CHAPTER 28: A DEATHLY SECRET

They descended into the tunnel with weapons raised, boots tapping out soft, hollow echoes along the concrete floor. The farther they moved, the heavier the air became. Rust, mold, and old machinery thickened the atmosphere, but beneath those familiar scents lurked something stranger. Metallic. Sharp. Like blood left to dry but never quite dead.

Richard felt it scratch at the back of his throat, settling there like a warning. The tunnel widened without warning, opening into a sprawling underground complex that looked centuries older than the city above it.

Row after row of glass chambers stretched along the walls, some shattered inward as if something had clawed its way out, others still intact, machinery humming faintly with an eerie kind of life. The liquid inside them glowed in shades of sickly blue and green, casting shifting reflections across the grim concrete.

Stranger still were the symbols etched into the walls. They weren’t painted or carved. They seemed grown into the concrete, dark lines that shifted subtly whenever the light passed over them. Almost like they were breathing.

"Captain..." Rhea whispered.

Her flashlight steadied on one of the remaining chambers.

Inside floated a figure. Human, at first glance. But the longer they stared, the more wrong it became. Its skin was translucent, stretched too tightly across bones and muscle. Thick black veins pulsed beneath the surface like ink spreading through paper. Tubes connected to its spine and limbs, still pumping slow, rhythmic bursts of energy.

And its eyes were open.

They followed the squad’s movements with slow, deliberate curiosity.

Lance exhaled a shaky breath. "What the hell did they do to these people?"

Owen brushed dust from a nearby console and flicked a panel. To his surprise, the screen flickered weakly to life. "The system’s still running. Last active... about two weeks ago."

Richard’s expression tightened. "Two weeks? That means someone’s still here. Or was."

His attention caught on a metallic surface beside the console. Scratched into it with something sharp, likely a knife, was the symbol of Team B. Beneath it, a message carved with desperate, uneven strokes

"They’re awake. Don’t trust the doors."

A cold pressure settled in Richard’s chest.

"Captain," Owen called. "Terminal’s online. You need to see this."

Richard crossed the room. The monitor flickered, half the display fractured by cracks, but the data still scrolled. Experiment logs. Subject numbers. Results. Most corrupted. Some were deliberately erased.

One file, however, was still intact.

[Project Genesis: Phase IX – Human-Animal Integration]

The video launched automatically.

White-coated scientists moved briskly around strapped-down subjects. Young men and women wearing standard Division fatigues. Soldiers. Volunteers who looked hopeful at first.

Then came the convulsions. Screams. Bones shifting under skin. Blood spraying across white tiles. Doctors watching with cold detachment.

Lance took a step back. "They were soldiers. Just like us."

Richard’s stomach twisted. "They weren’t creating supersoldiers. They were manufacturing obedience."

Rhea swallowed hard, her voice barely audible. "Captain... look."

She pulled another file from the console, a map of the facility network. The tunnels stretched under several cities, marked with different project names: Leviathan Sector, Apex Strain, Bloodroot Division.

"This isn’t just one lab," she whispered. "It’s an entire system."

Before the horror could settle in fully, the lights above them flickered.

Once.

Twice.

Then a distorted voice crackled from the intercom, half human, half mechanical.

[Unauthorized presence detected... containment protocol: active.]

Metal doors across the chamber slammed shut one by one, sealing with thunderous finality.

"Run!" Richard shouted.

They sprinted down the corridor as the alarms blared and the floors vibrated under their feet. Behind them came the hiss of pressure being released, then the unmistakable sound of glass shattering.

The chambers were opening. Claws scraped metal. Something roared.

Lance fired behind them without looking. Owen grabbed Rhea’s vest and pulled her forward when she stumbled. Richard shoved open a service door, and the squad squeezed through, slamming it shut just as something slammed against the other side hard enough to dent the steel.

Silence settled after a moment, heavy and trembling.

Rhea collapsed to her knees, gasping. "We’re trapped... we’re actually trapped down here."

Richard didn’t lie. "Maybe. But we have a map now. And we’re still breathing. That means we move."

Lance let out a breath that was half a laugh, half despair. "If we make it out of here, drinks on me."

Richard didn’t answer. The blood smeared across his knuckles trembled slightly. He didn’t know whose it was.

Hours passed as they followed the fragmented map deeper underground. Fear had softened into a grim awareness. The Division hadn’t just betrayed missing teams. They had betrayed every soldier who had ever worn their insignia.

The tunnels wound endlessly, passing rusted machinery, collapsed rooms, and old sleeping quarters littered with abandoned belongings. A child’s toy. A soldier’s dog tags. A journal with the last pages ripped out.

Finally, they reached a section marked C-12.

The metal doors had been melted open, edges curled like paper scorched in fire. Inside, the air was thick with dampness and a sweet, rotting smell that clung to their clothes.

"Captain," Owen whispered. "Movement."

In the far corner, something shifted. Slowly. Carefully.

Richard raised his weapon. "Identify yourself!"

A weak voice responded, "Don’t... shoot..."

They stepped closer.

A man lay slumped against the wall, hunched in pain. His body was half-transformed, skin mottled with luminescent markings, veins pulsing black and blue. His right arm was elongated, clawed. But his eyes, those were unmistakably human.

Lance knelt, voice cracking. "Captain... It’s Zyrus."

Team B’s captain.

Richard felt the ground tilt beneath him. "Zyrus... what did they do to you?"

Zyrus’s laugh was broken, hollow. "What didn’t they do? We came here thinking we were saving civilians. Rescuing test subjects. Turns out... we were the test subjects."

Rhea covered her mouth. "No. Headquarters would never..."

"They would," Zyrus snapped, his voice trembling with pain and fury. "They knew everything. They chose us. Promised strength, perfection..."

His breathing hitched.

"We became monsters instead."

Richard’s stomach twisted.

"Why?" he asked quietly. "Why would The Division do this?"

Zyrus lifted his eyes. There was no answer in them.

Only despair. And the smallest thread of hope that he wasn’t dying alone.

The Division creates monsters!