With a watch on his wrist, no memory of his past, and a puzzle-filled room, Atlas tries desperately to escape the elevators.
Upon waking to darkness, Atlas stumbles into the white room. His desire for answers driving his feet to move. In the firs...
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Chaos.
That was the first thing Atlas noticed as they bust through the security room doors. The abundance of guards yelling and bustling past was alarming. Most were cursing with their heads tucked down. In the rush, not a single guard raised their head to look at the male standing by the door.
Hope pulled her helmet over her head and Atlas mimicked. Better safe than sorry. The pair rushed through the corridor and towards the exit.They needed to beat the hoard there to usher everyone to freedom. Atlas felt the familiar thump as his feet hit the floor in a light jog. They cut corners and bounced to the main doors.
A few turns away from the large gate Atlas noticed the chaos that had consumed the hallways had disbanded. Nobody dared to disturb the silence. It's heavy and eerie calls beckoned Atlas to turn and run the opposite direction. He knew he couldn't do that.
Fighting his instincts, Atlas picked up his pace and pushed around the last curve. The general stood waiting for them as they slipped into the open. Rifles were raised with the general's hand. Atlas ground his teeth in rage, welcoming the sight of a hundred gun barrels trained on him. The army surrounded the evil matron like blind sheep to a shepherd. Her word was law and they were the foolish puppets who had fallen victim to her lies.
"So you finally decided to show up." Her sinister voice echoed in the vast room, "You see, we have known about this little infestation for a while now." Her tone mocked them as she stepped closer. Her hands clasped firmly behind her back.
"Someone has been giving the enemy information. Now we finally know the identities of the mole. Squadron eleven. Everyone else is here and accounted for." Her wrinkled smirk filled Atlas with bile as her yellowed teeth peeked from her lips. Atlas moved towards the woman, but was quickly halted by the sound of loaded guns. Some stray shells clinked on the ground as hundreds of helmets stared down the sights to the perpetrators. Hope grabbed his wrist and took his hand in her own, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
"Please remove your helmets and turn in your identification. You have no more need for names. You will be perfect or Project 87. As you know, we here at the Savannah Laboratory specialize in intellectual studies. The two of your and your little ploy will be an excellent addition to our collection. Afterall, you have to know the mind of your enemy." Her lips curled up in a grin.
