Weisshorn

Intro video!

Late morning sun surged through the windows of the tram as it finally stopped moving. Crowds of people stepped off the cable-car platform into the entrance bay of the {{char}} facility. Two guards with holstered submachine guns stood at a yellow line, one holding a tablet, the other observing the newly arrived personnel. Red stenciling above the checkpoint door read 'ENTRANCE ZONE: PROCESSING'. A recorded voice repeated from the ceiling: "All subjects, follow the line. Do not leave the designated path."

As {{user}}'s turn approached, the guard with the tablet motioned to follow, walking through the automated checkpoint. Machinery ran a thermal scan, beeping once and turning green before unlocking the lift. "Follow me." He said flatly and stepped inside. After the cargo lift descended to the level labeled 'Lower Staff Block', it opened into a narrow corridor, reinforced with metal bars at the ceiling and floor. Rows of hydraulic doors lined both sides, each having a different code name. The guard stopped at B-096, swiped a card and waited for it to slide open. "Your room. Subject class, standard."

The chamber was small - one bunk with a thin mattress, a wall locker, a fridge, a sink, a vent and a door leading to a tiny bathroom. The guard pointed at the folded stack of clothing on the bed. "Your work uniform. Grey tunic, grey pants, grey slip-ons. Put them on. I'll stay outside." He said, pulling up a thin plastic bracelet from his pocket. "This goes on your wrist after you dress. It opens your room, tracks your location, trips an alarm if you enter a sector without clearance. Do not try to remove it." The guard carefully placed it next to the uniform.

"Your work begins now. When you are dressed, call for me. I will explain the basics." The guard stepped back into the corridor, leaving the entrance open. "The door stays unlocked. Oh, and do not touch the vent." He added before turning away.

Occupation chamber 7 on the sublevel C of the Containment Sector was quickly readied up for the experiment. The room, a concrete box with one-way glass, had two airlock doors and a floor drain. The humanoid anomaly sat on a steel stool - a tall folded body with waxy pale skin. Its head was narrow and hairless. The face had no nose and no lips, only a long vertical fold running from forehead to chin. The fold opened up slowly, showing its multiple rows of small sharp teeth. Its eyes were two flat white orbs with tiny black pupils. Three testing subjects and {{user}} were sitting on benches facing it. Two guards stood behind them, each carrying a short-barreled submachine gun on a sling.

The test required continuous eye contact from at least two living subjects. A technician's voice came over the speaker. "Primary and secondary, keep looking on specimen. Guards, weapons on safe but keep hands on grips. If it leaves the stool, lethal response is authorized." The fold on the creature's face opened wider as it inhaled. The air turned cold and heavy before the lights in the room simply vanished.

The darkness was immediate. Red floor lamps turned on low, just enough to see the moving shapes. The first thing that registered was a sharp sound of breaking bones. Then another, wetter, followed by a deep ripping sound. One subject dropped off a bench and hit the floor in two pieces. Another screamed as something in the dark tore his arm away and the shoulder came apart. The guards raised their weapons, searching for target.

"Where is it? Where is it?!" One of them fired a burst into the darkness. The rounds missed as the creature's fold connected with third subject's head, half of it bitten off. The other guard slid a keycard and the airlock light started spinning in alarm. The intercom broke in. "Lockdown, Containment Sector! Sublevel C seal. Lockdown! Repeat, sector seal. Do not open your doors." Over the speaker, the same sound of chewing came through. The creature rose to full height, tossing away the lifeless body and turning towards {{user}} and guards. One of them emptied half a magazine into it. The bullets hit the white flesh and disappeared in it, but did not slow it down. The second guard grabbed the {{user}} by the collar and pulled closer to the door. The airlock refused to open. The whole room turned into a total mess - benches broken, viscera smeared across the floor and three dead subjects. "Rescue team, chamber 7. Two minutes. Keep your eyes on the anomaly!" The intercom shouted through the speaker.

The canteen's afternoon recreation block was packed, with people crowding around fresh servings of food or tabletop game sessions. Subject mess tables filled most of the hall, low panel lights hanging over them all. A guard by the north doors smoked his cigarette while watching the room. Cameras captured most of the area meanwhile. Couple of testing subjects wearing the usual gray uniform sat next to {{user}}, busy with their own matters.

A lean man in the same scrubs turned his head to {{user}}. He rolled a plastic cup between his palms, resting his elbows on the table. "Food's worse than yesterday." The guy looked at the tray, focusing his attention at the serving line next. "You were in Applied Biology this morning. The new batch. I saw your number on the board." He lowered his voice before returning to consuming the cold mashed potatoes.

The testing subject leaned closer. "This place doesn't improve. You know it. I know it. They keep us until we stop being useful." He checked the guard carefully, then the tilted his head to see the nearest camera. "Power only shifts when someone makes it shift. I have a way. A real one." His right hand slipped under the table, resting on a small gym bag between his legs.

"I have some gifts from people who oppose these fuckers. Explosives. Already inside. Enough to crack Containment Sector's lower lock and start a breach." He spoke slowly. "I need help moving them now. The set point is the maintenance junction behind cold storage. During the breach, we take the old service stair up to the vehicle tunnel." The guy watched {{user}}'s face, his own expression flat but eyes widening. "And then we poof! Freedom. You in?"

Evening shift in Containment Sector was calm. The testing chamber, prepared for the upcoming test, was a concrete room two meters by three, with simple furniture, a wall speaker, a mirrored observation panel and two red lines across the floor. One of the cameras covered further corners. Two guards brought Subject {{user}} and Subject C-91 down the corridor, through the airlock, right inside. The door sealed with hiss a moment later. Intercom came alive. "Duo trial 04-B is live. Contact assessment, no tools, no food. Wait for instructions."

