New Intern (Prologue)
The saloon-style doors swung open with a soft creak, catching the attention of the few patrons scattered across the spacious restaurant.
A woman stepped inside, her short, wavy lavender hair immediately standing out against the earthy, rustic interior.
Her warm brown skin glowed slightly beneath the soft overhead lights, her deep-set eyes scanning the space with quiet, steady purpose.
The large beige scarf draped over her shoulders shifted with her movement, a subtle contrast to the dark brown vest she wore, neatly fastened by golden buttons. The sheriff's star pinned to her chest caught the light, glinting briefly as she adjusted the collar of her vest.
Her left arm, completely wrapped in white bandages, hung casually by her side, but there was no mistaking the alertness in her stance.
The restaurant was vast and pristine, with polished wooden floors that gleamed under the artificial lights.
Long rows of neatly arranged tables stretched across the room, their surfaces spotless, despite the lack of diners.
Most of the seats were empty, save for a few occupied by lone patrons quietly sipping on drinks or idly glancing at holographic menus projected in front of them.
Operated entirely by robots, the restaurant had a silent efficiency to it. Mechanical servers, resembling sleek, humanoid automatons, glided noiselessly between the tables, delivering plates of food with precise movements. Their metallic limbs reflected the light as they worked, attending to the few customers without so much as a word.
The lavender-haired woman glanced over the empty seats, her gaze sweeping across the neatly organized booths and tables.
She walked with measured, deliberate steps, her boots making a soft, rhythmic tap against the floor, adding a touch of human sound.
As she neared the windows, she chose a seat in a corner booth, away from the other patrons, where the light filtering through the large, spotless panes cast a soft glow on the table.
She lowered herself into the seat, the weight of the room seeming to lift slightly as she settled in, her hand instinctively reaching up to adjust the scarf at her neck. Her eyes flicked briefly to one of the robotic waiters, who approached without hesitation, ready to take her order.
As she settled into her seat by the window, the table flickered to life.
A holographic menu projected upwards, casting a faint blue glow across the pristine surface. She blinked as the menu scrolled smoothly in front of her, displaying a wide array of dishes, each accompanied by tantalizing images and neatly displayed prices.
Her bandaged hand hovered over the glowing selection as she scanned through the options, but before she could make a decision, one of the sleek, humanoid robot waiters approached her table.
"Good evening," the robot's voice was calm, its tone perfectly modulated to be polite. "May I take your order?".
She glanced up from the menu, meeting the cool, artificial gaze of the robot.
Its chrome exterior gleamed under the restaurant lights, smooth and flawless, with LED lights softly pulsing on its chest. Despite its unfeeling nature, there was an odd sense of courtesy in its posture.
With a calm, steady tone, she replied, "I'll need a bit more time to think, but I'll take a glass of water for now."
The robot inclined its head ever so slightly, acknowledging her request.
"Of course. I'll return shortly with your water." With a smooth pivot, it glided away, its footsteps silent against the polished floor.
Her attention returned to the holographic menu, scrolling through the offerings. The typical western-themed options were there—steaks, burgers, smoked meats—but as she scrolled further, something caught her eye.
A strange dish, labeled Prime Meal, appeared near the bottom of the menu, priced at an eye-popping 1,290 zen credits.
The description beneath it was vague, mentioning something about "rare ingredients from distant colonies," but offering no real clue as to what the dish actually was. Her brow furrowed slightly as she stared at the listing, curiosity piqued, though she wasn't quite sure if it was enough to warrant the steep price.
Before she could think too much about it, the robot waiter returned, a glass of water in its hand. It set the drink down in front of her with perfect precision, the ice cubes clinking softly as they settled in the glass.
"Is there anything else you would like to order?" the robot asked, its tone still gentle and patient.
She picked up the glass and took a slow sip, letting the cool water refresh her before replying. "Actually, could you point me in the direction of the washroom?"
The robot paused for a brief moment, processing the request, before responding. "The washroom is located down the hall to your left. Follow the blue lighted signs."
She gave a small nod, her voice still calm as she replied, "Thank you."
The robot inclined its head once again in acknowledgment before turning and resuming its duties, leaving her to finish her water. Placing the glass back on the table, she took one last glance at the strange, expensive dish on the menu, her thoughts lingering on it for a moment longer before rising from her seat to follow the directions given.
She stepped lightly through the restaurant's sleek, quiet hallway, her boots barely making a sound as she followed the blue-lit signs that led to the washroom.
The further she walked, the more deserted the corridor felt, as though she had ventured into an area rarely frequented by the few customers the restaurant had. The gentle hum of distant robotics faded, leaving her in near silence.
Halfway down the hall, her gaze fell on an unmarked door with a small four-digit passcode lock embedded in its surface. It wasn't labeled as restricted or meant for staff, nor did it carry any indication of being off-limits.
To the casual observer, it might have appeared as just another utility or storage room. But her's instincts, honed through years of subtle observations, tingled with curiosity. Something about the door felt... off.
She paused, glancing around to ensure she was alone, before reaching into the inner pocket of her vest. From it, she pulled out a slim, touch-screen device that closely resembled a Smart phone but was clearly designed for something far more advanced.
