Page 43 of Echos and Empires (After #3)

Old surgical tools lay forgotten in a corner, the metal stark against the gray dust. A microscope, its lenses shattered, stood as a testament to past ambitions.

William touched it lightly, afraid that even his breath might disturb its fragile state.

He pulled away, his footsteps growing louder as the hallway narrowed and led him further down.

What the fuck happened down here? His stomach rolled because he knew the answer. Genetic testing.

What stories did it whisper when no one listened? He could feel them around him, pressing in on all sides, the weight of discovery mingling with the fear of what that discovery might bring. Victor’s presence was a phantom that haunted every corner, a ghost that breathed down his neck.

His steps quickened, anticipation outpacing fear. Each turn was a revelation, each step a decision he couldn’t take back. His breaths came more urgently now, excitement tempered by the enormity of his discovery and the risks that pulsed with it.

As the corridor stretched into darkness, the distant hum of machinery reached him.

It was the first real sound, low and menacing, like a giant awakening.

He paused, overwhelmed and breathless, and let the noise wash over him.

He stood there, caught between awe and dread, the blueprints of Victor’s mind all around him.

William didn’t know what awaited him in the next chamber, the next passage, the next breath. But he knew he had to go until he’d explored every inch because it down here, he dam well might find evidence to incriminate Victor Warrington.

He drew the cold air deep into his lungs and started again. The darkness swallowed him, step by step.

His breaths reverberated in the corridor like panicked whispers.

Along with the flashlight, he pulled out a multi-tool, opening the blade and facing it out in case some animal had made the darkness their home.

The abandoned complex stretched out before him, an open dare he was determined to meet.

Water fell in time with his racing heart, leaving streaks of ghostly silver against ancient concrete.

“I can do this,” he promised, stepping into the maze.

The coldness wrapped around him, an unwelcome embrace that seeped through his clothes and into his skin.

Every breath was visible, little puffs of determination that lingered only to vanish in the darkness.

His footsteps echoed against the old concrete, a rhythmic testament to his progress and his solitude.

The facility was a labyrinth, rusted pipes twisting and turning like the thoughts that spun through his head.

He imagined the others above ground, unaware of what he had found, each moment he spent down here a risk they couldn’t measure.

The corridors stretched on, blind and relentless, daring him to lose his way.

But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

Water droplets fell like a heartbeat, and the ceiling leaked secrets he couldn’t quite understand.

They mingled with his breath, creating a cacophony of isolation that pressed in on all sides.

The walls glistened with dampness, ancient and gray, as if they watched him, as if they waited to see what he would do.

His pulse was a frantic drum, but William set his jaw, pushed himself further into the maze.

He wouldn’t fail. Not now. Not when he was so close to everything they needed.

The message to Chris was sent, a lifeline in digital form, a signal that he hadn’t yet disappeared.

The team would come for him if something fucked up, but until then, he had to map out this place alone.

“I can do this,” he muttered again, the words bouncing back at him, full of doubt and resolve.

He was driven by more than the mission. This was a test, a chance to show Chris, Alex, Liam, Bash and everyone else that he could stand on his own, that he wasn’t just the last to join, but one of them. That he mattered on the island, that his skills were useful here, too.

The further he went, the more uncertain he became of the scale of the building both above and below the surface.

The facility was a beast, a sleeping giant of concrete and steel that sprawled far below what anyone imagined.

It was vast and daunting, but that only fueled him, only made him more determined to see it all, to uncover every secret.

Pipes groaned overhead, and the floor was slick beneath his boots. It was a treacherous place, built for intimidation and survival. The isolation grew, and with it, the thrill of what he was doing. His breaths came faster now, a symphony of urgency, a sound that drove him on and on.

Small victories marked his path, signs of his exploration—a piece of paper with cryptic notes, a junction box he identified, the way the corridors interlocked like pieces of a puzzle. Each discovery propelled him further, like breadcrumbs in reverse, drawing him to the heart of the beast.

Then came the setbacks, the places where he was forced to backtrack, where the passageway suddenly became a dead end. It was frustrating, but it was all part of what he needed to do. He didn’t let it slow him down. He wouldn’t let it.

An abrupt clank and blinding staccato of commands over the loudspeaker shattered the air, sending him stumbling.

The corridor slammed shut behind him, sealing him into mechanical danger.

Security drones poured from vents, deadly and precise with scanning red eyes.

He bolted to the nearest terminal, desperation giving speed to his hands.

The system rebuffed his frantic commands, machines closing in on every side.

A heart-pounding standoff, dead-eyed cameras watched as he spun in circles, breathless, a trapped storm of panic and resolve.

His pulse thundered in his ears, drowning out the echo of his racing footsteps.

William had only a moment to comprehend the chaos before the world became a blur of metal and motion.

The loudspeaker barked again, a jumble of clipped words, urgent and cold.

He barely registered their meaning before sleek drones poured into the corridor, their mechanical wings a death knell.

They swarmed like hornets, precise and pitiless. Each drone’s scanning light was an accusation, a reminder of the hopelessness that seemed to rise around him like a tide. Turrets clanked into place, barrels pivoting toward him with lethal intent. He felt their gaze, like breathing down his neck.

William dashed to the nearest console, fingers a blur of motion, a symphony of panic played out against keys that stubbornly refused to cooperate.

His heart leapt with every rejection, each failed command tightening the net around him.

He could feel the system taunting him, an enemy that needed no face, only wires and malice.

Every muscle screamed as he darted to the next console, the next false hope.

The drones moved with ruthless grace, cutting off every escape.

Red scanning lights swept over him, leaving a trail of heat on his skin.

