The Seventh | A Dark Matter Fanfiction | Two (Portia Lin)

Chapter 32

The airlock door closed with a resounding slam, trapping Wexler inside. Two stood on the other side, the safe side, her expression unreadable.

"It seems like we've come full circle, doesn't it?" Two's voice was calm, almost conversational.

Wexler glared at her, his bravado tinged with a hint of desperation. "You can threaten me all you like, but we both know you can't kill me. Without the code, your friends are dead."

Two's eyes narrowed slightly. "You're forgetting you're not the only one on this ship who knows how to open doors."

Wexler scoffed. "Oh, the little girl? You must be kidding."

"She's my insurance policy. In case you decide to be difficult."

Wexler's confidence wavered, but he held onto his skepticism. "She'll never crack that vault."

Two stepped closer to the window separating them. "You sure you want to take that chance? Because if she opens that door before you give me the code, you will regret it."

The calm in her voice sent chills down Wexler's spine. "I do not have to kill you quickly."

With that, Two pressed a button, and a hiss filled the air as the pressure began to drop inside the airlock.

Panic flickered across Wexler's face. "If I give you the code, you're just gonna blow me out anyway."

"Why? Because that's what you did to me?" Two's eyes flashed with cold fury. "I'm nothing like you, Wexler. If you give me the code, I will let you out."

Wexler hesitated, weighing his options. The hiss of escaping air grew louder, his breathing becoming labored.

"Okay," he finally said, desperation in his voice. "It's 1040-99XD-4. It was my serial number in prison."

Two nodded, her face giving nothing away. "You copy that?" she called out.

<>

Seven stood beside Five in the vault level as she worked on the passcode terminal. Her fingers flew over the keypad, tension palpable in the air.

"It's 1040-99XD-4. It was my serial number in prison"

"You copy that?"

Five quickly entered the passcode. The screen beeped, Access granted.

"Got it," Five confirmed, a note of relief in her voice.

The vault door creaked open slowly, revealing the dim interior. Inside, Four, Three, and Six stood ready with makeshift weapons, their stances wobbly from the lack of oxygen. Behind them, One lay sprawled on a crate, unconscious but breathing.

"We're ready," Three exclaimed, his voice woozy but determined. "Where are they?"

Seven stepped forward, a reassuring presence. "We took care of them. It's over."

Five spoke into the comms, her voice clear. "I got the door open. They're all pretty woozy, but I think they're going to be okay."

Three, blinking in confusion, looked around. "Who you talking to?"

<>

"Okay, I did my part. Now it's your turn," Wexler's voice pleaded, desperation creeping into his tone.

Two stood still, her expression unreadable as she contemplated her next move.

"Wexler, you said you were gonna let me out. Hey, quit screwing around," Wexler's voice pleaded, growing more frantic. "Alright, you're not a cold-blooded killer. You're not like me, remember?"