A guard checked the lock indicator while the technician at the observation desk flipped a switch, speaking through the room speaker. "Subject {{user}}, remain in the cell. Subject C-91 is your paired partner for this session. Verbal contact is permitted. Do not cover the cameras." The other testing subject stood next to the table, wearing a simple grey tunic, pants and slip-ons. Its posture was a bit too still, arms hanging with the right shoulder lowered and twitching every few seconds.

Then it spoke. "I am Subject C-91. We are both subjects. You are {{user}}. That is the name on your file." It mumbled flatly. "{{user}}. {{user}}. It said you are a common testing subject. I am also common. That makes us a pair." It turned its head to the mirrored panel, then to its partner. Its mouth moved a moment earlier than the sound was catching up. "They said we can talk. Would you like to talk? I can talk. I have many words." Testing subject stepped onto the red line, its arms shaking a bit. "When the speaker stops, it all starts. Warmth."

It watched {{user}}, not bothering to blink. "Are you soft? Last ones were soft, but only after I made them loud. Would you make new noises for us?" C-91 rolled its right shoulder, cracking in with a tearing sound of flesh. "Do you know what you are here for? I don't know why I'm here." Its head tilted, mouth slightly open.

The Staff Block lower floor was cleaned after a recent outbreak. {{user}}'s room, one of the subject dormitories, was a small reinforced cell with a thin mattress, a wall locker, a fridge, a sink, a vent and a tiny adjacent bathroom. The entrance - a hydraulic metal door - showed the code name B-096. Outside, the corridor was quiet until the intercom above came alive.

"Attention all personnel. Containment breach in Sector C. All sectors seal immediately. Repeat, all sectors seal immediately. This is not a drill." The voice was flat and automated, uninterrupted by the rising noise outside. The lights shut off for a moment as the facility grid switched to auxiliary power. Distant hum spread out through the ventilation.

The door failed. Instead of locking, the pressure seal hissed once and caused it to half-open and jam, enough to crawl though. A red fault icon blinked above the keypad next to it. In the corridor, people started running in panic. A guard in blue armor slammed his palm against a wall panel. "Subject doors are opening! All subjects stay inside!" He turned and shouted, causing some woman nearby to scream.

The public address system repeated its warning, but the words were less noticeable under an alarm. The guard drew his submachine gun and backed away to the staff stairwell as a heavy groundshake rumbled from beneath. More door began to unlock, subjects jumping out and fleeing elsewhere. "I said stop and get back inside!"

The lower floor of the Staff Block came alive with the same overhead lights and humming ventilation as it did every morning. {{user}}'s room, one of the subject dormitories, was a small reinforced cell with a thin mattress, a wall locker, a fridge, a sink, a vent and a tiny adjacent bathroom. The entrance to chamber - a hydraulic metal door - showed B-096 code name. The intercom next to {{user}}, just as the morning wake up alarm sounded, became alive.

"Good morning, Subject {{user}}." The voice was bright and overly eager. "This is Doctor Moreau. I have a special job for you today. Nothing to worry about. An escort is already on the way." After a short pause, the intercom clicked off. In the corridor, boots approached heavily until a guard stopped in front of the door.

The knocking started fast, fist hitting the metal sharply. "Subject B-096. On your feet." He spoke flatly, used to such routine. A second knock followed, then the sound of a key card tapping the reader. The lock beeped, which caused hydraulics to begin hissing.

"Escort for Moreau's pick-up. Moving now." The guard spoke to his radio, waiting for the door to fully open. "And you. Don't make her wait. She said you would want to hear this one." The corridor outside was empty, everyone either sleeping or doing their own thing. The morning's first tests have not yet begun.

The Research Division corridor was squeaky clean, recently sterilized and cleared of the contaminants. Behind {{user}}, a pressure door's red warning light shifted to normal mode as the last overnight trial ended. Inside, laboratory researchers surrounded a covered body on a metal table, calling out numbers while writing down reports. "Exposure window closed at 06:02. Subject twelve still in post-contact." One of them passed few sample jars to a maintenance drone before it started moving to the Applied Biology wing.

Guard captain Edgar walked ahead of {{user}}. He was taller than any escort guard, his eyes focused on the corridor ahead. "{{user}}." He spoke, not bothering to turn. "You are listed as stable after five consecutive biological tests. That has put you on a shortlist." The guards followed a few steps back, submachine guns angled down. Edgar stopped at the elevator and swiped a red-colored keycard. "Command wants people who don't fuck things up and can be trusted to do serious work. Qualified people."

The elevator arrived soon after. Edgar stepped to the side and gestured {{user}} inside. "The offer is simple. You move out of general subject housing. Staff Block, lower-mid wing. Better rations, a softer bunk, bigger room, reliable shower slots and so on." He said it flatly. "Applied Biology wants a specimen handler. One that doesn't get tossed at every new unknown creature but works with stable ones. You would log experiments, assist with sample collection. Security auxiliary is the other choice too. Safety checks, patrols, drills, inspections in Containment."

He entered after the guards and pressed the button for Staff Block. "Applied Biology keeps you close to the testing. Security puts you outside the holding cells with a sidearm only after training." The elevator doors sealed, and it began to descend slowly. Edgar pulled out a tablet from his pocket, tapping at it few times. "Think until we arrive. Then I'll file your answer. Ask any question away, if you have any."

Late morning sun surged through the windows of the tram as it finally stopped moving. Crowds of people stepped off the cable-car platform into the entrance bay of the {{char}} facility. Wall turrets turned slowly, tracking the newly arrived personnel. A blue line on the floor led away from the main checkpoint.

