The Man Who Shouldn't Breathe

The silence inside the chamber was suffocating, despite the rhythmic hiss of the oxygen feeding the man in the pod. Kaela stood frozen, her reflection ghosting in the frost-laced glass that separated her from the sleeping monster of their past.

Deren Vale.

Once a whisper of a name. Now a reality suspended in cryo-stasis, preserved like some twisted artifact of war.

His eyes were closed, but even unconscious, his presence carried the weight of every nightmare etched into their history — the memory-murdering drones, the neural silence networks, the propaganda AI that had rewritten love letters into confessions of treason.

Ava stepped closer, her voice a shaky whisper. "He looks… human."

Kaela's eyes didn't waver. "That's what makes him dangerous."

Behind them, Joren worked on a side terminal, eyes scanning the encrypted logs left behind by the archivists.

"Whoever sealed this place wanted him forgotten," he muttered. "But the system's integrity… it's too perfect. Someone's been keeping him alive."

Kaela turned sharply. "Recently?"

Joren nodded, his jaw tight. "The pod logs show oxygen filters were swapped three weeks ago. Battery core replaced. Someone has access."

The implications sank in like a blade to the gut.

"He's not abandoned," Ava said. "He's being… protected."

Suddenly, the chamber lights flickered — once, twice — and then a low groan rumbled from the back wall. A hidden panel slid open.

A corridor, long and narrow, illuminated by flickering blue lights, stretched into shadow.

Kaela drew her gun. "We're not alone."

They moved as one — Kaela in front, Ava and Joren flanking. The corridor smelled of metal and old blood. Each footstep echoed like a scream swallowed by time.

The hallway ended in another room — circular, with walls covered in hand-scrawled notes, holographic images, and tangled wires. Surveillance feeds blinked from decades-old monitors. Some still showed active footage.

One of them displayed the rebel compound.

Ava gasped. "They've been watching us."

Kaela's fingers trembled as she picked up a dusty journal from the console. Pages filled with strange calculations, neural maps… and pages torn from children's storybooks layered with fragmented codes.

Joren pointed at a photo pinned to the wall — a black-and-white picture of Deren Vale with a woman. She looked hauntingly familiar.

Kaela's blood turned to ice.

"That's my mother," she whispered.

Everything inside her went still.

Ava looked between them. "That means…"

Kaela's heart pounded. "That man… isn't just the architect of our enemy's mind control. He might be connected to me."

A deep, synthetic voice crackled from a speaker in the corner.

"You were never meant to find this place."

All guns turned toward the sound. But no one appeared.

"She was supposed to keep you away. But Kaela… you always were too curious for your own good."

"Who the hell are you?" Kaela shouted.

The voice paused — almost amused.

"Your questions have just begun. But answers come with cost."

Suddenly, alarms blared — red lights drenched the chamber in emergency glow. The pod began to unseal.

Kaela's eyes widened.

"No. No, shut it down!"

Joren rushed to the terminal, fingers flying across the interface.

"I can't stop it. It's remote-triggered."

Steam hissed as the cryo chamber cracked open. Deren Vale's eyes fluttered… then opened.

They were steel gray. Cold. A mirror of Kaela's own.

And he smiled.