D-Animal
The black van slowed gradually, the engine's growl becoming deep and controlled—almost reverent—as it approached the dam.
It rose like a colossal monolith in the middle of nowhere—raw concrete, cracked by time and reinforced with modern metal plates, covered in sensors, antennas, and surveillance lights blinking in cold shades of blue and red. The water held back behind it formed a dark, silent lake, far too still, as if it too were being watched.
Men armed to the teeth occupied every strategic point. Watchtowers, balconies, walkways, suspended platforms. Long-range rifles tracked the van's movement, discreet lasers sweeping across its bodywork. The air smelled of burnt oil, heated metal, and static electricity—a scent that did not exist in ordinary places.
The van stopped at the first checkpoint.
A soldier approached cautiously, visor down, finger resting dangerously close to the trigger.
Jasmine lowered the window slowly.
— "Identification," the man ordered, his voice amplified by the helmet.
Jasmine replied without changing her tone.
— "Officer Jasmine Xuēlóng. Shadow Intelligence Forces."
She extended her wrist out the window.
Her D-Armilla lit up in a deep red, pulsing like a mechanical heart. The COS symbol flared for a second, accompanied by vertical codes scrolling across the soldier's visor.
The man froze.
He straightened immediately.
— "…Confirmed."
Tsuki followed suit, displaying his own D-Armilla. His did not bear the red COS, but instead showed a hybrid emblem—blue, red, and violet intertwined, forming the silhouette of a stylized shark. A special access seal, above standard military hierarchy.
— "Agent Tsuki," the soldier murmured now, his voice restrained. — "Access granted."
The barriers opened with the heavy sound of ancient gears awakening.
The van passed through.
As they advanced, Elara, Lucas, and Rafael remained unconscious in the back, sprawled across the metal floor. The air inside was cold and dry, smelling of old rust and cheap antiseptic.
The internal road of the base was uneven.
When one of the wheels rolled over a deep hole in the old asphalt, the van jolted violently.
The impact threw the bodies in the back—Rafael's shoulder slammed into the side, Elara slid several centimeters, and Lucas let out a low, unconscious groan.
None of them woke.
The van finally stopped in an area marked by yellow lines and industrial floodlights. The engine shut off. The silence that followed felt far too heavy.
Jasmine and Tsuki stepped out.
The air outside was colder, damp, carrying the constant smell of stored water mixed with old concrete. Above them, the dam cast a massive shadow, swallowing everything.
Without exchanging words, the two opened the rear of the van.
Jasmine pulled Elara out first, slinging her back over her right shoulder with ease, as if the girl's body weighed nothing at all. She then did the same with Lucas, settling him over her other shoulder.
Tsuki took Rafael, hauling him across his back, gripping him by the legs and an arm, without the slightest delicacy.
— "Let's go," Jasmine said.
They headed toward a reinforced door set into the side of the dam.
When it opened, it revealed a narrow entrance leading downward.
Far downward.
The descent began.
Seven flights of stairs, each colder and more suffocating than the last. Concrete walls sweated moisture, thin streams of water running down them. Industrial lamps hung from the ceiling, some flickering, casting warped shadows.
The smell changed.
Dried blood. Old fear. Rust. Too many people in too little space.
When they reached the final flight, the sound became clear.
Whispers.
Held breaths.
The faint creak of chains.
The underground space opened before them like a human anthill. Long corridors, cells aligned on both sides, thick bars. People sitting on the floor, others lying down, some pacing in circles like caged animals.
When Jasmine entered carrying two unconscious bodies, the effect was immediate.
The murmuring stopped.
Eyes widened.
Some shrank back against the walls of their cells. Others lowered their heads, pretending not to see. Her name did not need to be spoken there—everyone knew who she was.
Tsuki opened an empty cell with a quick motion of his hand.
— "Here."
They threw the three inside.
Elara and Lucas were placed on the lower bunks of metal frames fixed in opposite corners of the cell. Rafael was dropped onto the top bunk above Lucas, the thin mattress creaking under his weight.
Jasmine gave them one last look.
The girl was still filthy with soot, dried blood staining her clothes, light hair stuck to her face. Even unconscious, there was something about her that did not seem fragile.
Tsuki closed the door.
The dry click of the lock echoed through the corridor like a muffled gunshot.
He spun the keys around his index finger, the metal clinking almost casually, and began to walk away, whistling an old tune—something far too misplaced for that place.
Jasmine followed without looking back.
The heavy door of the underground sector slammed shut behind them with a dull boom.
The silence lasted only a few seconds.
Then a collective exhale rippled through the corridor.