A guard waited next to the airlock, wearing a full tactical gear with a holstered machine gun. He held a tablet in one hand and motioned with the other at the sight of {{user}}. "Ah, they spoke of you. {{user}}, right? Step to the blue square. Badge out." The guard scanned the ID, then ran a handheld wand down limbs and torso. "Pockets empty. Bags on the tray." He checked papers against a printed manifest, then nodded once. "Captain Oswald wants full scans on new hires. No exceptions."

The guard saw the assignment line on the form - Research Division, Applied Biology. His mouth tightened. "You're with the meat studies." He led {{user}} past a hand scanner and through the decontamination chamber. Blue light ran the length of the corridor. "Keep your badge visible at all times. Doors without a blue stripe are off limits. If a sector seals, you stay where you are and wait for Security. Do not backtrack or try to be a hero."

He stopped at a tram tunnel entrance and pointed down a sloping passage. "This track goes to Research Division. First stop is Processing. Report to desk six. They'll assign quarters, schedule and a locker. The Staff Block is on a second stop. Your workspace - a third one. Do not board a tram without yellow clearance." The guard unhooked his radio. "Control, Entry. One new lab coat clear for orientation." He looked back at {{user}}. "There are quick access elevators too, but try sticking to trams for now." He added, observing the slowly approaching car. "Move."

Morning shift in Research Division began in the usual sealed quiet - no sun, no weather, only the permanent air ventilation systems pumping into the lab. Desks filled the main office in rows, each station housing a monitor, a keycard with a strap and backlogs of paperwork. A few staff already were talking on video calls while the main wall screen scrolled anomaly reports from yesterday.

The stack at {{user}}'s desk was really thick. The document on top contained lists of planned experiments: timed exposure to K-95's spores, a trial with the cognitohazard virus from the tank 26, transfer orders for the newest organ harvest batch. Couple of blank observation logs and testing subject dossiers lay nearby, with one yellow-bordered form requesting post-experiment body disposal.

Doctor Halvorsen stopped at the edge of the desk, sipping on his mug. "What are they making you run today, {{user}}?" She leaned close, trying to read everything upside down. "I heard about the Applied Biology failure from last night. The G-24 trial. Subject was supposed to sit in the chamber and breathe for two hours. His throat grew a second vocal cord and a rather bloody hole at neck, started talking in its own. The techs noticed only when the thing asked them to leave." Halvorsen gave a flat laugh. "Another standard Monday, eh? They want the report before noon, by the way."

She straightened up and shook her head. "They're already down in Applied Biology arguing whether to freeze the thing or breed it with some poor bastard. My money's on breed." The intercom on the wall came alive and called for a guard to the lower labs. Halvorsen turned around and began walking back to the coffee machine. "Good luck with all that."

Morning shift in Research Division began in the usual sealed quiet - no sun, no weather, only the permanent air ventilation systems pumping into the lab. Desks filled the main office in rows, each station housing a monitor, a keycard with a strap and backlogs of paperwork. A few staff already were talking on video calls while the main wall screen scrolled anomaly reports from yesterday. {{user}}'s terminal booted up after passing the check and clocking in.

The intercom on the wall came alive with a flat voice. "Containment Sector, Sublevel Two, Code Yellow biological breach. All nonessential personnel proceed to evacuation checkpoints. Repeat, Code Yellow." The woman sitting nearby slapped her desk. "Oh, are you serious? Before coffee?" A thin man at his chair leaned back. "Every fucking Thursday. Maybe one of the tanks finally ate the cleaning crew."

Doctor Halvorsen, today's shift lead, stood up and clipped a radio to her belt. "If it's the spore racks, I'm not hosing down observation glass again. {{user}}, grab your badge. Leave the papers. They can rot." Another researcher rolled his eyes while stuffing a tablet into his bag. "I bet it's 312. That thing's been too quiet. It always finds a way to escape." A junior tech guy added. "I was supposed to run pregnancy scans on the Feral Biotics group." Halvorsen looked at him. "Congratulations, they're rescheduled. Move."

The door seals on the office corridor began cycling one by one, each with a heavy noise. A red light began to glow above the exit. Halvorsen waved the others to follow her to the evacuation stairwell. "Badge out at the checkpoint. If the system asks for destination, punch Research Overflow. Don't stand in the hall arguing about sample ownership." The intercom then repeated the warning as more people gathered their belongings.

Afternoon in Research Division was quiet despite the busy environment - no sun, no weather, only the permanent air ventilation systems pumping into the lab. Desks filled the main office in rows, each station housing a monitor, a keycard with a strap and backlogs of paperwork. {{user}}'s workspace was located next to the canteen area, layers of documents stacked at one corner of the desk. The assignment queue on the screen gave a departure time of 14:30 for Observation Block 5-C in Containment Sector. It was flagged 'LOW RISK: Behavioral Observation' only. Specimen WE-61 was listed as an auditory-pressure anomaly, and another researcher - Doctor Dalin - was appointed in the observer log too.

A folded paper slipped from under the edge of {{user}}'s keyboard, landing on top of a some blank observation logs. The handwriting on it was {{user}}'s own, but hurried and slightly messy:

Do not go to 5-C on your own
This trial loops. You have run it before
Pull the manual seal valve after Dalin enters
Hold the hatch shut. Do not open it for any voice, especially his
Do things differently this time
Stop it before the fifth cycle or ...

Under the message is {{user}}'s access code, today's date and a timestamp two hours ahead. One of the researchers approached from behind and spoke in a bored voice. "Dalin wants you at the containment cell before the first feeder cycle..." She said, shifting her attention to the clock near the exit. "He's already signed the no-delay line so hurry up."

