Chapter 2 — Whispers in the Dark

Xander barely slept.

The cot they gave him was little more than an old mattress on crates, tucked between the cold concrete wall and a stack of rusted pipes. The low hum of generators, the occasional hiss of steam, and murmured voices kept him awake. But it wasn't the noise that gnawed at him.

It was the weight.

The weight of what he was. Of what GeneCorp had done. Of what they still wanted from him.

He stared up at the cracked ceiling, eyes heavy but mind racing.

Somewhere, his parents were either prisoners or experiments. Somewhere, GeneCorp scientists had files on him labeled Asset-Class Omega. He didn't know what that meant, only that it terrified them enough to send hunters after him rather than bounty agents.

He turned onto his side. In the faint light of a lantern, he could see the makeshift camp around him. People — dirty, tired, broken — but alive. A boy no older than ten clutching a patchwork teddy bear. An elderly woman adjusting an old-fashioned oxygen mask. Two men arguing in whispers over supplies.

Survivors.

And now, he'd dragged hell straight to their door.

A soft rustle broke his thoughts.

Mara sat beside him, legs crossed, fiddling with a small metal device. Her scarf was gone, and her hair, damp from the tunnels, clung to her neck. Her eyes, sharp and green, flicked up and met his.

"Can't sleep?" she asked softly.

He shook his head.

"You get used to it," she said with a faint smile. "The noise, the cold… the fear."

Xander sat up, running a hand through his damp hair. "How long have you been down here?"

Mara shrugged. "A year. Maybe more. Lost count."

He hesitated. "Family?"

A shadow passed over her face. "Gone."

He didn't press.

She tapped the metal device — a worn-down hacking tool, he realized. "You're not like the others GeneCorp hunts."

Xander looked at her, wary.

"They send bounty squads for smugglers. Drones for rebels. But for you… Enforcers. Heavy units. That's big."

"I don't know why," he said, though it sounded hollow.

Mara gave him a knowing look. "You're lying."

He looked away.

She didn't push, just nodded thoughtfully. "Whatever they want… you can't let them have it."

"I don't plan to."

A pause.

"You should talk to Voss," she said finally. "Before he makes decisions without you."

Xander exhaled. "He doesn't trust me."

"None of us trust anyone down here," Mara said simply. "But we fight together anyway."

She stood, stretching. "Come on."

He blinked. "Now?"

"Now."

They left the cot behind and moved through the camp. The deeper they went, the more signs of desperation became clear — patchwork medical tents, ration crates marked with old corporate logos, power cables cobbled together from different decades.

This wasn't a rebellion with grand armies. This was survival.

They reached a chamber where Voss sat hunched over a table, surrounded by old screens displaying security feeds from abandoned tunnels.

He looked up as they entered, his cybernetic eye whirring faintly.

"You should've come to me sooner," he said without preamble.

Xander tensed.

Voss gestured to a chair. "Sit."

He obeyed, Mara leaning against the wall nearby.

Voss steepled his fingers. "You're a liability. But… also a weapon. We need weapons."

Xander stayed silent.

"GeneCorp's tightened patrols," Voss continued. "Enforcers in the mid-sectors. Agents in the lower streets. They're not just hunting you; they're hunting anyone who helps you."

Xander's stomach twisted.

Voss leaned forward. "I need to know what you are."

Xander hesitated. Then: "I don't know."

Voss frowned.

"They called me Omega-Class," Xander admitted. "My parents worked for GeneCorp. Genetic engineers. They… experimented on embryos. Before I was even born."

Mara inhaled sharply.

"I think I was one of their projects," Xander continued, voice low. "I overheard things… before they took my parents. They called me 'anomaly'… 'unpredictable asset.' I think they're afraid of what I could become."

Voss sat back heavily.

Mara spoke softly. "What can you do?"

Xander shook his head. "Nothing. I'm… normal. No powers. No enhancements. I've been scanned more times than I can count. I'm clean."

Voss was silent for a long moment. Then: "That's what scares them the most."

Xander blinked.

