The hunt begins

Nowhere Left to Run

The city lights blurred in the side mirror as Jared's car sped down the empty highway. Tricia sat in the passenger seat, gripping the flash drive so tightly that her knuckles turned white. The weight of what she had uncovered still pressed against her chest, Project S.O.L.A.C.E. wasn't just some secret operation. It was about her.

Lana had tried to control her. Carter had tried to use her. And now, someone else, someone even more powerful, had been pulling the strings from the beginning.

Jared glanced at her. "You're quiet."

Tricia exhaled sharply, shifting in her seat. "I'm thinking."

"Thinking about what?"

She turned to face him. "How screwed we are."

Jared smirked, but there was no humor in his eyes. "Yeah, well, I figured that out when we left a body behind in a penthouse and a laptop full of classified information."

Tricia sighed, rubbing her temples. "We need to disappear, at least for a while. If they find us now, we're dead."

Jared nodded. "Already on it."

He tapped the GPS, rerouting their course. Tricia watched as the familiar roads gave way to the outskirts, the buildings thinning out until they were surrounded by nothing but darkness and distant hills.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"Someplace off the map," Jared replied. "A friend of mine has a cabin in the woods. No cameras, no cell towers, nothing that can track us."

Tricia arched a brow. "A friend?"

Jared chuckled. "Alright, fine. A guy I once worked with. Let's just say he owes me for not putting a bullet in his skull a few years back."

Tricia smirked despite the tension. "Charming."

Jared's expression turned serious again. "We won't have long before they realize we've gone dark. We need to figure out what's on that flash drive and what the hell Project S.O.L.A.C.E. really is before they find us."

She nodded, gripping the drive tighter. "Then let's hope your 'friend' still considers himself in your debt."

Off the Grid

Hours later, the car rolled to a stop deep in the woods. The cabin was barely visible, nestled between thick trees, with no sign of modern technology anywhere.

Jared killed the engine and turned to her. "Last chance to back out."

Tricia shot him a look. "We both know that's not happening."

He grinned. "Didn't think so."

They stepped out, the cold air biting at their skin. Jared led the way to the door and knocked twice in a specific rhythm. A few seconds later, the sound of locks clicking echoed through the silence.

The door creaked open, revealing a man in his late forties with sharp eyes and a scar running down his cheek. He studied them for a moment before stepping aside.

"Didn't expect to see you again," he muttered to Jared. "And definitely not with company."

Jared smirked. "Yeah, well, desperate times."

The man's gaze flickered to Tricia. "Who's she?"

Jared hesitated before answering. "She's the reason I'm still breathing. And the reason we need a place to stay."

The man let out a slow breath, then stepped aside. "Come in. But if you bring trouble to my doorstep, I won't hesitate to put a bullet in both of you."

Tricia nodded. "Fair enough."

Planning the Next Move

The cabin was small but well-equipped, canned food, a wood-burning stove, and enough security measures to suggest that its owner had spent years looking over his shoulder.

Jared tossed his bag onto the table. "We need to lay low for a few days. Maybe a week."

The man, who Jared finally introduced as Reed, crossed his arms. "And in return?"

Jared grinned. "I didn't collect the favor you still owe me."

Reed muttered something under his breath but didn't argue. "Fine. But don't make me regret it."

Tricia sat at the table, pulling out the flash drive. "I need a computer."

Reed raised a brow. "What's on it?"

She met his gaze. "Something people are willing to kill for."

Reed studied her for a moment, then walked over to a locked chest in the corner. He unlocked it and pulled out an old but functional laptop. "It's not connected to the internet. Safe enough?"

Tricia nodded, taking it. She plugged in the flash drive and waited as the files loaded. Jared leaned over her shoulder while Reed hovered nearby, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

The same Project S.O.L.A.C.E. folder appeared. Tricia clicked through, scanning the files again.

But this time, she found something new.

A hidden file. Encrypted.

Her heart pounded. "This wasn't here before."

Jared frowned. "Can you open it?"

Tricia's fingers hovered over the keyboard. "I can try."

She typed in the decryption command and waited.

Seconds stretched into minutes.

Then, the screen flickered, and a single image appeared.

A photograph.

It showed a young girl, no older than ten, standing between two men in lab coats. She had dark hair, piercing eyes…

And she looked exactly like Tricia.

She felt the blood drain from her face.

Jared stiffened beside her. "Tell me that's not,"

"It's me," Tricia whispered. "But I don't remember this. I don't remember any of this."

Reed let out a low whistle. "Looks like you just found out what they were really hiding."

Tricia swallowed hard. "This isn't just about who I am. It's about what they did to me."