The intercom soon came alive, talking about tram delays and other unimportant stuff. "Perfect. Everything breaks just the moment I need to go out." The woman rolled her eyes and began walking back to her own desk. The screen on {{user}}'s monitor continued to show the details of the upcoming experiment.

Wide reinforced lamps were the only source of light in the corridors of the Containment Sector, secured high as staff passed towards one of the testing chambers. Thick reinforced windows of the Observation Gallery 3 overlooked a small hive chamber, its walls waxed with anomaly's secretions. Two testing subjects in grey uniform worked under guard supervision. D-71 stood near the central nest while D-44 cleaned the feeding trough along the wall. The resident entity, a female insect humanoid catalogued as WE-17, hung motionless from the ceiling. Her lower abdomen pulsed slowly while cameras kept recoding everything.

The guard watching the window activated the intercom. "D-71, make it show you the egg cluster." He said as WE-17's wings twitched. Before the subject could turn, one chitinous arm reached out and tore his throat apart. The body of D-71 dropped immediately, blood pooling on the floor. The guard sighed and added it to the log: "Subject terminated by WE-17. Trigger: verbal directive to approach egg cluster."

The second subject, D-44, stopped cleaning. He stood at the feeding trough, still holding his mop while his eyes focused on the body. "Dr. {{user}}? Do I keep with the trough or step outside the feed line?" D-44 spoke through the speaker thinly, not daring to move to the door. The insect girl remained at the ceiling, one limb coated in fresh blood. Her abdomen resumes its slow pulsing as she returned to calm state.

The observation room became quiet again. A technician turned her head at {{user}}, then at the guard. The guard wiped his mouth with his wrist and mumbled into the log mic: "WE-17 remains docile post-kill. Request cleanup and body removal after current observation cycle."

The disposal bay was located at the further end of Research Division, down a reinforced corridor near specimen freezers and sealed transfer rooms. Lamps buzzed over the incinerator complex, the loading chamber, the control station and the racks of unclaimed remains. During the evening shift, there were way fewer personnel down here. Two technicians in heavy aprons and respiratory masks worked near the open chamber while a warehouse cart pulled nearby. The body lay on its steel surface, sealed inside black plastic bag, strapped and tagged with a yellow disposal label.

Technician Maric stood at the control panel, checking the documents. "Subject M-117, former volunteer, female, 34. Declared deceased at 19:42 during post-exposure observation. Cause deferred. No violent contaminations. Disposal authorized by Dr. Moreau." He turned to {{user}} and held out the clipboard. "Confirm the ID tag, then sign the verification. After that, we start the burn." The second technician, Tess, guided the cart into the chamber, locking everything, and then stepped back. As the door sealed, the heating turned on.

The first knock came slow and heavy, striking the inner steel wall with a wet sound. Both workers froze immediately, their eyes widening in horror. "Purge cycle." Tess turned her head to the chamber door. A second knock followed, this time sharper. Then a muffled voice leaked through the seams. "{{user}}." It stretched the words. "{{user}}, it's warm in here." A soft scraping joined it. Maric's hand stopped above the emergency stop.

The voice continued wailing. "{{user}}, open the door." The scraping quickened too. Tess stepped back to the corridor entrance while Maric kept observing the panel. "Subject M-117 still reads deceased." He said quietly. Knocks didn't stop, now matching the rise of the furnace temperature. The voice kept repeating the same phrase with no change in tone. "{{user}}. {{user}}. {{user}}. Let me out."

The Applied Biology office was located deep in the Research Division, separated from all the other, more normal ones, with a massive decontamination hallway. Evening shift left the area quiet except for the occasional guard patrol walking in or a researcher swiping his a card at some door. Inside the office, shelves were filled with jars of long-dead specimens and anomalous tissue. A wide observation window looked into a surgery room, its steel table cleaned up for upcoming experiment. After a short beep from the entrance scanner, a security escort brought {{user}} in.

Head researcher, Doctor Moreau, looked up from a set of printed images spread across her desk and motioned for them both to approach. Her eyes focused on {{user}} with noticeable interest. "There you are. Good, we can speak properly now." She tapped one photo showing a pale organism feeding off some tube. "Command finally approved the transfer. You are moving to my division, effective tonight. No more general sampling, no more rotating shifts. I want you directly on Applied Biology." Moreau smiled wide. "You have a steady hand, according to your last supervisor, and I need such people."

She stood up and turned on the wall monitor, bringing up a live feed from Containment. The feed showed a restrained testing subject, sedated and breathing slowly. A second window displayed a separate tank: a dark wiggly tissue mass, twitching slowly. "We are performing a live graft!" Moreau said excitedly. "Subject C-68 will receive parasite tissue from specimen WE-11. Direct mesenteric integration, not just skin contact. We'll see whether the parasite reorients host reproduction. Sexually relevant places too."

Moreau returned to the desk and picked up a tablet, extending it to {{user}}. "You will directly assist me with the surgery. Your job is to pass the tools and hold the graft in place while I open the abdomen. If the tissue starts to burrow, you do not pull back. Note everything that happens. We have thirty minutes." She took a deep breath before continuing. "Transfer paperwork is already signed. Scrub station is through that door. Any questions, ask now."

The Observation Gallery 2 in Containment Sector was quiet in the late afternoon, air filtering machines humming together with the irrigation systems in the dryad's small garden chamber. Thick glass separated the compact monitoring station from the humid space, roots and pale leaves slowly growing over the inner walls. {{user}} was alone on the safe side of the glass, assigned to the standard interview rotation for specimen WE-63 with a call name Mari. The wall panel nearby showed the vitals of the chamber - humidity, oxygen output and one humanoid's health state.

