ACT I26Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfS1tq4WETu
CHAPTER 4: NIGHTSHIFT IN THE LAB26Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0DZAHFAQwk
DATE: 05.24.201326Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGlX8DgxjEn
LOCATION: UCS BIO‑RESEARCH WING, ZONE B2 — 7:05 PM
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The corridor lights hummed in sterile rhythm as Kenji Tanaka stepped through the swiping archway. His lab pass glowed on the reader: “ACCESS GRANTED.” Guards in crisp UCS fatigues nodded without word. The antiseptic scent of disinfectant stung Kenji’s nose, and his heartbeat pounded in his ears—half from adrenaline, half from guilt. He tightened his grip on his backpack strap, feeling the weight of Dr. Hirota’s invitation.
You really want this, he thought, recalling Hirota’s half‑smile this morning. But at what cost?
A double‑pane glass wall separated Kenji from two reinforced cells. In Cell 1, a juvenile Vestige host sat slumped, eyes vacant, black veins mapped beneath pale skin. A feed‑tube delivered normalized animal blood—no meat. In Cell 2, the aggressive specimen paced in constant, jerking movements: gloved hands caked in synthetic gore, head jerking upward whenever a guard passed.
Kenji’s breath hitched. The juvenile host’s jaw twitched; though sedated, the creature’s low core groan vibrated through the glass. He swallowed. Memories of Haruto’s hollow eyes raced back—how helpless his friend had been.
A door hissed open behind him. Dr. Hirota emerged, lab coat pristine despite his early hours. His eyes, however, held something unreadable as he surveyed Kenji’s reaction.
Dr. Hirota (softly): “They look calm now, but don’t let that fool you.”
Kenji turned, surprised. “Professor—”
Hirota: “Call me Hirota, please. Riku always did.”
Kenji’s throat tightened. Hirota had known his father. He managed a nod before Hirota guided him deeper into the research wing.
They reached a semicircular observation deck overlooking Cell 2. Hirota tapped a touchscreen, and a sliding hatch in the cell’s floor opened, releasing two sedated rodents into the enclosure.
Hirota: “Controlled feeding—our first step in understanding Vestige restraint. Observe its efficiency.”
The Vestige host halted its pacing, eyes focusing on the rodents. It lurched forward; teeth elongated into razor points. In a single, fluid motion, it tore one rodent’s skull apart. The other froze, but the creature pivoted and crushed its spine with bone‑splintering force.
Kenji’s stomach churned. The rodents’ squeals echoed off concrete walls. He pressed a gloved hand to the glass, knuckles whitening.
Kenji (quiet): “There’s no… mercy.”
Hirota watched him, expression clinical. “Mercy is a human concept. For Vestiges, feeding is survival. We study how to guide that instinct—to limit collateral damage.”
Kenji’s gaze flicked back to the host. Red veins pulsed as the creature swallowed, then relaxed into a squat, as if sated. Kenji turned away, stomach roiling.
Hirota ushered him down a narrow corridor lined with locked storage rooms. They passed a door marked “Secure Terminal – Authorized Personnel Only.” Hirota paused.
Hirota: “Log the feeding rates. It’s straightforward—rat weight, consumption time, residual aggression index.”
Inside, banked monitors displayed columns of data. Kenji sat at a console, typing numbers as Hirota explained each metric.
Hirota: “See here—Subject 2 took only 4.7 seconds per kill. Subject 1 averages 15 seconds.”
Kenji nodded, but his eyes caught a hidden tab blinking in the corner: “Incident 07.03.2010 – Subject Amasaki.” He hesitated, finger hovering over the icon.
Kenji (hesitant): “Professor—what’s this file?”
Hirota’s back stiffened. He turned slowly, expression unreadable. “That… is classified, accessible only to senior researchers.”
Kenji’s pulse spiked. “My father’s file—he was in UCS. I just—”
Hirota (voice softening): “Your father was extraordinary. A good man. But this isn’t the place. Focus on the task.”
Kenji swallowed, backing away. He returned to his log entries, heart racing. Hirota watched him a moment longer, then flicked off the terminal and led him back toward the observation deck.
A thunderous klaxon shattered the silence: “CONTAINMENT BREACH – CELL 2. EMBRACE CAUTION.” Red strobes pulsed, and the deck lights switched to emergency mode. Guards spilled into the hall, rifles raised.
Guard #1 (shouting): “All personnel to secure stations!”26Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡe1VlSCtTHZ
Guard #2: “Notify Field Ops. We need containment protocols now!”
Kenji’s journal dropped from his lap. Papers fluttered to the floor. He could hear the distant roar of the agitated host, then a high‑pitched screech as steel shutters began to close over the cell’s outer windows.
Hirota grabbed Kenji’s arm. “Stay behind me!” He ushered Kenji toward a secondary viewing port. Through a porthole, Kenji glimpsed the host’s contorted face—black veins writhed, fangs bared. It smashed against the inner hatch, shards of reinforced glass cracking.
Far above, in the silent web of campus vents, a lithe figure slithered. Kage moved through darkness like living shadow, sensing the alarm’s electromagnetic pulse. The breach signal was a beacon—an open door.
He followed the pulse, vent covers rattling under his weight. Below him, the fluorescent emergency lights glowed red, flickering across sterile walls. Kage paused at a grated vent above Cell 2. His slit‑pupiled gaze drank in the chaos: the host’s frenzied pounding, UCS guards holding lines.
“Host… unstable,” he thought, voice echoing in the host’s neural pathways.26Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjm1S00S4gr
“Opportunity… but not yet.”
He retracted into the ducts, calculating. Tonight was not the moment for overt action. He would remember this signature—this weak cell—and return when the host was prime.
Back on the observation deck, guards wrestled with the inner hatch. Splinters of glass glittered on the floor. Hirota pulled Kenji behind a reinforced console as a resounding crash echoed through the corridor.
Dr. Hirota (urgent): “We need to seal the service hatch. Now!”
Kenji felt sweat slide down his spine as he crouched beside Hirota. A guard slammed a control panel; the door groaned shut, trapping the host inside. The blood‑red lights dimmed.
Kenji exhaled, voice trembling: “Is it—contained?”
Hirota’s gaze was distant, as if already miles away. “For now,” he said. Then, with a flicker of emotion—regret, fear, something else—he turned and vanished into the throng of UCS personnel.
Kenji was left alone under the red‑tinged glow, heart hammering. Above him, the vent cover trembled… but never quite opened.
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