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— “Holy sh… how did we not notice this earlier?” flashed through her head while her body seeped through a small. crack in the rusty metal structure of the trash container.
Inside it was dark, damp, and smelled like someone had mixed bleach with rotting algae. But once she flew a bit farther, literally just a couple dozen meters, the smell hit her like someone had punched her in the nose.
Exogen.
But not the refined kind injected in sterile labs under government control—raw, crudely extracted from those very colonies of microorganisms that were found fifty years ago beneath the surface of the Red Planet. The same ones that at first looked like nothing more than primitive biomass, and then accidentally turned the first test subject into a human capable of walking through walls.
Flora reflexively pressed her palm to her face—and immediately clenched her teeth.
“Fuck… I forgot that I smell like fucking chamomile now!”
The smell of her own skin, sickly sweet with obvious floral notes, mixed with the sharp stench of the underground farm, and it was so absurd that she almost burst out laughing right there in midair. But the laugh got stuck in her throat when she saw a dull red light flicker ahead, behind a partition made of old metal shelving.
She glanced around. Her wings fluttered in the air, and despite her attempts, a green glow still appeared from them from time to time. Yeah, she probably should’ve spent more evenings studying control and the possible abilities of her body, instead of whining while staring into a tiny mirror in the dollhouse, as she called her living space at the base of the “heroes.”
—…that’s how it is, boss. Don’t worry. Little accidents happen,— a hoarse voice rasped from the room, and Flora immediately pictured a short, fat man with unshaven stubble and a cap on his head, smiling as he tried to justify some screw-up, explaining that it was even good that this screw-up had happened.
The second voice, colder and sharper, cut him off:
— Don’t take me for an idiot, Rico. One more thing like that happens—and you’ll become fertilizer for the next batch yourself. How long until it’s ready?
— Two hours, maybe three max. The colony’s stabilized. Look how it bubbles,— Rico, as it seemed was the name of this underground lab tech, fell silent, apparently waiting for the “boss’s” reaction, and that gave Flora time.
She carefully flew as high as possible, hugging the ceiling but not too close so she wouldn’t get stuck in mold or something worse. Once inside the room, she landed on an old rectangular lamp hanging from the ceiling on thin rods—the kind usually found in warehouses—and slightly stretched her head forward.