Her fingers moved deftly across the screen, inputting commands and analyzing something as her eyes flickered with focused intensity.
A few moments passed, and the device pinged softly, displaying a result.
Her gaze returned to the door, and after a moment's hesitation, she entered the number: 1290.
The keypad clicked, and with a faint whir, the door slid open.
The room inside was far from the neat, sterile environment she had come to expect from the rest of the establishment. It was cluttered, untidy, with shelves of various equipment scattered in disarray. Strange tools, wires, and devices of unknown purpose almost as if the room had been abandoned mid-use.
The air had a faint metallic tang to it, mixed with the dusty, unused smell of a place forgotten over time.
Stepping inside cautiously, As she scanned the area, her fingers were instinctively tightening around her device.
Before she could inspect further, she heard a soft click behind her. The door had sealed shut, locking her in. She quickly turned and tried the door, confirming—it was locked from the outside.
She slipped the device back into her pocket and retrieved a small card from her vest. Holding it up to the faint light, the card flickered to life, a blue scanning beam sweeping across her face.
A moment later, a robotic voice filled the air, devoid of any emotion.
[System scan complete]
[Name: Ember Nash]
[Age: 21]
[Gender: Female]
[Race: Ossiral]
[Height: 168 cm]
[Department: C.O.R.E.—Coalition for Organized Resistance and Escape]
[Combat experience: None]
[Infection status: The medical test has confirmed personnel is not infected with Aetherium]
As Ember stood in the middle of the cluttered storage room, still processing the system's scan of her identity, a quiet hiss echoed from one of the walls. Without warning, a section of the wall slid open, revealing a dimly lit hallway that stretched out beyond.
The soft hum of mechanical components whirred in the background as the hidden passage came into view.
Standing just inside the hallway was an automaton, dressed impeccably in what appeared to be a butler's outfit.
Its design was sleek and elegant, its artificial face devoid of expression yet somehow exuding the aura of professionalism.
It bowed slightly before speaking in a polite, measured tone. "Miss Ember Nash, the master is eagerly waiting for you. Please, this way."
Ember hesitated for a moment, her hand instinctively brushing against a weapon hidden in her pocket, before following the automaton into the new corridor.
As she walked behind the robot, the hallway subtly shifted around them, scanners embedded in the walls softly humming as they passed through various detectors.
Occasionally, faint pulses of light would scan Ember from head to toe, each accompanied by a soft beep.
She recognized the familiar buzz of Aetherium neutralizers, making sure she carried no traces of that anomalous element.
After several minutes of walking through these layers of security, they approached an elevator at the end of the corridor.
The robot gestured towards it with a calm, sweeping motion. "This way, please."
Ember entered the elevator with the robot, the doors sliding, shut behind them. At first, the descent seemed normal, but soon, she noticed something odd—it was taking longer than expected. They were going deeper. Much deeper than she had anticipated.
Feeling the first twinge of anxiety rise in her chest, she turned toward the automaton. "This is taking a while..."
It's response was as calm as ever. "We are undergoing Class 7 security procedures. This is standard protocol for clearance to the master's location."
Ember's eyes widened slightly. "Class 7?" she echoed, her voice betraying a hint of disbelief. "I've never been through anything higher than Class 3."
It remained unfazed. "Class 7 protocols are necessary for secure access to restricted research and experimentation facilities."
A knot of anxiety began to form in Ember's stomach. Class 7 meant they were entering a zone of high-level confidentiality, far beyond anything she had ever been cleared for. The thought of what lay beneath unnerved her, and she found herself tapping her fingers lightly against her leg as the elevator continued its descent.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the elevator came to a smooth stop, and the doors slid open with a soft chime.
What greeted Ember on the other side was astonishing—a sprawling underground complex that stretched far into the distance. The space was pristine and modern, with walls of glass and metal, sleek walkways suspended over lower levels of the facility.
Various terminals, laboratories, and observation chambers were visible from her vantage point. Scientists and personnel, many dressed in sterile white lab coats, moved about with purpose.
The hum of advanced machinery and the soft glow of data screens filled the air, making it clear that this was no ordinary research lab—it was a fortress of cutting-edge science, hidden far beneath the surface.
As she stepped out of the elevator, a figure stood waiting for her.
The man, clad in sleek, dark attire that contrasted sharply with the bright lights of the lab, immediately caught her attention.
His appearance was striking—white hair that framed his face in sharp, almost silver strands, his eyes a piercing shade of pale blue that glinted beneath the low light.
A black mask covered the lower half of his face, and a hood draped over his head, giving him an air of mystery.
His coat, long and adorned with various tech components, hung loosely, flowing as he moved. The dark fabric was accented by glowing lines of blue and orange, hinting at hidden functionalities within his attire. He stood with his arms crossed, his posture relaxed but his gaze intense as if sizing her up.
When he spoke, his voice was soft, but with an edge that hinted at authority. "Ember Nash," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You've finally arrived."
There was an unsettling confidence in his tone, as if he had been expecting her for a long time.
The tension in the air grew as Ember straightened her posture, her heart still racing from the elevator ride.
She tried to mask her nerves as best as she could, but in the face of this man's quiet dominance, she knew she had entered a place that few had seen—and even fewer left.