"Subject 217. Death confirmed. Termination system preparing"

  "Subject 217. Death confirmed. Termination system activated"

  I couldn't move. The void pressed me into itself, like I was stuck in a crack between worlds: not alive, but not dead either.

  From somewhere far away, through the beeping sensors, broke a lifeless mechanical voice, monotonously listing data about a body I no longer considered mine:

  "No pulse detected. Brain activity... unstable."

  Memory flashed with final frames, like a broken film reel: Sylvie, her eyes with spreading black veins, finger on the trigger, and that damned muffled shot that sent me here.

  "Sensor error. Rebooting"

  Something strange was happening inside—like a broken mechanism reassembling itself.

  "Brain activity... 30... 50... Error. Pulse detected"

  My fingers twitched, but my lungs refused to fill with air. The body had forgotten how to live. And then I heard a voice:

  — Get up, Luten.

  The sound surfaced in my consciousness from nowhere. Not female. Not male. Foreign and familiar at once.

  — This isn't the end yet.

  Voices. Of course, damn voices in my head.

  Great. Now I'm not just mortally wounded, but crazy too. Full package.

  The weight vanished. My body became light, as if someone lifted me. Eyelids fluttered. The world turned harsh white light. I opened my eyes.

  I was wrapped in some stiff fabric, like a cocoon. My hands tore it all off on their own, and my eyes met that same damn white ceiling again, still just as sterile and lifeless. Raising my head, I looked around.

  Large room. In the far corner stood an iron cabinet with drawers. Robots circled above me with exposed wires, their manipulator attachments replaced with saws and other instruments.

  Where the hell am I?

  It took my foggy brain a while to figure out why there wasn't a soul around, why I ended up covered in such a strange room and surrounded by clearly non-combat robots. Only after some time did I realize this was a morgue.

  While I was literally spacing out, one of the robots turned on its saw and started approaching me. I should've been scared. Should've screamed, jumped away, done something... But I just stared, like I was hypnotized.

  It didn't make it. My body worked faster than my mind. My arm jerked on its own. A short crackle, sparks lit the room, and the steel manipulator with the saw crashed onto the tiled floor, splashing oily liquid around.

  I blinked, trying to understand what happened. Damn it, when did I manage to do that? I didn't even realize I was moving.

  Coming to my senses, I got to my feet and grabbed the robot's torn-off arm. With quick movements I dealt with the remaining two and started looking around.

  Such a strong smell of chemicals mixed with machine oil hit my nose that nausea rose in my throat. I grimaced at the stench.

  And then it hit me: I'm completely naked, for fuck's sake. Oh, what shame! Strange: even in this death-resurrection situation, I'm still worried about such stupid things? I quickly checked the cabinets but saw nothing except bodies.

  Well, can't be helped. I didn't want to be Tarzan, so I threw the covering they'd wrapped me in over myself.

  At that very moment, voices struck my head again:

  — Save... Save her.

  Were they talking about Sylvie? What happened to her?

  — Something definitely happened to me.

  Sylvie appeared right in front of me. I got so scared I jumped, and the rag I hadn't managed to secure flew off me.

  — Oh my.

  She turned away with a theatrical gesture.

  — Maybe you should cover up? Not that I haven't seen you... anyway, you get it.

  — Sylvie?! What are you doing here?!

  — What makes you think I'm here?

  — But you're right... Ah, I get it.

  This is all just in my head.

  — Good job. Let's not dawdle and get out of here.

  — But what happened?

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  — Luten, we're leaving! Questions later!

  Empty corridors snaked in all directions—faceless, sterile, with cold artificial light that made my eyes sting. No signs, no landmarks. Perfect place to die if you make even one wrong step.

  — Luten, faster, we can't waste time.

  Sylvie stepped forward, her silhouette seemed too clear, too real. I gritted my teeth.

  — You don't even exist. Just a glitch of my overheated brain.

  She tilted her head and smiled lazily.

  — And?

  Damn. Hit rock bottom—arguing with a figment of my imagination and losing.

  I wasn't an idiot. There could be plenty of cameras here. This laboratory—otherworlder base, surveillance systems should be everywhere. Then why hadn't they detected me?

  I leaned against the wall, looked around. Lines on the ceiling—hidden motion sensors. Cameras built into the surface, but inactive.

  — They're on power-saving mode.

  Systems had switched to reduced activity mode. Maybe they considered me dead, and the morgue was temporarily disconnected from active monitoring.

  — Well, you're lucky.

  I snorted. Now my own hallucinations are mocking me. Became a punching bag in my own head.

