Chapter Two: The Divide

A blinding light cuts through the darkness. It stabs into my skull, sharp and relentless, dragging me out of the void I had sunk into. I groan, my head pounding like someone has taken a sledgehammer to it. My limbs feel like dead weight, sluggish and unresponsive, but I try to shift anyway.

The light moves, flickering across my vision again. I flinch. "Good morning." the nurse that had drugged me earlier said as I blink rapidly, trying to force my vision into focus. The room around me is once again sterile and unfamiliar—white walls, bright overhead lights, the lingering scent of antiseptic. The nurse standing over me, shining a penlight directly into my pupils like I'm some lab experiment she needs to examine. "I said Good morning." she spoke, repeating herself. blinking hard, my vision struggling to adjust. My head is spinning, my thoughts tangled, but the burning in my gut snaps me into focus. "The hell just happened to me?" I hissed pushing against the sides of the pod, forcing myself upright even as my muscles scream in protest. My voice is raw, edged with fury. "What the fuck did you do to me? One second, I'm sitting doing a check up, and the next—I don't even remember laying in the pod and then going to that voided room ."I glared at her, my breathing heavy. My hands shake, not from fear, but from the adrenaline still flooding my system. The nurse doesn't flinch. Doesn't react at all. Just watches me with that same unreadable, clinical expression.

The nurse with the same even robotic tone spoke once more, "You completed your pre-trial. You qualified for the Echelon Trials. "I scoff, shaking my head. "Yeah, no shit. But how? I wasn't even trying. I was saying the dumbest shit I could think of. "The words taste bitter in my mouth. Because it was dumb luck. Because I wasn't supposed to be here. She doesn't answer. Just tilts her head slightly, like she's observing me, like I'm some puzzle piece she's trying to put together. The silence makes my skin crawl. My pulse pounds against my skull as frustration boils over. I slam my fist against the metal beside me, the impact ringing through the room.

 "Answer me! What the fuck did you do to me?!"Still, no reaction.

My breathing coming in harsh, uneven pulls, but before I can demand anything else, she speaks. "Your brother has already been transported.". The words don't register at first. "The—what?" I airily said. "Your brother. He has already been transported. He was in Room 303 correct?" The nurse spoke with the slightest bit of emotion creeping into her voice, the most I've heard since I met her. even still Everything inside me screeches to a halt. My body stiffens. The anger doesn't vanish, but it twists into something colder. "Where? Where is he?" I said coldly. "I believe he's already on the bus." My stomach drops. as I began shaking my head, "The bus?"

"Yes. He passed as well."

The world tilts.

No.

No, no, no—he wasn't even supposed to take this test. This was never his problem at least not yet he's to young, these damn games and these damn rule, fuck. 

I don't think. I just move

I lurched forward, shoving against the slick interior of the pod so hard that my body stumbles under its own momentum. My legs nearly give out beneath me, muscles locking up in protest after being dormant for who knows how long. Pain flares in my calves, my knees, a deep soreness radiating up my spine—but I don't stop. I can't stop.

I yank my legs free, my feet hitting the cold floor as I snatch my shoes from where they've been tossed beside the pod. My fingers fumble with them, no time for laces, just jamming them onto my feet before reaching for my jacket. The sticky pads still clinging to my chest pull as I move, thin wires dangling uselessly, sensors dragging against my skin.

Rip.

I tear them off in one brutal motion, my breath coming out in ragged gasps as I whirl toward the door. The adhesive on my temple and wrists pulls painfully as more wires snap away from me with each desperate step forward. My body is still sluggish, not fully caught up with my brain's demand to run, but I force it to move.

"Wait! You can't leave just yet."

The nurse's voice is sharp, more urgent than ever. I hear the scuff of her shoes as she steps forward, reaching for me. That same cool, robotic detachment she had before is gone.

Good.

The faster I move, the more resistance I feel—the lingering medical pads yanking at my skin, wires snapping like brittle twigs as I tear myself free from whatever test they were trying to conduct. The more I fight, the more wrong this all feels.

The nurse stares, wide-eyed, her composure cracking as I push forward.

She wasn't expecting this.

I see it in the way her hand hovers mid-air, uncertain, in the way her mouth parts slightly, as if trying to come up with a new command that will stop me in my tracks.

"I still have to run another physical exam to make sure your motor functions are working properly."

Her tone is measured, but there's something underneath it now—hesitation, maybe even shock.

I don't slow down. I reach the door, my breath burning in my chest. I twist my head just enough to throw a look over my shoulder.

"Looks like they work just fine to me."

My voice comes out rough, breathless, full of the kind of exhaustion that only comes from waking up to absolute bullshit.

I don't wait for a response. I bolt.

------

I tear down the hall, my heartbeat slamming against my ribs like a war drum. My legs are heavy, still stiff from whatever the hell they pumped into me back in that pod, but I push through it. The lights overhead blur as I sprint, my breath burning in my throat.

The nurse's voice echoes somewhere behind me, but I don't stop to listen. I don't care what she has to say. I only care about one thing—Raegan.

He wasn't supposed to be here. He wasn't supposed to take this test, I'm pissed they changed the rules last minute.

The bus stop comes into view, it was on the far right-side as I exited the old run down building, the sleek, unnatural-looking transport bus idling like it's been waiting just for me.

I don't slow down.

I leap onto the first step, my hands gripping the cold metal bar as I scan the rows of seats. My stomach twists.

Then—I see him.

Raegan is sitting near the middle, hunched slightly, his head resting against the window like he's trying to process everything. When he hears my footsteps, almost like sensing me, he looks up. His eyes widen.

"Raegan," I gasp, still breathless. "How did you—why are you here?"

