The revelation that Dr. Elias Thorne, the lead scientist behind Project Chimera, might hold the key to my past hung heavy in the air. The name sparked a faint, unsettling familiarity, like a half-forgotten dream or a melody I couldn't quite place.
Following the coordinates Glitch had extracted, we found ourselves in a less-than-glamorous part of the city – a district of dilapidated warehouses and forgotten factories. The hidden archive was tucked away beneath a seemingly abandoned textile mill, accessible through a cleverly concealed freight elevator.
The descent was slow and creaky, the air growing colder and damper with each passing floor. The silence was punctuated only by the groaning of the ancient machinery and the nervous anticipation thrumming through our small group.
『Harem Streamer System: Archive infiltration imminent. Probability of encountering advanced security measures: 71%. Recommendation: Equip protective headgear. (Current headgear: Modified motorcycle helmet.)』
"Still rocking the latest in cranial protection," I muttered, adjusting my helmet.
The elevator shuddered to a halt, the doors groaning open to reveal a long, dimly lit corridor lined with heavy steel doors. The air here was thick with the smell of dust and old paper, a stark contrast to the chemical tang of the Shadow Syndicate's lab.
"This place feels… old," Maya whispered, her cosmic senses reaching out into the darkness.
"And quiet," Nova added, her ethereal glow illuminating the corridor ahead. "Almost… too quiet."
Nightshade and her team moved with their usual caution, checking for traps and surveillance systems. Glitch, their portable console whirring softly, was attempting to interface with any local network, hoping to gain access to the archive's internal schematics.
We proceeded slowly, the silence amplifying the sound of our footsteps. We passed several locked doors, each marked with faded labels indicating various research areas: "Neural Synchronization," "Energy Amplification," "Subject Integration." Each label sent a fresh wave of unease through me.
Finally, we reached a reinforced door at the end of the corridor, marked with a single word: "Archive." The lock was heavy-duty, but Glitch made short work of it, their fingers dancing across their console.
The door swung open with a groan, revealing a vast room filled with rows upon rows of towering shelves packed with dusty files, hard drives, and strange-looking devices. The air was thick with the scent of aged paper and forgotten knowledge.
"This is it," Nightshade murmured, her flashlight beam sweeping across the room. "Thorne's research."
The sheer volume of information was overwhelming. Where do we even begin?
『Harem Streamer System: Data analysis required. Recommendation: Utilize 'randomly select a file' protocol. (Probability of selecting relevant file: 0.001%.)』
"Thanks for the helpful odds, System," I muttered.
As we began to sift through the files, Glitch managed to bring a terminal in the corner of the room online. Its ancient monitor flickered to life, displaying a rudimentary operating system.
"Jackpot," Glitch whispered, their fingers already flying across the keyboard. "Let's see what secrets Dr. Thorne left behind."
The terminal was slow, the files loading at a snail's pace. But as Glitch navigated the archaic system, fragments of Thorne's research began to appear on the screen. Theories about harnessing latent human energy, experiments in neural interfacing, and… detailed logs on "Subject Omega."
My breath hitched as I read the entries. The descriptions… the energy fluctuations… the containment protocols… they matched the fragmented memories that had been plaguing me.
Then, a name appeared on the screen, associated with Subject Omega: "Scott McQueen."
My own name.
The realization hit me with the force of a physical blow. I was Subject Omega. I was the subject of Thorne's experiments.
A wave of dizziness washed over me, and the fragmented memories intensified, becoming clearer, more vivid. I saw myself as a child, lying on a cold metal table, strange devices attached to my head, Thorne's face looming over me, his eyes filled with a disturbing mix of scientific curiosity and something else… something darker.
"Scott, are you alright?" Maya's voice pulled me back to the present.
I could only nod, my throat tight with emotion. The pieces were starting to fall into place, forming a terrifying picture of my past.
Then, Glitch opened another file, a video log. The grainy footage showed Dr. Elias Thorne addressing the camera, his face older but still recognizable from the fleeting images in my mind.
"If anyone is viewing this recording," Thorne said, his voice echoing through the silent archive, "it means Project Chimera has been… compromised. And Subject Omega… has likely been recovered."
He paused, a strange mix of regret and defiance in his eyes. "Know this: Subject Omega's potential is far greater than you can imagine. The energy that flows through him… it is unique. Untapped. And in the wrong hands… it could be catastrophic."
He leaned closer to the camera, his gaze intense. "There is someone else who understands this. Someone who was… instrumental in Subject Omega's development. Someone who believed in his potential, even when I… had doubts."
The camera shifted, and my blood ran cold. Standing beside Dr. Thorne in the grainy video was a woman with familiar dark hair and piercing eyes.
Nightshade.
My mind reeled. Nightshade? Involved in Project Chimera? Instrumental in my… development?
I stared at the screen, my carefully constructed reality shattering into a million pieces. The stealth hero who had come to our aid… the cryptic operative known as Spectre… she was somehow connected to my forgotten past, to the very experiments that had made me… whatever I was.
The silence in the archive was deafening, broken only by the whirring of Glitch's console and the frantic beating of my own heart. The rabbit hole had just gotten a whole lot deeper, and the faces of my allies were suddenly shrouded in a terrifying new light.