YOU LET THIS HAPPEN, MIKE.

The Flare That Wasn't Light

Stanton had come searching for answers — or perhaps just to confirm what he already feared — beneath an oppressive night sky where the stars looked like open wounds. The cracked earth beneath his feet swallowed the wind. Or something else. Something that breathed low, crawling unseen, aware of his solitary presence.

On the edge of a forgotten platform of fractured concrete, Stanton stood firm. The wind hissed, cold, as he rubbed Sara’s ring — a traitorous tic, an anchor in a sea of unreality. His gaze brushed against the cold metal of the inactive OmniBrace on his other wrist — another constant reminder.

The Presence That Tore the Air

The dry air scratched his throat. Impossible echoes brushed his hearing, like ancient secrets whispered by dust. Nothing explained how he had gotten there — only that he’d been pulled in. Shadows pulsed, suggesting impossible structures, memories projected into the air.

Then, the OmniBrace lit up red: ANOMALY. The word tore through the air like a scream. Something there recognized him. A figure appeared beside him — dense shadow, stained uniform, empty eyes. "It's active," it murmured.

The Name the Abyss Whispered

Space twisted. Green glyphs stitched the air. The technician unraveled into silence. A green flare tore through the ground — hunger, not light. Reality buckled. The NeX-111 bunker emerged from the soil. Not rising — waiting. As if calling out for the right name.

"You let this happen, Mike." Guilt spoke. The face in the concrete — almost his, but with dead eyes. The terminal pulsed. A skeletal finger touched the glass. The abyss welcomed him. He already knew. And so did it.