He blinks at me, still startled, like he didn't expect to see me again so soon.

"I don't know," he mutters. "I only got three out of five right, and that was an accident."

Three...

I let out a sharp breath, running a hand through my hair.

"Three, huh?" I say, forcing down the frustration curling in my gut. "I guess that's all it takes."

Raegan shifts slightly in his seat, watching me. "You got three right as well?"

I let out a bitter laugh, dropping into the seat across from him. "Unfortunately."

He exhales, shaking his head. "Guess we'd better get comfy, huh? Where do you think we're going?"

I glance around the bus, the sterile interior humming softly, the overhead lights too clean, too bright. Something about it feels wrong—like we aren't passengers, but cargo.

I don't have an answer.

All I know is that we aren't going home.

"I don't know where," I admit, my voice low. "All I know is we're going to the Echelon Trials."

And whatever's waiting for us there… I have a feeling it's only the beginning.

The bus ride stretches on for what feels like hours. The further we go, the more the world outside warps into something unrecognizable. At first, it's just endless stretches of road cutting through forests and empty plains, but gradually, the landscape becomes harsher—more hostile. Trees thin into skeletal husks, the ground growing jagged and uneven. The occasional ruin of an abandoned town flickers past the window, buildings gutted by time, their frames rusted and broken, half-swallowed by creeping vines.

Then, the real isolation sets in.

The smooth pavement gives way to a dark, compacted dirt road, flanked by monolithic walls of steel. With every passing mile, they climb higher, towering above us, boxing us in, suffocating any sense of escape. Floodlights, mounted on massive pillars, carve through the shadows, sweeping over the bus like predatory eyes tracking prey.

I shift in my seat, my fingers curling into the fabric of my uniform pants. My pulse quickens.

This isn't just some facility.

It's a goddamn fortress.

The bus slows as we approach a final checkpoint—a pair of massive reinforced gates, thick slabs of black metal with no visible handles or hinges. They stand unmoving, ominous, until a sharp hiss of compressed air signals their opening.

We roll forward into a vast courtyard, and my stomach knots.

The compound is enormous—cold, industrial, a labyrinth of interconnected buildings stretching as far as I can see. Barbed wire coils along the walls like razor-fanged serpents. Drones hover soundlessly above, their lenses rotating, scanning. There are no windows, no signs, no indication of what this place even is. Just endless steel and concrete, sterile and hollow. The air is thick with the scent of damp metal, a sharp contrast to the dry dust kicked up by our arrival.

But it's the guards that make my skin crawl.

Lining the perimeter in rigid formation, they stand like statues—clad head to toe in matte black tactical gear, armored at the joints. But it's their helmets that unsettle me the most—smooth, featureless visors that reflect nothing, giving them an eerie, inhuman presence.

The bus hisses to a stop.

For a moment, no one moves. No one speaks. Then, the doors swing open, and one of the faceless figures steps forward.

"Exit the vehicle. Form a line."

The voice is distorted, processed through a modulator, stripped of any identifying traits. It could be a man or a woman. It could be anything.

But there's no room for disobedience.

One by one, we file off the bus. The instant my boots hit the ground, a biting wind cuts through my jacket. The entire compound feels wrong—too quiet, too controlled. Even the air itself seems to hold its breath. there was around 50 people per bus and about 10 buses that showed up. or at least from what I could hear people whisper about.

We barely manage to form a line before the guards start moving.

They don't give instructions. They don't explain. They just take.

One by one, recruits are grabbed and pulled away, funneled into different groups without a word of explanation. A hand clamps down on my shoulder, firm but not brutal, steering me away from Raegan.

No.

I plant my feet. "Wait—" I said turning my head, catching one last glimpse of him before another guard steps in, blocking my view.

"Keep moving."

The finality in their voice is absolute.

I grind my teeth, my muscles tensing. Every instinct in me screams to obey, to fall in line, to do what I'm told.

Screw that.

I twist hard, wrenching out of the guard's grip and shoving forward. Another hand latches onto my arm, but I yank free, planting myself between them and my brother.

"He stays with me."

A sharp tension ripples through the line. The guards tilt their heads in eerie unison, like machines processing an anomaly.

Then one of them moves.

I see the hand reaching for me again, slow, almost… testing. I swat it away, harder than I probably should. The impact is solid. The hesitation that follows is even better.

"Move." The guard's voice remains void of emotion, but I can tell they aren't used to being resisted.

I square my shoulders. "Not without him."

Raegan grips my wrist, trying to pull me back. His eyes flicker with panic. "Ryker, stop—"

I shake him off, my heart hammering against my ribs. I won't let them take him.

A larger guard steps forward, looming. The second his hand moves for Raegan, something inside me snaps.

I lunge.

I shove the guard back with my full weight. "I said wait! I just don't wanna be separated!"

The impact makes them stumble—a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. A ripple of movement spreads through the others. I barely get a second to process it before another one lunges at me.

I don't think. I react.

I twist out of the way, slamming my elbow into the side of their helmet. It's like hitting a slab of iron, but I don't care. Another guard reaches for me—I duck low, ramming my shoulder into their ribs.

Raegan shouts my name, his voice distant, but I can't stop.

A hand snatches the back of my jacket, yanking me off balance. I whip around, landing a solid punch to someone's arm, before another guard crashes into me from the side, forcing me down onto one knee.

I snarl, trying to fight back, trying to push up, when—

CRACK.

Blinding pain detonates through my skull as something heavy collides with the side of my head. My vision explodes in white-hot agony, then collapses into suffocating blackness.

The last thing I hear is Raegan, shouting my name, before everything fades away.