"They've designed soldiers, assassins, and superhuman prototypes," Voss said quietly. "All carefully controlled. All predictable. But if you're an anomaly… something they can't measure… you're a threat they can't manage."

Xander swallowed.

Voss stood. "We can protect you. But only if you help us."

"How?"

"We're planning a raid," Voss said. "A supply convoy. GeneCorp-grade medicine and equipment. We hit them hard, we get what we need… and maybe we send a message."

Xander hesitated. "I'm not a fighter."

Voss's expression was grim. "Down here, you'll learn fast."

Mara looked at Xander. "You in?"

He exhaled slowly. He'd been running for so long. Maybe it was time to fight back.

"I'm in."

Voss nodded. "Good. Briefing at dawn."

As they turned to leave, Voss called out. "Xander."

He looked back.

"If you feel anything strange… tell me."

Xander nodded, though uncertainty gnawed at him.

He didn't sleep at all that night.

---

The next morning, the camp buzzed with quiet tension.

Voss gathered them around a holographic map projected from a salvaged device. Red markers indicated patrols. Blue marked safe zones.

"The convoy moves along Sector-4 bridge at 1300 hours," Voss explained. "Heavily armored. Two hovertrucks, four escort drones, and two human security teams. We hit fast, we hit hard."

Mara nudged Xander, whispering, "You sure you're ready for this?"

"No," he admitted.

"Perfect," she smirked.

The rebels armed themselves with an assortment of weapons — old ballistic rifles, energy blasters cobbled together from scrap, EMP charges. Xander was given a lightweight pulse pistol and a blast-resistant vest several sizes too big.

They moved out in groups, slipping through maintenance shafts and sewer tunnels toward the target zone.

Xander's heart pounded as he crouched beside Mara on an overlook above the bridge.

Below, the convoy approached — sleek black trucks bearing the GeneCorp insignia. Drones hovered alongside, scanning the surroundings with red beams.

Voss's voice crackled in their earpieces. "Positions."

Mara touched her earpiece. "Team Two ready."

Voss: "On my mark."

Xander's pulse thundered in his ears.

The lead truck slowed at a checkpoint.

"Mark."

Explosions ripped through the air as EMP charges detonated, frying the drones mid-flight. Sparks rained down like fireworks.

The rebels opened fire.

Mara leapt from cover, blaster in hand, firing precise shots that took down two security agents before they could react.

Xander followed clumsily, pulse pistol shaking in his hand. He fired — missed — fired again. A shot grazed a guard's shoulder.

The fight was chaos. Screams. Explosions. The sharp hiss of pulse fire slicing through the humid air.

A drone recovered and turned toward Xander, its cannon charging.

Mara tackled him out of the way just as the blast scorched the ground where he'd been.

"Focus!" she snapped.

He scrambled to his feet, heart pounding.

The battle turned in their favor. The convoy guards fell one by one. The rebels swarmed the trucks, prying open crates of medical supplies.

Then — a high-pitched screech echoed across the bridge.

Mara's face paled. "Reinforcements."

From above, sleek black dropships descended. GeneCorp shock troopers — clad in heavy armor, armed with advanced plasma rifles — rappelled down.

Xander froze.

Mara grabbed his arm. " run!"

But the troops landed faster than expected. Gunfire erupted anew, sharper, deadlier. Rebels fell screaming.

Voss's voice crackled in their ears. "Fall back! Fall back!"

Mara pulled Xander into cover.

A shock trooper advanced on their position, firing bursts that scorched the concrete inches from their heads.

Xander felt something stir deep in his chest — a strange pressure, like static building under his skin.

His vision sharpened. His heartbeat slowed.

He stood before he could think.

The shock trooper fired — and Xander moved. Faster than he thought possible. He sidestepped, the world blurring, and closed the distance between them in two heartbeats.

Instinct took over. He grabbed the trooper's wrist, twisted, disarmed him, and drove his elbow into the man's throat with bone-crushing force.

The trooper crumpled.

Mara stared.

Xander blinked, panting. "I… I don't…"

"Xander," she whispered. "What the hell was that?"

He didn't know.

But it felt like the beginning of something he couldn't stop.