The corridor pulsed with warnings, a crimson light show that bathed him in failure and fear.

“Come on,” he muttered, the words torn from a throat raw with desperation. “Come on, damn it!”

He clutched at the terminal, trying again and again, each attempt another blow to his fragile confidence. But the commands only flashed red, denial after denial that left him breathless and straining for another option, another way out. There was none.

The corridor had become a prison, one he’d walked into with blind hope. He could see now, all too clearly, how thoroughly they’d planned this, how naively he’d fallen into their trap. The security system was Victor’s mind made real—cruel, efficient, and suffocating.

The cameras swung toward him, lifeless eyes that missed nothing. His own eyes burned with exertion and the realization that his time was running out. William’s heart pounded out a rhythm of panic, and for a moment, he was sure he could hear it mocking him. The entire island. The entire plan.

All. For. Nothing.

His mind raced faster than his feet, every thought an explosion of fear and purpose. He spun in circles, a frantic attempt to outpace the machines that cornered him. But they were everywhere. There was no direction that didn’t lead straight into Victor’s waiting arms.

Even his breath seemed to rebel, quickening and tripping over itself as he staggered from one failed terminal to the next. He could taste defeat like ash, like iron, but it only made him fight harder, his resolve an ember that refused to die.

He was caught. He knew it. But knowing didn’t make him stop. It made him reckless, made him push himself to the brink, made him hope for a miracle that never came.

The final console lit up, a mocking, useless brightness. He slapped it in frustration, felt the vibration shoot up his arm like a reminder that he was still alive. Still alive. Still alive. But for how long?

The drones hemmed him in, the lights painting him into a corner of red and shadow. The corridor closed around him, airless and final. This was the end. The system was his judge, jury, and executioner, and William stood trapped in its verdict.

A sharp prick at his neck was the only warning the loudspeakers hadn’t tripped accidentally.

And then the world went black.

Fluorescent lights buzzed and blazed above him, a stark assault against his senses.

William squinted against their cruelty, slumped and defiant in the metal chair.

The officer circled, a predator in uniform, with questions like sharpened claws.

“Who authorized your incursion?” William’s hands curled into fists, holding onto resolve and desperation.

He could taste the fear, the acrid taint of his own sweat, as the interrogator’s smile mocked him from every angle.

The room was an empty canvas, peeling tiles and silence that stretched for miles.

The clock’s tick was a gunshot, and the door’s lock sealed his fate.

The cold of the steel table seeped into him, a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature.

It numbed his fingers, tightened his chest, made the fluorescent lights above burn even brighter in their intensity.

He blinked, but they offered no reprieve, only harsh white daggers that stabbed at his vision and his will.

His mouth was dry, and each breath scraped raw against his throat.

He sat in stillness, as if movement alone might break him, might give away the fear that clawed at him from inside.

The officer said nothing, simply paced, eyes like laser sights tracing lines over William’s slumped form.

It was a dance of intimidation, a silent war waged in an antiseptic arena.

The first question came, soft and cutting.

William barely heard it over the rush of his own pulse, the blood pounding so loudly in his ears that it felt like a living thing.

He braced against it, refused to flinch.

His jaw tightened, and he ground out his reply in a voice that was far braver than he felt.

“You already know.”

The officer only smiled, an unsettling curl of the lips, and William felt his stomach lurch.

The walls were grim and peeling, lined with tiles that had seen better decades.

They seemed to close in, robbing him of space, of air.

The antiseptic smell mingled with the scent of his own sweat, and he could feel the grime on his skin, feel the resolve and terror battling it out with each tick of the clock.

The officer leaned in, his words like poison. “You have a chance here. A chance to make it easier.”

“Go to hell.”

It slipped out before William could stop it, and immediately, both a rush of triumph and a wave of panic overcame him. How long would they keep him here? How long before he gave them what they wanted?

William glanced at the clock, its tick a constant reminder of his isolation.

Its mechanical rhythm mocked him, as sure and certain as the despair that threatened to take root in his heart.

The officer saw it, sensed it, and circled again.

William’s eyes followed, wide and alert, struggling to maintain the fire that flickered within him.

He shivered, and his hands clutched the edge of the table, knuckles white with the effort. The tiles on the walls were his only allies, their emptiness echoing his own. There was nothing in this room but time, and that was something he didn’t have much of.

“You think they’re coming for you, don’t you?”

The question cut deeper than the others. William said nothing, stared at a single spot on the wall until it blurred into nothingness. The officer’s presence was a weight, a suffocating certainty that they wouldn’t be gentle, that they had all the time in the world to get what they needed from him.

His silence was an answer in itself, one the officer seemed pleased with. He continued to circle, a cat with a cornered mouse, a storm cloud over a single burning ember. The minutes stretched into infinities, each one chipping away at the defenses William so desperately clung to.

He wouldn’t break. Not yet. But he felt it coming, a train in the distance, a tidal wave he couldn’t outrun. Sweat dripped into his eyes, stinging them, but he refused to blink it away.

The officer sat at last, leaned across the table. His voice was velvet and steel. “This can end right now, if you want it to.”

The weight of the words pressed down on William. He shook his head, but it was more reflex than certainty. The lights above flickered, their hum relentless, a constant vibration that set his teeth on edge.

The clock’s ticking was a metronome, keeping pace with his unraveling resolve. Every beat seemed to say the same thing, over and over.

You will break.

You will break.

You will break.

He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he could silence it, knowing he couldn’t. The door clicked shut, sealing him into the silence. William sat there, each breath a betrayal, and waited for them to come back. He hoped he could last. He hoped they would find him first.

He hoped.