The people in the cells began moving again, now looking at the newcomers. Some curious. Others fearful. Others evaluating.
Elara, Lucas, and Rafael remained unconscious.
But down there, everyone knew one thing:
No one entered that place by accident.
And whoever entered… Either became part of the SIF or never left again.
Elara drew a deep breath, trying to ignore the uncomfortable pressure behind her eyes. The white, artificial light did not come from a single source—several spotlights were installed irregularly along the ceiling, some vibrating slightly, others flickering out of sync. It wasn't a maintenance failure.
It was deliberate.
She narrowed her bicolored eyes, feeling the burning intensify as she forced her vision to adapt.
— "Too much light…" she murmured to herself, moistening her cracked lips. The air was dry and heavy, carrying a metallic scent mixed with old sweat and cheap disinfectant.
Elara slowly turned her body, analyzing the environment as if assembling an invisible puzzle. Thick bars. Long corridors. Too many people, all exhausted—some looking back with curiosity, others with empty indifference.
She went to Lucas first.
— "Lucas…" she called softly, shaking her brother's shoulder. Nothing. — "Lucas, wake up…"
The boy didn't react, not even with a groan. His chest rose and fell steadily, but his face was far too pale for her liking.
Elara let out a short breath.
— "Of course…" she murmured. "You were always the first to pass out…"
She stepped away and turned to Rafael. Since he was on the top bunk, Elara planted a foot on Lucas's mattress and climbed carefully, using her own body as leverage to reach him.
— "Hey. Wake up," she said, firmer now, shaking his shoulder.
Rafael answered with a rough groan, bringing a hand to his head.
— "Fuck…" he muttered, blinking several times as his brain tried to reorganize itself.
When his eyes focused, it was almost instant.
He rolled off the bunk and landed on his feet, tense, shoulders rigid, gaze sweeping the surroundings in a second.
— "Where are we?" he asked, already clenching his fists.
Before Elara could answer, a tired voice came from the adjacent cell.
— "Underground cells of the SIF."
Elara turned toward the voice. An older man leaned against the bars, arms crossed, his expression marked by deep circles under his eyes and a fatigue that came from far more than lack of sleep.
— "Thank you," she said, sincerely.
The man simply nodded, without much energy.
Rafael, meanwhile, looked at his wrist.
The D-Armilla was there… but inert.
— "There's a jammer," he snarled, running a finger over the metal surface. — "I can't call anyone."
— "Me neither," Elara replied, testing her own D-Armilla and feeling only the dead feedback of a locked system.
Rafael's jaw tightened.
Without warning, he kicked the cell bars hard.
The metallic crash echoed through the corridor, making some people flinch inside their cells. Others didn't react at all—they had heard that sound too many times.
— "That won't help," the man in the next cell muttered. — "Believe me, I've tried."
Rafael turned his head toward him, eyes cold.
— "Didn't ask for your opinion."
The man sighed, ignoring the tone.
— "Malik Leonhart," he introduced himself. — "Seven months down here. One of the first to be taken."
Elara blinked, surprised.
— "Seven months…?" she repeated, absorbing the information. — "I'm Elara. This is my brother, Lucas."
She gestured lightly toward the unconscious boy.
Rafael said nothing. He simply turned away, sat where Elara had been lying earlier, and ran his hands over his face, rubbing hard.
— "Great," he muttered with a dry, irritated laugh. — "Didn't get arrested by the military. Got kidnapped by a stupid organization that works in the shadows."
He clicked his tongue in indignation.
Elara shrugged, pacing a few steps inside the cell, observing the environment more carefully.
— "These lights…" she began, discreetly pointing toward the ceiling. — "They're not here just to illuminate."
Malik raised an eyebrow, interested.
— "Explain."
— "Constant lighting, too intense, with irregular variations," she said calmly, almost didactic. — "That causes neural stress. Headaches. Reverse sensory deprivation. In weaker people… it can trigger seizures. Epilepsy. Mental collapse."
She took a deep breath.
— "They want some of us to break on our own."
Malik stared at her for a few seconds before letting out a short, humorless laugh.
— "Sharp observation. But it doesn't change anything. Knowing that won't get us out of here."
Rafael let out a low grunt.
— "You talk too much," he said to the older man. — "Mind your own business."
Malik merely shrugged, used to it.
Elara, on the other hand, kept her gaze alert, absorbing every detail, every sound, every reaction around her.
She didn't look desperate.
She looked… calculating.
And even there, surrounded by bars, aggressive lights, and an organization that toyed with human minds, one thing was clear to anyone paying close attention:
Elara had no intention of staying trapped for long.