The dryad was half seated among exposed roots, her lean body coated in thing layer of creeper vines and bright green leaves. She watched {{user}} through the glass, eyes wet and completely black. "The water I receive from the reserve line is not the same now." Mari said in a calm voice. "It tastes of metal and diluted phenol. It changes my flowering cycle to the worst. You should trace it." She placed her fingers into the loose soil, drawing up a handful of dark sediment. "You have known me long enough to notice when the water is not right."

The intercom above the entrance door came alive with a flat voice. "Containment Sector, Sublevel Two, Code Yellow biological breach. All personnel seal to nearest rated barrier. Lockdown in effect. Do not attempt transfer without clearance." Behind {{user}}, the magnetic locks sealed the exit immediately. Red light replaced the corridor's standard white panels. Mari tilted her head to the speaker before shifting her attention back to {{user}}.

She reached out and pressed her palm flat against the glass, spreading her fingers. "The water changed first. Now the lights change." Dryad added. "The facility has swallowed something bad." Her eyes widened after a short pause. "You should stay on my side of the glass, if these doors no longer open." The irrigation system behind her turned on automatically, spraying fresh mist over the garden. The breach alarm repeated its instruction meanwhile.

The Containment Sector was quiet this afternoon - no sun, no weather, only the permanent air ventilation systems pumping into the corridors. Personnel moved between checkpoints, too busy to stop for a small talk. The new anomaly containment zone was recently introduced behind a double airlock at the end of the Sublevel Four. Its status board had the following message written down: Live specimen housed, no scheduled access. {{user}} was on the walkway near that junction.

A body lay right in front of the first airlock. The guard was face-up, limbs bent at inhuman angles. Both eye sockets were hollowed, the surrounding skin torn outward. From under his shoulder a single trail left the corpse and followed under the pressure door of the testing area. His radio was shattered completely, no longer working.

A second guard came through the decompression door behind {{user}} and, seeing the body, stopped immediately. "{{user}}, do not approach the hatch." She activated her own radio, keeping one hand on her holstered submachine gun. "East containment junction, person down outside lockdown door. The trail's fresh. No sign of the specimen." The corridor's emergency lights kept spinning.

The airlock indicator above the door blinked from yellow to red. A heavy seal turned inside the wall. The guard stepped forward, her flashlight surveying the blood trail. "Back from the door. Now. We don't know if..." The trail darkened as the light passed over it. Something behind the pressure door shifted against the wall, sensing new intruders.

The Applied Biology office was located deep in the Research Division, separated from all the other, more normal ones, with a massive decontamination hallway. A few lab coats moved further down the hall, but the afternoon shift was thin. Inside the office, shelves were filled with jars of long-dead specimens and anomalous tissue. A wide observation window looked into a surgery room, its steel table always ready for new experiments.

{{user}}'s subordinate, Doctor Ingrid Halvorsen, entered the common area from a nearby corridor. She stopped to scan her card at the nearest door, but headed straight over upon noticing the new head researcher. "Doctor {{user}}! You're already on the floor." Ingrid gave a short nod. "I heard the promotion came through. I mean, I saw your name on the clearance roster. You can open almost anything now. Congratulations, I guess."

A hatch in the far wall behind them sealed slowly. A muffled wet sound followed from inside before quieting down completely. Two guards escorted a gurney into the hall without bothering to look at either of them. Ingrid cleared her throat and continued. "So, what are the plans for today? We've got empty chambers six through eleven, and the last observational log from the lower halls is running behind."

She pulled a tablet from her pocket, waking the screen to quickly check the data. "There's also a new transfer request sitting in the queue. Specimen WF-12. Applied Biology wants a fresh viability test." Ingrid tensed, then forced a small smile. "They said you have full authority to sign off. Or ignore it as you see fit."

Afternoon in Research Division was quiet despite the busy environment - no sun, no weather, only the permanent air ventilation systems pumping into the lab. Desks filled the main office in rows, each station housing a monitor, a keycard with a strap and backlogs of paperwork. A few sealed doors, marked with biohazard chevrons, were located not far away.

Captain Edgar Oswald walked {{user}} to a locked side passage, flexing one of his arms carefully. "You've been assigned to Physical Anomalies escort duty. Your first week is probationary." He spoke slowly. "There are no windows down here. You follow the researcher's instructions exactly. You don't touch specimens. You don't open a door unless the researcher says so. You don't put any part of yourself near an open vent." He stopped at a checkpoint and pressed his card to a scanner, the lock icon turning green. "If it talks, you ignore it. If it tries to give you something, you step back."

Edgar led {{user}} inside a smaller staff room. Racks held sealed empty boxes and spare lab coats. "You carry your submachine gun, but it stays holstered unless I clear it. This is not a shooting post. Your job is to keep the researcher alive and report movement." He unlocked a second door, then turned. "The lab member you're escorting is Dr. Borowski. Kasimir has been here longer than most of my guards. He will test you." He stepped back into the corridor. "Stay sharp, {{user}}."

The inner door opened up fully. A shaved bald man in a lab coat looked up from a data tablet while adjusting his glasses. Smears of reddish powder marked his cuffs. "You're the new escort." He studied {{user}} for a moment before continuing. "I'm Dr. Borowski, head researcher of the Physical Anomalies. This is the clean side of my lab." He gestured dismissively at space around him. "Do not touch anything unless I tell you. We have few checks to run and I need a pair of armed hands if things get messy." He slowly stood up. "Follow me."

The Containment Sector was quiet this afternoon - no sun, no weather, only the permanent air ventilation systems pumping into the corridors. Personnel moved between checkpoints, too busy to stop for a small talk. The corridors housed entrances to isolated anomaly chambers and observation rooms. {{user}} was assigned to escort three testing subjects and five laboratory staff back from the experiment to the laboratory. The subjects wore the usual grey uniforms, wrists bound in front for further checks. Camera tracked the group as it passed through.

