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The sun was already setting beyond the horizon when their “contact” led them to a massive, abandoned warehouse on the city’s outskirts. The huge, weathered gates slid open, revealing a dark corridor lit by sparse, flickering bulbs, as if warning that once they entered, there would be no turning back.
They exchanged brief glances, and Agent Cassie—a young woman with large blue eyes and a slight scar over her eyebrow—winked at her partner, Mark.
— Whatever’s in there, we’ll find it out, — she said with stubborn confidence.
Mark, a large man with sharp features and a tattoo on his wrist, merely gave a slight nod and smirked. His inner unease didn’t show in his voice or his movements. Both of them knew something was seriously wrong in this place, and they were here for exactly that reason. So, without hesitation, they strode confidently into what appeared to be just an ordinary, old, abandoned warehouse.
...
They had been tasked with infiltrating a secret underground organization known only as “The Alternative.” Complex methods, mysterious disappearances, no traces left behind. According to reports, the criminals used advanced medical technology to make people vanish, including those who were fugitives, those who had gone completely off the radar. Not to mention countless missing persons who couldn’t be directly connected to the organization, though many signs pointed back to them.
The operation had gone flawlessly from the start. They had trained, studied documents, learned their new identities—Cassie was posing as a runaway lawyer, suspected by the authorities of a “suspicious” client disappearance. Mark was posing as a mercenary on the run after a failed assignment.
That day, they thought the mission was done—they had found the place where it all happened, and all that remained was to call in the special forces. But headquarters made it clear that any premature raid might only scare the criminals, causing them to disappear along with the evidence. Without concrete proof, a raid on the lab would yield nothing: at the slightest hint of danger, the criminals could wipe out all traces and vanish, as they had done before. Though both were ready to risk it all, they were assured the agents were under constant surveillance and would be extracted immediately if anything went wrong. All they could do now was trust.
...
— Well, um… — the man in the white coat they encountered just as they entered gave them a skeptical look, glanced down at his paperwork, and spoke — Angela Drake and David Kowalski? — The man pushed his glasses closer to his nose, giving the agents a quick, sharp look.
— Correct, — Cassie confirmed, staring straight into his eyes. Her voice held a slight nervous edge as she tried to sound more like Angela. The role of a runaway lawyer hiding from the authorities didn’t imply a confident woman.
Mark hung back slightly, watching the doctor closely, as though trying to read the man before him. But the white-coated man had already turned to one of his assistants and nodded, giving an instruction.
— Take them to the waiting room. — He gestured toward a narrow hallway, where the sharp scent of sterile solutions mixed with a faint, sour odor of something aged.
The agents moved forward, following the assistant, exchanging a silent look. Ahead was an ajar door from which a cold, bluish light spilled out.