Winter's boots barely made a sound as he walked down the dimly lit corridors of the base, but his mind was a storm. The conversation with Marcus and the rest was still fresh, their words ringing in Winter's ears like a warning bell.
Human experimentation. The base not being safe for ability users. Something on the loose that even the soldiers were worried about...
What the fuck was running loose in the base?
He exhaled sharply, forcing himself to focus. If he let his emotions take over, he'd make mistakes. And mistakes got people killed. The hallways stretched ahead, metallic walls humming faintly with the vibrations of distant machinery. The air smelled of oil, sweat, and something stale—like secrets rotting in the dark.
As he approached Bale's hideout, he double-checked his surroundings. The storage room was tucked away in an abandoned section of the barracks, away from prying eyes. He rapped his knuckles against the steel door—three short taps, a pause, then two more.