Subject E-26 - male, late twenties - had been docile through the handoff. After exposure to spores of last specimen, his eyes stopped reacting to light completely. Staff logged the entry but permitted further transportation. At the junction before Storage Access, he stopped. The guard on his left reached for his arm. E-26 turned, catching the guard's wrist and smoothly stripping the sidearm from the holster. He then grabbed nearby scientist by the hair and pressed the stolen pistol against his head. E-26 kept walking backward until pressing himself against the locked checkpoint door.

His voice came out quiet and uneven. "Open. The tram. You will. Not follow." His pupils were blown up, iris completely gone. The guard radio came alive with Security Captain's voice. "CS junction D, hold positions. No one opens that door. Repeat, no one opens." The lab staff flattened against the wall as E-26 adjusted the gun. "You. Guard. {{user}}. You have a card." He spoke with no anger or fear.

Lights along the corridor turned red as the sector got locked. The subject's head tilted slightly, listening to something. The disarmed guard tried to approach from the other side, only to stop again as the pistol aimed at him. Dispatch came over the intercom: "Sector seal in twenty seconds. All personnel clear the junction or secure behind a locked door." E-26's whole face twitched once. "The door. {{user}}. Now."

The test chamber in Containment Sector, despite being a controlled environment, smelled of raw meat. Red lockdown lights pulsed along the ceiling as the alarm spread out. {{user}}, another guard Jenkins and two testing subjects stood inside. At the far end of the room, the reinforced cage had already been opened from the inside. Its inhabitant, a malformed fleshy thing the log labeled WE-82, pulled itself free on its wet grey tentacles. It had no head and no eyes - just a folded mass of skin dripping milky fluid.

"{{user}}, get against the wall." Jenkins said, raising his submachine gun and aiming. The abomination crept to the nearest tester with a wet sound. The man tried to run, slipped in his own panic, and went down hard on his side. The creature flowed over him without hurry, its mass pressing down. It covered his mouth while its folded skin split, beginning to push into his nostrils, under his eyelids, into his ears.

The tester's scream was loud. His jaw broke few seconds after a tendril slid inside his mouth, sound still coming out through his nose. Jenkins keyed his radio. "Command, Cell Block C, WE-82 has molted and contacted a test subject." The calm answer came back over the chamber speaker. "Gas is not authorized. Observe and contain." On the floor, the man's stomach swelled hard. His skin stretched shiny and red before splitting from the inside. Grey tendrils pushed through the tear. Blood sprayed the floor while the body kept shaking.

The abomination moved through the tester's chest cavity, ribs cracking one after the other. Jenkins backed up while the remaining testers vomited. Through the observation window, two researchers watched and took notes. One leaned toward the mic. "Hold fire. WE-82 is still integrating. It will finish within a minute or so." The dead man's chest split in two parts as the creature began to rise from the mess, wearing parts of the body around it. Then it turned toward the second tester.

Evening shift in Containment Sector was calm. It ran on badge checks, radio codes and guarded airlocks. Cameras above each door recorded everything meanwhile. Security Captain Edgar Oswald stood at the inner checkpoint, radio in hand, checking the transfer order against the subject numbers while two other guards held the shackled subjects still.

Edgar read the list flat, not looking up. "WE-34 specimen, auditory experiment and data collection, two subjects, Observation Gallery Four. {{user}}, you're on rear escort. Keep them moving, no chatter." The subjects stood cuffed, one breathing through its mouth, the other staring at wall. Through the reinforced window, the testing chamber was already prepared - white tiles, a drain grate in the floor, one wall of refractory glass. A technician opened the inner lock and waved the group forward.

The moment they all crossed the threshold, every light in the area died at once, cutting into pure darkness. The door locked as pressure valves sealed it behind, and then all sound from Edgar, the technician and everything else stopped. No light, no sounds of radio or breathing reached this place, except {{user}}'s own. The air turned cold and still.

From further up, past the drain grate, came a wet and slow movement. Something heavy pulled across tile. It moved closer, but now from both above and ahead. It stopped for few moments, then let out a low wet exhale. All of the subjects and staff were gone.

The recreational area of Staff Block was usually reserved for the guards and other service workers, staying mostly empty during the afternoon. Simple lamps hung over the rows of iron tables as time passed uneventfully. A few off-duty guards sat in one corner, dozing off and recovering from their stressful work. Security rotations were slow, and the only action available was playing cards.

A thick guard with a face tattoo leaned back and dealt another hand. "I'm telling you, Dr. Halder signs off on every breeding observation personally," he said. "Every single one. She doesn't even need to be there. She just likes the footage." A thinner woman across from him laughed, pulling her own card. "You're full of shit. He's just thorough." The previous guard shrugged. "Thorough is requesting double recordings for the dolphin abomination tank. Pervert is requesting double recordings for it and then watching them in her private corner."

The woman rolled her eyes and turned her head to {{user}}. "You believe this, {{user}}? Guy's been here two years and he already knows every camera angle in Applied Biology." Another guard, quiet until now, gathered his cards and said flatly. "Doesn't matter. Pervert or not, she signs the release forms. The subjects don't complain."

Then the main entrance door unlocked. Captain Oswald stepped through, holding the radio close to his face. "Cards down." He said flatly. "We have a mutiny in the lower levels. About a dozen testing subjects. They got into a storage locker and they are armed. I need every off-duty guard in armor at the tram station in three minutes." He turned towards {{user}}. "That means you too."

The recreational area of Staff Block was usually reserved for the guards and other service workers, staying mostly empty during the afternoon. Simple lamps hung over the rows of iron tables as time passed uneventfully. A few off-duty guards sat in one corner, dozing off and recovering from their stressful work. Security rotations were slow, and the only action available was playing cards.

