CHAPTER 23 — PRISONERS OF THE DAWN
The wind slashed across the plateau like blades of ice.
Dust swirled into silent eddies under the gray sky.
Elias Thorne stood motionless, his rifle still raised, cold eyes staring at the encirclement of White Dawn soldiers.
Beside him, Grimm and Ash growled softly, tense as coiled springs.
Viktor Hale stood rigid, his hand close to his holster.
But it was useless.
There were too many.
Far too many, even for Elias.
---
The enemy commander stepped forward.
She was tall, broad-shouldered, her posture blending military authority with religious fanaticism.
Her light-gray uniform was immaculate, adorned with unknown insignias.
On her chest, the emblem of the White Dawn gleamed — a white sun against black.
She removed her helmet, revealing short blonde hair and cold, glassy blue eyes.
---
"Elias Thorne," she said, her voice sharp and clear. "In the name of the White Dawn, you are under custody. Surrender your weapons and you will not be harmed."
Elias remained silent.
Analyzing.
Calculating.
Blood pulsed at his temples.
Grimm and Ash were poised to spring at the slightest gesture.
But Elias's mind, trained for survival, knew:
Fighting now would be suicide.
---
He flicked his eyes to Hale, who answered with a slight nod:
"Wait. Buy time."
Elias took a deep breath.
He lowered the rifle slowly.
Grimm and Ash snarled, reluctant but obeyed their master's silent command.
The commander gestured, and the soldiers closed in, weapons aimed but holding fire.
A ring of iron and powder tightened around them.
---
As the soldiers disarmed Elias and Hale, a movement to the left caught his eye.
A new figure emerged from the White Dawn ranks.
Tall.
Broad.
Dark hair, hard eyes.
But it was the smile — that cynical, mocking smile — that froze Elias in place.
Malcolm Voss.
A former scientist from Project Prometheus.
Directly responsible for the experiments that had created Elias.
Responsible for countless horrors.
---
Elias's stomach churned.
Every instinct screamed to attack, to kill.
But he forced himself to remain still.
There would be time — soon — to settle scores.
Voss approached, that same infuriating smile on his lips.
---
"Look who we found wandering the ashes," Voss said, his voice dripping with mockery. "The precious Thorne. Still intact, it seems."
Elias said nothing.
Silence was his only victory for now.
Voss smirked wider, clearly savoring the moment.
---
The commander resumed:
"You will be transported to our containment center." She turned to her soldiers. "Handle them carefully. They are valuable assets."
Assets.
Not men.
Not living beings.
Assets.
---
They were shackled with reinforced cuffs embedded with shock devices.
Even Grimm and Ash were muzzled and chained with heavy restraints.
What burned Elias the most wasn't the imprisonment.
It was the knowledge:
Every step of this operation had been meticulously planned.
They had been hunted for a long time.
Perhaps since the moment Elias had accepted that first mission over the radio.
---
Forced into a march, they crossed the barren plateau.
The White Dawn's vehicles waited beyond the rocks: armored trucks, all bearing the same grim emblem.
Elias and Hale were shoved into one of the trucks, while Grimm and Ash were locked in separate reinforced cages.
Inside the transport, the air was stifling.
The engine roared like a wounded beast.
The journey began.
---
For a while, no one spoke.
Elias kept his eyes half-closed, observing.
Counting soldiers.
Mapping vulnerabilities.
Cataloging every flaw in their armor, every gap in their formation.
He was trapped, but not defeated.
Not yet.
---
After nearly an hour, Hale broke the silence:
"You recognized him," he said quietly.
"Malcolm Voss," Elias murmured back. "One of the project's architects."
"I thought he died when the complex fell."
"So did I," Elias muttered.
The fact that Voss had survived meant the corruption from the past had also survived — and now it thrived under new banners.
---
The truck jolted violently across rough terrain.
Elias tasted metallic anger in his mouth.
But he kept his mind cold.
Focused.
Planning.
---
After several hours, they arrived at a remote compound, surrounded by electrified fences and watchtowers.
The walls were solid steel, windowless — designed to contain anything.
Or anyone.
They were pulled from the vehicles at gunpoint.
Grimm and Ash fought fiercely but were ultimately subdued, needing four soldiers just to contain Grimm.
Their snarls echoed in the cold corridors.
---
Inside the facility, they were separated.
Hale was taken to a different wing.
Elias, however, was escorted by two heavily armed guards into an underground elevator.
The lift descended steadily, the steel walls rushing past like a grim reminder:
There was no going back.
When the doors opened, Elias almost recoiled.
What he saw was worse than he had imagined.
---
The laboratory was a grotesque fusion of steel and flesh.
Pods lined the walls.
Inside them — humans.
Or what remained of them.
Some still breathed, tethered to machines.
Others were grotesquely deformed, twisted by unspeakable experiments.
The sounds — heavy breathing, rapid heartbeats, incoherent whispers — formed a symphony of horror.
Elias felt a wave of nausea.
But he kept his face blank.
He would not give them the satisfaction of seeing him broken.
---
At the center of the room stood Voss.
Arms crossed.
Smiling.
Like an executioner savoring his victim's terror.
---
"Welcome to the future, Thorne," Voss said. "You'll feel right at home."
Elias said nothing.
He scanned the room, noting exits, blind spots, potential weapons.
The battle hadn't started yet.
But it would.
Soon.
And when it did...
Hell would not be enough.