She turned to Jared, her voice steady but filled with quiet rage. "We need to find out everything. Who ran this project. Who funded it. And why I was part of it."

Jared nodded. "And then?"

Tricia clenched her fists. "Then we burn it all to the ground."

Nowhere Left to Run,But Not Afraid to Fight

She had spent too long being hunted, too long looking over her shoulder.

Now, she knew the truth was out there, hidden, buried beneath layers of deception and erased memories.

She had nowhere left to run.

But for the first time, she wasn't running.

She was coming for them.

The Ghost File

The cabin was eerily quiet, save for the occasional creak of the wooden floorboards and the rhythmic clicking of Tricia's fingers against the laptop keyboard. The decrypted file stared back at her, a single image of herself as a child, flanked by two unknown men in lab coats.

Jared sat beside her, his expression tense. Reed, their reluctant host, leaned against the doorframe, watching them with wary curiosity.

"You sure you want to do this?" Jared asked, his voice low.

Tricia didn't answer immediately. She hovered over the next command, her breath shallow. There was no turning back now. Whatever was hidden in these files could change everything she thought she knew about herself.

She hit enter.

The screen flickered, and a series of documents flooded the screen. Medical reports. Psychological evaluations. Experiment logs.

Her stomach twisted as she scrolled through them. Each file was marked with the same coded header: S.O.L.A.C.E. ACTIVE ASSET.

Her hands trembled. "They labeled me as an 'active asset.' Creepy?"

Jared frowned, his eyes scanning the text. "It means you weren't just a test subject. You were a part of something bigger. Something ongoing."

Tricia clicked on one of the reports. The text was dense with scientific jargon, but a few lines stood out:

> Subject T-045 has shown increased cognitive adaptability beyond standard projections. Memory suppression remains effective, though anomalies have been detected. Further conditioning required.

She inhaled sharply. "Memory suppression?"

Jared's expression darkened. "They erased parts of your past. Made you forget things."

Tricia clenched her jaw. "Then we need to find out why."

She kept scrolling. More files. More redacted information. Until,

A name.

Dr. Marcus Lorne.

The name sent a shiver down her spine. She had never heard it before, but something about it felt… familiar.

Reed finally spoke, his voice calm but firm. "Lorne. That name rings a bell."

Tricia turned to him. "You've heard of him?"

Reed nodded slowly. "I used to work in intelligence. Back in the day, there were whispers about a Dr. Lorne being involved in classified human experiments. Off-the-record research, black-budget projects. The kind of stuff that gets buried deep."

Jared exhaled. "So he's real. And he's been involved in this from the start."

Tricia clicked on another file. It was a list of subjects. The names were redacted, except for one.

T-046: Maya Raines.

Tricia's heart nearly stopped. Maya.

She had died trying to protect her. And now, it was clear that Maya had been part of this project, too.

She stared at the screen, her hands tightening into fists. "Maya knew more than she wrote me. That's why she was killed."

Jared rubbed his jaw. "If we can find out what she uncovered before she died, we might get our answers."

Tricia's mind raced. If Maya had been an 'active asset' like her, that meant there were others. Other people who had their pasts stolen. Other people who might still be out there.

She turned to Reed. "Can you help us track Lorne?"

Reed studied her, then sighed. "I might know someone who can. But if we go down this road, there's no walking away."

Tricia's voice was steel. "I stopped running a long time ago."

She turned back to the laptop, her pulse pounding.

Dr. Lorne held the key to everything.

And she was going to find him, no matter the cost.

Buried Names, Buried Truths

The air inside the cabin was thick with tension as Tricia scrolled through the decrypted files, her mind racing. Dr. Lorne. The name felt like a loose thread in a tangled web, one that, if pulled hard enough, might unravel the entire mystery behind Project S.O.L.A.C.E.

But it wasn't just Lorne. Maya had been a subject too. And if Maya had died trying to protect Tricia, then there was no telling how deep this went.

Jared leaned against the wooden table, arms crossed. "So we have a name. Now what?"

Reed exhaled, rubbing the scar on his jaw. "I know a guy in Chicago. Used to be a journalist before he got too close to things people didn't want uncovered. If anyone has dirt on Lorne, it's him."

Tricia nodded. "Then we go to Chicago."

Reed smirked. "I don't recall signing up for a road trip."

Jared clapped him on the shoulder. "Too late, old man. You're in this now."

The Article That Shouldn't Exist

Twelve hours later, they sat in a dimly lit bar in downtown Chicago. The walls were lined with old newspapers and framed black-and-white photos, memories of a time when the truth was still printed in ink.

At the far end of the room, a man in his sixties sat nursing a whiskey. His salt-and-pepper beard made him look rugged, but his sharp eyes told a different story, this was a man who had seen too much.