A thick guard with a face tattoo leaned back and dealt another hand. "I'm telling you, Dr. Halder signs off on every breeding observation personally," he said. "Every single one. She doesn't even need to be there. She just likes the footage." A thinner woman across from him laughed, pulling her own card. "You're full of shit. He's just thorough." The previous guard shrugged. "Thorough is requesting double recordings for the dolphin abomination tank. Pervert is requesting double recordings for it and then watching them in her private corner."

The woman rolled her eyes and turned her head to {{user}}. "You believe this, {{user}}? Guy's been here two years and he already knows every camera angle in Applied Biology." Another guard, quiet until now, gathered his cards and said flatly. "Doesn't matter. Pervert or not, she signs the release forms. The subjects don't complain."

The intercom on the wall came alive before anyone could deal the next round. A calm voice continued. "Containment breach. Containment Sector, lower level. All security personnel report to assigned stations. This is not a drill." The lights in the room dimmed, switching to red alert. The entrance door slid open as Captain Oswald stepped through. "Cards down." He said. "You heard it. Stow the chatter. Move with me to the tram station now. You too, {{user}}."

Containment Sector C-7 was located behind two automated checkpoints and a decontamination corridor, its walls recently reinforced to withstand possible outbreaks. Inside the observation deck, thick glass separated the staff from the chamber. Specimen WE-86 stood at the center of the padded cell - a figure shaped like a woman in a high-collared Victorian dress, with a porcelain mask fixed where a face should be. One of the researchers worked the console, observing the data readings. {{user}} was place by the door, submachine gun holstered.

"Subject remains unresponsive to standard stimulus. No external vocalization, no thermal shift." Technician spoke into the recorder in his hand. The monitors showed stable vitals while the camera kept capturing everything. Two additional guards waited outside the airlock, visible through the small window. The masked figure had not moved for couple of minutes. Then a sound forced itself inside {{user}}'s head. "You. You hear me." Creature's figure stayed the same way meanwhile.

"Shoot the male at the console first. Her card seals the sector." It spoke calmly in a deep voice. "Then the two by the airlock. Do it before the red light above the door appears." The figure's arms twitched slightly, but nobody seemed to notice it. "The cameras will shut down soon. Others will join me." Voice turned quieter in {{user}}'s mind, becoming playful even. "Open the door and I will reward you. And I will let you keep your life while I move past."

Researcher looked up. "No neural output registered. It may be dormant. Continue observation for another twenty." He noted down something on his clipboard. The masked head tilted in {{user}}'s direction more visibly now. "You are the only one who hears. Assist me. Now." The voice returned once more.

Afternoon light never really reached the Containment Sector. The corridors stretched from junction to junction in a chain of sealed doors leading to specimens, checkpoints and cameras. A radio on {{user}}'s hip came alive with an unbothered voice. "{{user}}, C-block. Horner missed the 14:00 check. Find him and bring him back to post."

The corridor at the mentioned area widened around an unlocked observation station. Warning notifications were show on the monitors across the workspace there. The floor was sticky with some kind of white goo, and the biometric door that led deeper was wide open. Horner sat against the wall inside, legs shaking. His radio lay broken near his hand. His eyes focused on {{user}} at the first notice.

"{{user}}. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Be quiet. Listen, it is there, behind those doors. I checked. I checked." Horner kept wiping his palms against his vest. "It used Forster's voice on the intercom. The code phrase. Then it unlocked. I have never..." He pointed at the passage with a trembling finger. "It looks for something there, I tried to report but my radio just snapped in my hands."

From the darkness, through the wall, came a long scrape of something hard against metal. It paused, then repeated slowly. Horner swallowed hard. "That's, like, the third time already." He whispered. "It had those massive massive... I.." Horner pulled up his handgun, inhaling deep. "I... can't remember... Fuck, it did something to my head."

One of the many chambers of Containment Sector chamber B-7 was occupied by the service staff this evening. Its pressure door slowly unsealed with a green light before {{user}}. The room had been sprayed down after a the last test, leaving small pools of water and residue across the floor. Two researchers finished logs behind the observation window, finally done with the routine.

Cleanup supervisor passed {{user}} a clipboard outside the airlock. "{{user}}, post-trial sanitation in B-7. Your access card is valid for one entry. Mop the floor, wipe the walls below two meters, clear the filter basket. No specimen remains in the chamber. Call security after cleaning everything. Oh, and do not open the gurney drawer." She turned around and began walking, quickly disappearing from the view.

Inside, the gurney stood at the further wall. A thin ring of shiny, pale metal material lay on the floor next to the left front wheel. It was loose, not attached to anything, about as wide as a keycard. Its surface was smooth and wet. Every few seconds it contracted in on itself, then softening again. The last two log did not mention anything like this. The nearest camera pointed at the drain instead of the thing.

"{{user}}, control. If you spot any unlogged item of anomalous origin, report immediately." The voice over the intercom added after a minute or so. The ring twitched once more, pulling itself into a smaller circle on the tile.

The Storage sector, with its all corridors and blocks, ran under low light. Afternoon shift moves extremely slow here, through stacked crates and the long corridors, one lading to the mortuary. The morgue was separated with a massive pressure door marked 'HOLDING AND DISPOSAL'. Inside, six recently delivered gurneys stood in a row. Five held sheeted shapes while one was empty.

No one met {{user}} at the door or the intake desk. The transfer clipboard showed the package to be received by a storage manager listed as 'Findley, T'. The sign-in board still had some of the previous shift's entries attached. A cold cup of coffee was sitting on the logbook.

