BLOODCAPE

The interior of the biotech facility breathed with artificial stillness — not decay, not dereliction, but dormancy.

Pale overhead lights flickered once, dim and uneven, as if waking reluctantly. The smell was clinical rot: rust, ozone, something vaguely chemical buried beneath years of abandonment. A dull green glow pulsed from cracked emergency strips along the floor. Power still trickled through the veins of this place. Just enough to matter. Just enough to feel... intentional.

Hernan stepped through a narrow corridor, boots silent on tile. The door behind sealed shut with a pneumatic hiss. Ahead, the hallway branched.

"Clear left," Nico said over the team channel, glancing past a broken med-pod casing. "Bio-tags negative. Heat sigs minimal."

"Copy," Hernan replied. "I’m checking rear access stairwell."

"Gemini and I will hold the main corridor."

Gemini didn’t respond. She hadn’t said a word since they’d entered.

Hernan moved deeper, brushing past sagging cables and shattered signage. His light caught faded lettering above the archway: CELLTRACE MEDI-LAB.

The stairwell was rusted out, but the door marked Sub-Maintenance: Authorized Techs Only buzzed faintly at his presence.

Still powered.

He palmed the lockpad.