IMPENDING DOOM

07

✥
SEVEN
Cold
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៚ COMMANDER WALTERS WOKE UP SWEATING. A gunshot echoed and a boy's screams rang in his ears, followed by the thud of a girl's body.

Four decades have passed since he dreamt of them. Of that boy and that girl.

He didn't believe in dreams or anything of that category, but he wasn't a fool. For their faces to resurface—after ten years of therapy and slow healing for them to die off—meant something.

Something cold settled in his chest.

Something happened. Or was about to. Perhaps both.

He dressed in a flash and made his way to Headquarters in a crazed state. One of many agents, a woman, addressed him with genuine respect and bid him a good morning.

But there was no time for formalities. "Project Shadow. Now."

She blinked. "Sir?"

"Now," he hissed. Shaking. Sweating. "I, I need to see it. I need to see that boy."

The agent nodded, uncertain. Confused. Concerned. The only things she knew of this Project Shadow was that it was a black site by a former Robotnik genius (or madman, as everyone else murmured) and where the coordinates led to. She wisely knew nothing more.

So that boy struck a chord in her chest.

Walters knew damn well where the coordinates led to, but he let her lead him all the same. She walked a firm pace, neither too fast nor too slow, and they eventually came to that dark hallway and its suspicious, lonely door.

He hastily entered the five-digit code, wrinkled fingers shaking whilst he did so. The numbers were a hidden word he only knew because the former Robotnik told him—reluctantly, knowing death would greet him soon, that he had no other choice. Six two seven four two. It was Robotnik's special password; it spelt a name.

Her name.

Again Walters heard the boy scream and the girl's body hit the floor.

He shuddered.

"Sir?"

He ignored the agent's concern, almost running inside the frigid room. It was freezing and dark and hidden—just as his grandfather left it.

Walters was a young man in his twenties when he was last in this very room. The boy was sobbing and cursing them, kicking and screaming, hating them—so strong for his size—until he was forced to sleep; sleep what they all hoped would be forever, peacefully slip away to death.

The former Robotnik had stroked the boy's head and lay him down in his cold crypt, shaking as the agents put the boy in chains.

Walters would never forget what the former Robotnik said to his grandfather. His last words before they sentenced him to death.

The devil will come for you.

Taking deep breaths, Walters wasted no time. "Computer, status report."

"Vitals are stable. Unchanged since the last update. Project Shadow continues to sleep, silenced as requested."

(A lie only we are aware of. The AI hasn't the slightest of what you and I know, thanks to the Doctor's genius.)

The cold in the commander's chest melted. Only a little. Relief was only a pat on the shoulder, nothing significant or reassuring. He had to see it. He had to see the boy whose life he ruined for himself.

"Computer, open it."

"Opening capsule."

It resurfaced, just as it had for Agent Stone. Lights flickered on, air hissed. We know how it went; we've seen it before.

The truth revealed, Walters choked. The cold in his chest became ice.

The capsule was empty. The boy was gone.

The devil will come for you.

Little did he know, but he could guess, that the devil was, indeed, on his way.

Seventy-two hours remain.