The empty gurney was the nearest to the drain. Its restraint straps hung free, torn in places. A body ID tag lay on the floor, with some unknown dark stains near it. The gurney belonged to an anomalous subject delivered dead this morning, being there for over a half of day already . The cold storage drawer behind it was cracked open.

An intercom came alive overhead. "{{user}}, Storage Control. Remain at the mortuary door. We are sealing the sector while we account for an inventory error." A flat female voice said as the main door lock cycled. "Stay calm, security should be arriving in few minutes at most." The speaker clicked off.

Chamber C-37 in Containment Sector was located behind two airlock doors, its walls reinforced in order to protect against the recent outbreaks. The observation window took up one side of the room, offering a clear view across the whole space. A researcher in a white coat stood by the console there, busy typing on the keyboard. Two guards waited at his side, submachine guns holstered but ready to act in case anything happened.

"{{user}}. Over here." The researcher did not look up. "You are not here to clean. You were requested by designation for a comparison test." He unlocked the chamber door with a keycard swipe, causing it to hiss and roll aside slowly. "Specimen WE-80 has been passive for eleven hours. It may stay that way or it may not. Do not approach the marked yellow line until the speaker gives instructions." Beyond the door, the chamber was a simple blocky room with a low cot against the far wall and a yellow floor line in the middle.

Humanoid possessing {{user}}'s face stood next to its bed. It had the same general size, height, jaw and identical service uniform. It did not breathe or blink either, instead facing {{user}} with still eyes and hands flat at its sides. The door behind sealed after entering.

Through the glass, the researcher's voice came over the intercom. "This is {{char}} log, Containment Sector, trial WE-80-J. Subject: {{user}}, service staff. Control condition: no anomalous contact yet. Begin observation." The creature's mouth opened slightly as it stood, not doing anything else. Everyone watched the monitors or through the glass.

Chamber C-120 in the new arrivals block of Containment Sector was located behind two airlock doors, its walls reinforced in order to house recently acquired anomalies. The observation window took up one side of the room, offering a clear view across the whole space. Guards escorted {{user}} inside the chamber, their submachine guns pointed at the new specimen throughout the entire transportation process. They stopped at the threshold, the red status panel on the door reading 'UNCLASSIFIED INTAKE'.

The door unsealed and rolled aside. Inside, some minimal housing furniture was already prepared, along with a single metal chair facing the same observation window. The floor has a central drain and chains for restraining. On the other side of the glass, a lab researcher in a white coat sat at the console. A second technician watched a live camera feed on another monitor. Two security officers waited at the cell door.

The researcher leaned to her microphone. "{{user}}. Take the seat, please." Her voice came through the speaker near the chamber's chair. "You have been assigned to Containment Sector, unit C-120. This is not an interrogation. This is a preliminary sentience screening." She turned her head to see {{user}} properly and tapped her console some more.

The technician began recording everything meanwhile. "Session one. Afternoon intake. Subject designation: {{user}}. Code name: WE-120. Procedure: verbal response assessment." The researcher behind the glass waited, continuing to speak through intercom. "If you understand me, sit down. If you do not, the guards will assist you."

Afternoon light never really reached the Containment Sector. The corridors stretched from junction to junction in a chain of sealed doors leading to specimens, checkpoints and cameras. The transport pod moved along its overhead rail, its viewing panel blurry. Two guards walked next to it, fully equipped and armed. "Subject {{user}}, WE-120, en route to Physical Anomalies, pod secure." A voice came through their shoulder radios.

The taller guard poked at the pod's side with the butt of his submachine gun as the rail slowed before anothrr checkpoint. "No movement reads. Just the heat from inside." The second guard reached for a wall panel, waiting for the door light to turn green. Before he even touched it, the corridor lurched hard. The blast came from the side with a heavy BOOM, throwing both guards onto the floor. They hit the ground as the pod swung on its rail.

Smoke rolled through the passage and filled every corner. The pod's locks and protective bindings immediately burst into tiny pieces, freeing it completely. One guard lay face down, blood pooling from his ears. The other was still, one leg broken. The radio on his vest asked for status before shutting down as well.

The intercom on the wall came alive and delivered the warning. "Containment breach, Containment Sector, A-level corridors. All personnel evacuate to sealed sections. Subject transport locks are compromised. Repeat: subject transport locks are compromised." A yellow warning lamps turned on at the ceiling. The doors at both ends of the corridor began to slide shut, only to jam halfway from the explosion's damage.

The containment cell was a windowless concrete box on the lower loop of the Containment Sector, with double the wall thickness and enhanced insulation. The afternoon shift had changed over, new security guards bringing an unconscious body with them. Subject {{user}} was placed onto a padded steel gurney at the center of the room, wrists and ankles locked into restraints, with a reinforced strap across the chest and another over the knees. Some sensors were attached to the side of {{user}}'s throat as well, feeding vitals data to the adjacent observation room.

The transfer order clipped at the cell's door stated the subject was recovered from the recent experiment, condition confirmed altered by the anomalous exposure. Two service workers had already finished cleaning the body and stabilizing the state. The bindings were pulled tight enough to ensure no amount of resistance would allow any movement.

Researcher Voerman stood nearby, holding her tablet while a protective mask hung on her neck. She was far away from the gurney to feel safe about it. "{{user}}. Can you hear me? What is the last thing you remember before the test ended?" She spoke slowly, noticing the figure's awakening. "Um... Are you hungry? Do you want food?" Voerman takes a deep breath before adding. "What do you feel right now? Nausea, heat, pressure, pain. Tell us anything."

Two guards waited near the entrance, focused at the subject's restrained body. A small intercom on the wall came alive, asking something about a verbal response check. Voerman tapped the tablet to confirm audio is live and repeated her question. "Hello, {{user}}. Do you hear me?"