor echoed around the corner, where two fully armed Security personnel were charging their Stun Batons, arcs of Blue-Violet electricity dancing across their shoulder patches.
Suddenly, a series of three long and two short knocks came from the Ventilation Duct. I jerked my head up to see a gap half the width of a palm being pushed open from inside the metal grate.
A Micro Communicator rolled to my feet, and a female voice crackled through the Earpiece, accompanied by electrical static: “Catch it! Seven O'Clock Direction safety passage, detonation in thirty seconds!”
The metallic sound of a Gun Bolt being pulled back exploded behind me. I dove sideways into the shadow of a Fire Cabinet, adrenaline surging through me as an eerie blue light flickered at the edges of my vision.
The glass of the Disinfection Cabinet reflected three tactical helmets, their Eagle Falcon Emblem illuminated and dimmed by the emergency lights.
“He’s carrying Beta Inhibitor data!”
The lead Security suddenly roared into his Earpiece. “Better to shoot him than…”
Before he could finish his sentence, a web-like crack suddenly split open in the Load-Bearing Wall. Concrete debris mixed with white mist from Tear Gas surged out, and even through a Gas Mask, the sharp mint scent made tears stream down my face.
A figure clad in a Camouflage Uniform emerged from the smoke, half her face visible as she brandished a glinting Tactical Dagger.
“Run!”
She grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the Escape Ladder, just as a shotgun blasted open the Fire Door behind us. My heart raced in my chest, and every five steps along the Stair Handrail, a crimson number was embedded—17F, 16F—each digit searing into my retina like a brand.
The door to the Cold Storage Door on Negative Two Floor stood ajar, its Display Screen glowing with an eerie green light.
Suddenly, she pushed me inside and slammed the door shut behind her.
In the low-temperature mist floated hundreds of cylindrical incubation chambers, their pale blue liquid cradling translucent experimental subjects. The label on Chamber No. 7 bore hasty scrawls: Sample C-2174, Brain-Computer Interface Overload Test No. 47.
"They're using death row inmates for consciousness upload experiments."
The woman smashed the control panel with the butt of her gun, ripping out a data disk tangled with neural wires. "Among the three batches of 'materials' sent last week, six were missing cybernetic doctors."
As she spoke, the implant at her neck flickered with irregular purple light, reminiscent of a faulty old fluorescent bulb.
A holographic projection suddenly erupted in the center of the cold storage, the dress of the Artificial Intelligence Woman transforming into a myriad of data streams. "Cognitive deviation rate 87%, memory wipe protocol recommended."
Her pupils split into countless hexagonal lattices, her voice tinged with a sharp buzzing sound. The metallic shell of the cold storage began to vibrate at a high frequency, and sparks erupted from my molar fillings.
The moment she threw an electromagnetic pulse grenade, I caught a glimpse of neural wires hanging down from the ventilation duct. Those brains submerged in the incubation fluid suddenly convulsed in unison, thousands of electrodes firing blue light that bathed the entire space in an eerie indigo hue.
The shockwave from the explosion toppled three backup generators, and amidst the sparking circuit breakers, a structural diagram of five underground levels emerged. "The Central Control Room is behind the drainage system!"
I dragged my nearly unconscious companion into the maintenance passage. The waterproof suit was torn open by barbed wire, and sewage mixed with ice shards poured into my collar.
In the darkness, six pairs of infrared light points lit up; the hydraulic joints of a Mechanical Dog creaked painfully. The woman suddenly tore open her tactical vest, revealing gruesome burn scars beneath her collarbone.
The Mechanical Dog's electronic eyes shifted to amber; she seized the opportunity to jab a neurotoxin syringe into its main control circuit. "Old model Enemy Identification Code," she wiped grime from her face, "I escaped from the lab two years ago..."
Gunfire erupted in the drainage pipes, echoing continuously. I gripped the stolen Stun Baton and thrust it into a seam of Security's bulletproof vest, the smell of burnt fabric mingling with screams in the confined space.
The array of the Quantum Computer in the control room emitted a cold, blue glow. A woman in a Holographic Projection was channeling her consciousness into a deep space frequency. Suddenly, the data strands from her hair materialized into physical cables that twisted toward us.
"Now's our chance!"
My companion hurled the EMP device at the main cooling vent. I fired three shots at the Neural Interface; instead of sparks, dark red organic fluid sprayed from the bullet holes. The entire building's lighting system began to flicker, and the hydraulic locks on the security doors exploded one after another, while a distorted hymn echoed through the emergency broadcast.
As we crashed through the last airtight door, the rain at three in the morning washed over the Neon Sign. The rebel hovercraft skimmed past the Laser Net above the rooftop, searchlights reflecting countless shattered light spots in the puddles below.
I glanced back at the tilting Cosmic Technology Building, where the top floors of the Glass Curtain Wall were shattering layer by layer, resembling a rain of light falling in reverse.
"They will activate the backup mainframe within 72 hours."
The woman replaced the energy cartridge in her Pulse Rifle as the Vehicle-mounted Radio suddenly picked up a segment of encrypted frequency. The windshield wipers created a stuttering rhythm on the glass, and in the rearview mirror, a man with a Mechanical Eye whispered into his Earpiece. The hem of his trench coat revealed half of a familiar Eagle Falcon Emblem.
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