Chapter One
Fleeing the Abyss
He ran.
Max tore down an endless corridor, each breath a ragged intake against the blare of alarms that screamed from every direction. His lungs burned. His legs drove forward not because he had planned this moment but because the alternative was unthinkable.
The Black Box had treated them as lab rats — tools for experiments they called necessary and humane. Individuality had meant nothing inside those walls. All they had wanted were perfect, obedient subjects.
“Subject 17 and Subject 23 have escaped,”
The announcement cut through the alarms with surgical precision, and Max’s jaw tightened. No names. Never names. Only numbers.
Amid the chaos, Subject 17 faltered. His breathing had grown ragged before his knees buckled entirely, and he dropped — forcing Max to stop.
Despite his weakness, he had been the reason they were this far.
The planning.
The distractions.
The exploited security gaps.
All him.
Kindness was often a weakness. Max had seen it proven inside the Box, where compassion was punished without mercy.
Still — he lifted the boy onto his back. He ignored every instinct screaming at him to run. Their ragged breathing cut through the cold, metallic corridor as his legs burned beneath the added weight.
As the guards closed in, something broke through the chaos like a blade of light: a hazy blur, a commanding voice, figures dressed in blue.
ten years later
Sunlight streamed through the window, stark against the shadows of the nightmare he was clawing his way out of.
A steady beeping had replaced the sirens. Similar, but not a threat — just a clock. A reminder of a night ten years gone. Now it meant only one thing: get up for school.
He was awake. Alive. Free.
Undeterred by the alarm, Sam Safara remained stubbornly asleep, an absurd grin plastered across his face. Max studied him for a moment, then nudged him with a sigh.
“Time for school, Blockhead.”
He resisted the urge to shove him off the bed. Barely.