Reed led the way. "Frank Carter," he said, pulling out a chair. "Still alive, I see."

Frank grunted, setting down his glass. "Reed. Thought you were dead."

"Not yet," Reed replied, sliding into the seat across from him.

Tricia and Jared followed, and Frank's gaze flickered to them. "New faces. You bring trouble, Reed?"

"Always." Reed smirked, then nodded toward Tricia. "She's looking for information on a name I think you'll recognize."

Frank sighed, reaching for a cigarette. "I'm retired."

Tricia leaned forward. "Dr. Marcus Lorne."

The name hung in the air like a ghost.

Frank's hand froze mid-motion. His expression darkened. "Where the hell did you hear that name?"

Tricia met his gaze. "I found it in a classified file connected to Project S.O.L.A.C.E."

Frank let out a dry chuckle. "Jesus. You really don't know what you're stepping into, do you?"

Jared tensed. "Then enlighten us."

Frank took a slow drag of his cigarette before exhaling. "I spent years digging into Lorne. Back in the '90s, he was a rising star in the biomedical field, genetics, neurological research, the works. Then, one day, he just… vanished. No records, no public statements. Like he never existed."

Tricia frowned. "Except he did."

Frank nodded. "And the only reason I even got close to him was because of an article I wrote in 2004. It was about a series of disappearances, young kids, mostly orphans, with no one to report them missing. I had a source who swore Lorne was involved."

Tricia's breath caught. Orphans.

Frank pulled out a worn manila folder from his bag and slid it across the table. "This is the last surviving copy of that article. The paper I worked for scrubbed it from their archives. A week after it was published, my source disappeared, and I got a friendly warning to drop it."

Tricia hesitated before opening the folder. Inside was a yellowed newspaper clipping with the headline:

"Children Vanish Without a Trace, Is There a Scientific Conspiracy?"

She scanned the text, her pulse hammering. Then, her eyes landed on a list of names.

And there it was.

T-045: Tricia Hale.

Her entire body went cold.

Jared read over her shoulder. "Holy,"

Reed muttered a curse under his breath.

Tricia felt like the world was tilting beneath her feet. This wasn't just a theory. This wasn't speculation. This was proof.

Frank studied her. "You recognize one of those names, don't you?"

She swallowed hard, nodding. "Mine."

Frank leaned back, shaking his head. "Well, kid, looks like you just found out exactly why they want you dead."

An Unexpected Ally

For a long moment, no one spoke. Then, Jared exhaled sharply. "If this article got buried, then someone went to a lot of trouble to keep it hidden."

Tricia clenched her fists. "Which means we're closer to the truth than they ever wanted."

Frank tapped his cigarette against the ashtray. "I thought I'd buried this story for good. But if Lorne is still out there, someone needs to finish what I started."

Tricia met his gaze. "Then help us."

Frank studied her, then smirked. "You've got guts, I'll give you that." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled business card. "There's a name on the back. Used to be one of Lorne's researchers before he disappeared. If anyone can tell you where to find him, it's her."

Tricia flipped the card over.

Dr. Evelyn Porter.

A chill ran down her spine. She recognized the name.

Because Evelyn Porter had signed one of the experiment reports in the S.O.L.A.C.E. files.

Frank stood, tossing some cash onto the table. "Watch your back, kid. If you keep digging, they're gonna come for you."

Tricia pocketed the card, her mind already racing with the next move.

"Let them," she said. "I'm not running anymore."

The Man in the Black Suit

The Chicago air was crisp as Tricia, Jared, and Reed stepped out of the bar. The weight of Frank Carter's revelations pressed heavy on her chest. Dr. Evelyn Porter. A name pulled straight from the classified files of Project S.O.L.A.C.E. If she was still alive, she could be the key to uncovering the truth about Lorne, and Tricia's past.

But as they crossed the street, a strange sensation crept up Tricia's spine. Someone was watching.

She didn't stop walking, but she subtly glanced at her reflection in a storefront window. A man stood at the corner, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit. His posture was rigid, his face unreadable. But it wasn't just his presence that unsettled her.

It was the fact that she knew him.

Her mind scrambled through fractured memories, but nothing came into focus. Just a feeling, this man wasn't just an observer. He was a ghost from her past.

Jared must have sensed her tension. "What is it?"

"Don't turn around," she murmured. "There's a man in a black suit. He's watching us."

Reed, ever the professional, didn't break stride. "Friend or enemy?"

Tricia exhaled. "That's what I'm trying to figure out."

The three of them ducked into an alleyway. Tricia positioned herself behind a rusted dumpster, waiting.

Seconds later, the man followed.

She stepped into his path, gun raised. "Who the hell are you?"

