The elevator was silent — unnervingly so.
Smooth walls of dark reflective alloy shifted with faint pulses of light, veins of circuitry running like blood beneath skin.
No buttons. No numbers. Just motion.
Controlled. Precise.
The man stood tall at the center. Impeccably dressed in a black three-piece suit that hugged his frame with militaristic precision.
Not a wrinkle on him. Not a flicker of emotion.
His bald head caught the faint light like polished marble. Eyes obscured behind pitch-black shades that reflected nothing — not even the flickering pulses around him.
His hands rested in his pockets.
His posture was relaxed, but not idle.
Composed. Calculating. Cold.
The hum of descent slowed — not with friction, but with deliberate restraint, as though whatever lay beneath didn't want to be disturbed.
A chime sounded — soft, yet final.
The elevator stopped. The doors didn't open.
Not yet.
The silence deepened.
Like the breath before a verdict.
And still — he didn't move.
The doors slid open without a sound.
Cool, sterile air rushed in — laced with a faint chemical tang, and something colder… something unnatural.
He stepped forward.
The corridor opened to a vast underground research complex — multi-tiered, dark and metallic, with narrow catwalks and towering walls lined in flickering screens and data columns.
Dim lighting bathed the facility in hues of icy blue and harsh white, shadows cutting sharp across the room like blades.
Below him, dozens of tubes—thick, reinforced, glasslike vessels—lined the floor in strict rows, each humming with a faint electric pulse. Tethered inside them, half-submerged in glowing suspension fluid, floated creatures that should not exist.
Their bodies were gaunt—unnaturally tall, stick-thin, ribcages pronounced like armor beneath glistening charcoal-black flesh. Limbs long and wrong, with fingers that looked like they could reach across the stars.
Their smooth, featureless heads were crowned with enormous eyes — or rather, sockets — completely black, void of reflection.
No nose. No mouth.
Just silence.
They weren't uniform. Some stood seven feet tall. Others far taller. But each one bore the same eerie, inhuman symmetry.
Each was connected by the nape to the ceiling by a thick, white synthetic umbilical cord, pulsing faintly. Feeding something into them. Or drawing something out.
They floated, still — unconscious. But their presence whispered danger. Like sleeping gods.
Above them, the man in black walked slowly along the upper railing.
From below, scientists—clad in sleek, cyberpunk uniforms laced with glowing wires and metallic joints—rushed about. Data pads in hand, visors glowing, tubes being monitored. But the moment they noticed him, they parted.
Not a word.
Just silent deference.
Like shadows retreating from something darker.
He reached the top of the stairs.
And then — without pause — began to descend.
Step by step.
Towards the true monster.
He approached the figure at the center of it all — standing unmoving before the flickering holograms, utterly immersed in recalibrating the data projections of the creatures in the tubes.
From afar, the figure looked like a shadow spliced with neon — tall, lean, and composed like a weapon in stasis. But as he drew closer, the details came into sharper focus.
The figure's skin was a bruised reddish-brown, deep and richly toned with an unnatural hue that shimmered subtly under the blue ambient light of the underground facility.
His long, elven ears curved sharply backwards, twitching faintly with sound and precision.
His black hair was pulled into a high ponytail, slick and coiled, with a single strand curving dramatically across his face like a blade, cutting diagonally over his right eye.
That single strand gave him a strange nobility — chaotic but elegant.
His eyes were piercing: the left blood red, the right more muted and corrupted, surrounded by veins of black and a scar running vertically through it.
That eye didn't shine — it burned.
It was an eye of experience, of damage. Of power.
Strapped tightly over the lower half of his face was a metallic breathing mask, industrial in design.
It looked custom, reinforced with armor plating, vented across both cheeks with tiny round ports, and secured to his head by side bolts and black straps.
From its base extended a set of thick breathing valves, almost fanglike, where a luminous green fluid surged and pulsed in rhythmic bursts.
That same glowing fluid curled unnaturally around his neck — forming a sentient-looking scarf of viscous, jelly-like energy, wrapping protectively and pulsating faintly with life.
He wore a formal dark vest, tightly tailored and lined with fine gold piping that ran cleanly along the collar and hem.
The vest buttoned with ornate brass toggles, paired with a blood-red undershirt — the sleeves subtly puffed at the shoulders, adding a strange mix of old-world elegance and modern edge.
His collar flared slightly at the base of the neck, hinting at refinement beneath his monstrous appearance.
Despite the horror of the tubes around him, he wasn't horrified.
He was calm.
Almost…
Regal.
He worked the holograms with precise, clawed fingers, not sparing a glance for the man in black approaching behind him.
Not because he hadn't noticed.
But because he already knew.
He'd been expecting this visit.
The room thrummed with a low hum — cold, clinical, and heavy with secrets. As the man in the black suit approached, the taller figure before the holograms didn't turn. His hands continued gliding through the air, dragging blue glyphs into place.
"Where've you been?"
The voice didn't come from his mouth — it echoed telepathically, laced with dry sarcasm, smooth and knowing like silk over a dagger.
"Too important to check in? Or just hiding again?"
The man in the suit — bald, sharp-jawed, sunglasses still on indoors — clicked his tongue as he folded his arms.
"I've been where I need to be," he muttered, a Cockney accent thickening with the irritation in his tone.
"Someone's gotta keep this whole circus covered. Funding, tech, systems… every one of these bloody experiments has a price tag."
The man by the tubes chuckled — low, elegant, mocking.
"Yes. You play errand boy well."
"Don't patronise me," the man in black scoffed.
"I'm the reason this place even runs. While you stand here waving your fingers at glowing lights, I'm out there making sure no one finds out what the hell we're doing."
The figure finally turned — red and black eyes scanning him with icy calm, unshaken.
"And yet here we are. Stagnating."
He turned back to the tubes.
"The prototypes are improving. But I'll need more resources. Precision isn't cheap. And if the master wants perfection…"
He gestured toward a particular tube — one near the center, larger than the rest, with faint cracks in the glass.
"…then perfection must be engineered."
He raised a hand and pressed a glowing panel. Instantly, the fluid inside hissed and the subject within lurched to life.
It was taller than the others — the same skin, same eerie build, but its eyes opened violently, glowing black.
The creature smashed a clawed hand against the glass as it screamed, no sound, only a shattering frequency that rattled the walls.
It threw itself at the glass. Once. Twice. Then—
The figure calmly pressed the button again. Instantly, the tube flushed and the being slumped back into sedation, floating lifeless once more.
"They are not stable. Not yet. They have the strength, the speed, even the instinct. But no control. No will we can bend. Until that is solved… they are liabilities."
He looked toward his guest. "And The Fallen won't accept liabilities."
The man in black scoffed, jaw clenching.
"That's my job. Managing liabilities."
"And mine is perfection," the figure said, tone now steel wrapped in velvet. "Unlike you, I'm not replaceable. I'm one of the only generals who doesn't need a leash."
There was a pause.
A heavy one.
The man in the suit bit down the rage behind his teeth, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Whatever," he muttered, turning to leave. "I'll get our enforcer to send you what you need. Just make sure it's worth it. Can't keep covering this mess up — we're starting to leave traces."
He stepped into the shadows without another glance.
The scientist stared at the stilled prototype.
Expression unreadable behind his mask.
But his eyes…
His eyes were full of calculation.