Prologue
Rain fell on a city lost to time. Rooftops too close together. Alleys vanishing into dark. That night, Arin Sheido sat on a rooftop, hood up, counting lights in the lab district. He pressed a black notebook to his chest and hid when two men in white coats strolled past. They didn’t see him. This time.
Who is Arin?
Arin was seventeen, restless, and ran from every rule. If you ever slipped out after midnight, hoping to see something forbidden, you’d know how he felt. Success at school never warmed him, friends only wanted simple things: cafe meetups, video games, safe secrets. But Arin wanted more than that. He wanted truth. And underneath that—he wanted family back. Years ago, his sister vanished near Presara Labs. They called her dead. He called them liars.
Would you walk into a place marked DO NOT ENTER if you thought someone you loved was trapped inside?
The Experiment Room
The crux? Arin’s plan meant trespassing the next night. Hard to get much sleep when your heart pounds out codes and exit routes till dawn. The city’s border meant patrol ships and retinal gates. Arin tried the hidden stream to get close, then scaled the entrance wall, using wire grip boots he pieced together out of old racing gloves and bike parts. Rain made him slip—his coat caught glass. Below, he saw white-tiled hallways. People yelling, metal carts squeaking. None of the photos online matched this place.
The Keeper Appears
The next thing down there? Mai Koto, his best friend since fourth grade. Hair tied up, lab badge fake but convincing. Arin’s breath caught. Why was she here?
- Arin: “Mai, what are you—”
- Mai: (mouths) “Run! Now!”
- Guard: (off-screen roar) “Hey! You!”
He dropped right into chaos. Boxes ready to tip, a clipboard landing like a broken wing—someone grabbed his collar, yanked, and he found himself staring into glowing blue eyes.
The Black Door
Why do seals and warning stickers always look older when you’re inches away? That’s the elevator door near Unit 07D. Local kids called it the Black Door—said it ran all the way beneath the city. Deep space below, where nothing returned the same. Arin paused, wondering what fear did to the mind. The old wires and scorched paint. Was that a whisper or just nerves?
He hit the code Mai had once scribbled—7, 0, 7, 1. The world trembled while it opened. Ear ringing silence, then a distant cry. Could this be Reza? His missing sister?
Would you go through, knowing you might not find your way back?
The Test Subjects
The labs had people—but not how Arin remembered them. Thin gloves clutched arms in too-tight coats. Paper sheets marked “Asset: Viable.” They wanted new forms, g-engineers wrote on-walls. That meant the cloned shifter boy with white hair, sketching escape plans on notebook corners. The old woman, eyes ringed with gold, whispering codes in sleep:
- Code BETA. They called it the Project Godskin.
- Shifter Ratio: 52 survives of 569 attempts.
- Failures: burned, buried, silent—all written in neat, perfect print.
The True Connection
Mai risked everything slipping Arin in, giving cover and codes. Where was her own reason? On day two, over a deck of spilt old playing cards, Arin got the truth. She wasn’t a thief—she’d been recruited by researchers bent on cracking human structure, hired for her memory. Arin, voice low:”So you work for them now?” Mai shook: “It’s not like that. Somebody’s got to help them… help you.”
Powers in Play
The experiments run daily—genome shuffle, memory wipe, organ graft. Any of these could set a mind loose forever. Two kids called Keel and Jin got fingers swapped, then reset when tissues fused. Why do labs grow brave and careless so fast?
But the weirdest truth, Mai told, was this: the failures weren’t errors. Sometimes results were wanted when subjects failed. That gave the project its edge. Strain, suffering, breakage, did you think they cared about the rest?
This gnawed at Arin. Who chooses who hurts? Who draws the line? Ask yourself—if you could save your family by hurting five strangers, would you?
Sorin: The Lead
He watches every experiment from behind one-way glass. Always has hands clean, recording fails and data points in books he writes later in code. Arin spies him making a call out by the loading zone: “Run ID check at all exits. Full gene scan. Frame’s on the loose.” For the first time, Arin counts himself not just as prey, but possible test subject.
Tension Builds
Evenings turn harsh. Every stair creaks. Arin and Mai sneak bigger risks. Death isn’t their fear—worst is sight of what they might become if caught. Genome glass cages hold subjects who used to breathe, talk dreams and old wishes; now they crawl inside cold, sealed pods. Mai starts leaving coded notes. Each one falls apart in the rain. Night rounds get closer. Doors you thought easy just jam at the worst times.
The Escape Plan
The pair plot one Hail Mary run. Needs codehedge (scrambler), dazzle fob, and fastest set of nerves. Will everything work? Fatigue dulls hands. Trust goes just so far before nerves set on edge.
But, right before lockdown, a voice clicks over loudspeakers. Sharp, impossible not to know. It’s Reza. The sound is real, so close—she isn’t dead. “It’s not too late. Leave now. Before you’re changed.” The final puzzle: Is she warning, or is she lost herself?
Would you keep searching if hope could kill you?
Cliffhanger
The last shot: Arin, pressed flat as alarms sound. Guards close. Mai’s hand on floor, right by a cracked old photo: Arin and Reza at a festival, so young they seem made from someone else’s story. Cut to black. What waits behind the locked pods? Was freedom ever theirs, or did the city turn them into test subjects long before the first cut?