The man didn't flinch. Up close, his face was sharp, his eyes calculating. He was older than she remembered, but the familiarity was undeniable.

"You don't remember me, do you?" His voice was smooth, edged with something unreadable.

Tricia tightened her grip on the gun. "Should I?"

His lips quirked into the barest hint of a smirk. "They really did a number on you."

Jared stepped forward, his stance tense. "Answer the question. Who are you?"

The man lifted his hands slightly. "I'm not your enemy, Tricia. I've been watching over you for a long time."

She stiffened. "Why?"

"Because you were never supposed to be alone."

A cold chill ran through her. "That's not an answer."

The man sighed and slowly reached into his jacket. Reed reacted instantly, drawing his own gun. "Careful."

The man smirked and pulled out an old, yellowed photograph. He held it up for Tricia to see.

Her breath caught in her throat.

The picture showed a much younger version of herself, maybe five or six years old. Standing beside her was the man in the black suit.

And beneath it, written in faded ink, was a name.

Nathan Hale.

Tricia's entire body went rigid.

Hale.

The same last name she had grown up with.

The man's gaze softened. "I'm your brother."

Rekindling memories

Tricia's world tilted.

Brother.

The word felt foreign, out of place, like an echo from a life she had never lived. She stared at the man in the black suit, Nathan Hale. Her brother. But she had no memories of him. No recollection of a sibling, a family, or a past that included anyone who truly knew her before S.O.L.A.C.E. erased it all.

Jared and Reed exchanged tense glances, waiting for her to respond. But Tricia couldn't.

Nathan exhaled, his expression softening. "I don't expect you to trust me. But I can give you answers."

Tricia swallowed the lump in her throat. "Then prove it."

Nathan nodded. "Come with me."

The Facility That Shouldn't Exist

Hours later, they arrived at the outskirts of Chicago, deep in an industrial wasteland where rusted factories stood like forgotten skeletons. Nathan led them to a chain-link fence, cutting through it with practiced ease. Beyond the fence, an old research facility loomed, its windows shattered, its walls stained with decay.

"This is where it all started," Nathan said quietly.

Tricia hesitated before stepping inside. The moment she crossed the threshold, something deep inside her stirred, an eerie familiarity that sent shivers through her spine. The walls were covered in peeling paint, the air thick with the scent of damp concrete and something far worse, sterilization chemicals mixed with decay.

Jared swept a flashlight across the abandoned hallways, illuminating faded warning signs.

> AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.

BIOHAZARD CONTAINMENT ZONE.

PROJECT S.O.L.A.C.E. RESEARCH DIVISION.

Tricia's stomach churned. She had been here before.

Nathan led them deeper into the building, his footsteps deliberate. "I've been tracking Lorne for years. This was one of his first labs. It shut down over a decade ago, but there's something here he never wanted anyone to find."

Tricia followed, her pulse hammering. The deeper they went, the more the walls seemed to close in. Flashes of memory flickered in her mind,cold metal tables, the sting of needles, voices whispering words she didn't understand.

Then they reached a heavy steel door, rusted at the edges. Nathan pulled out a crowbar, wedging it into the frame until the lock snapped. The door groaned open.

And inside,

Tricia froze.

Rows of medical beds lined the room, each containing a decayed corpse strapped in place. The air was thick with the stench of death, but it wasn't just the sight of the bodies that made her blood turn to ice.

It was the fact that some of them were children.

Jared muttered a curse, stepping back. "What the hell is this?"

Nathan's jaw clenched. "Proof."

Reed scanned the room, his face unreadable. "This wasn't just an experiment. It was a slaughterhouse."

Tricia felt sick. She stepped closer to one of the decayed bodies, her hands trembling. A metal tag was still attached to the wrist.

> T-048

Her breath hitched. Another test subject.

She moved to another body. T-049. Then another. T-050.

One after the other, they all had identification numbers. Just like her.

Her chest tightened. How many children had they experimented on? How many never made it out?

Nathan's voice was grim. "Lorne used this place to perfect his 'conditioning techniques.' The subjects who didn't survive were left behind, erased." He turned to Tricia. "You weren't supposed to make it, either."

A chill crawled down her spine. "Then why did I?"

Nathan exhaled. "Because you weren't just another subject. You were the key to everything. And Maya, she must have figured that out."

Jared turned to him, his eyes dark with anger. "Where is Lorne now?"

Nathan hesitated. "I don't know. But whatever he's planning, he isn't done."

Tricia clenched her fists. She looked at the remains of those who never had a chance, those whose names had been buried and forgotten. She had survived when they hadn't.

And now, she was going to make sure their deaths weren't in vain.

"Then we find him," she said, her voice cold as steel. "And we end this."