  — Luck would be if I wasn't naked.

  — Technically, you're not naked anymore.

  I moved along the walls, tracking hidden sensors. They were inactive, but any moment all this dormant electronics could wake up and raise an alarm. And running naked from robots with machine guns wasn't in my plans.

  — Camera on the left.

  Sylvie leaned against the wall, as if just resting.

  I froze. The red indicator wasn't lit, but its shape revealed a hidden scanner. If I entered its zone, the alarm would trigger. I squinted.

  — Can you break it?

  Sylvie smirked.

  — Of course.

  She nodded, approaching closer...

  But, naturally, did nothing. I exhaled. Of course. Myself.

  I slid my gaze over the table with laid-out instruments. Cold metal gleamed in the dim light—scalpels, clamps, and... there it was. A tray, bent at the right angle, could create a reflective effect.

  I carefully positioned it under the lens to redirect the camera's signal to an empty section of wall.

  The scanner blinked and then froze.

  Pause.

  ...No alarm. The camera changed mode.

  — Genius.

  Sylvie started clapping. I muttered something obscene and moved on.

  A long, clean corridor opened before me. No cover. And at the end—two figures. Guard bots.

  They still considered me dead. They didn't register me as a target since I was listed as "terminated." But if they detected sudden movement, sound, or interaction with objects—they'd instantly activate capture protocol.

  I quietly retreated.

  — How do I get through?

  Sylvie shook her head.

  — You don't. Straight through or not at all.

  — That's not an option.

  She smirked.

  — Well, you can stay and watch them recycle you.

  I sighed. Door nearby slightly ajar. I slipped inside, closing it behind me. And found myself not just in storage, but in a maintenance room. Stands with parts, tools, control panel for service drones. A laboratory map blinked on the screen.

  — Oh, you're a hacker.

  I ignored her.

  The map showed active bot routes and camera zones. And now I saw an exit to service tunnels. The maintenance system wasn't controlled by combat bots—it operated separately from the military network.

  Exit in two minutes. The grate was held by thin screws.

  I jumped on boxes, grabbed the metal and pulled. The plate tore off with a crack, slamming into the floor. I froze... Silence.

  They didn't hear.

  I quickly climbed inside, pulled in my legs. The ventilation was narrow, cold. Metal cut my palms. I crawled, and every breath seemed loud as a siren.

  — Exit in five meters.

  — How do you know that?

  She smirked.

  — I memorized the plan while you were standing there.

  I didn't argue. Light ahead. I kicked out the grate, jumped down. Finding myself in a dark room, I approached a terminal on the wall.

  "Isolation Chamber 06 — Active"

  I frowned.

  — Where are we?

  Sylvie slowly turned to me.

  — We're almost at the exit.

  — You're lying.

  She smirked.

  — Well, almost...

  I slowly turned to the terminal. They were holding her here. And I needed to save her.

  — So how do I open it?

  The solution came to me on its own. Since this was already a prisoner cell block, there were cameras here, which meant a guard was sitting at a post somewhere.

  — Of course, nothing's ever that simple.

  — Well, you could knock.

  I turned my head. Through a small window at the guard post, a silhouette was visible. A person sat half-turned, staring at a monitor.

  I tensed. Light sliding along the walls revealed a surveillance camera, turning every couple seconds.

  — So, got a plan?

  I looked around. Open tool cabinet. There I found a metal crowbar. Shelves to hide behind.

  — Of course.

  I grabbed the crowbar and hid behind the cabinet. Wait.

  The camera moved in a cycle. When its lens looked away again, I slipped to the guard post door. Pressure built in my ears.

  I didn't hear my steps, didn't hear breathing. Only heartbeat.

  Inside, the guard turned in his chair, straightening up.

  I froze at the door, watching.

  Hand reached for a cup, fingers trembling slightly. The guard was tired, relaxed.

  I moved. Lunge—door open. He didn't even manage to raise his head.

  The crowbar metal hit the back of his head with a dull thud. I calculated the force to not kill him. Hope they don't pin a murder on me. I waited.

  One second. Two. Three. No alarm signal.

  I slowly exhaled. One mistake, and everything could've gone to hell right now.

  Sylvie leaned over me, examining the body.

  — Scary moment, huh?

  I looked at her.

  — Not really.

  I bent down and pulled the key card from the knocked-out guard's belt. Laboratory cameras blinked on the monitor screen.

  — Oh, look at that, they don't even know you're here.

  — Not yet.

  I inserted the card into the panel slot. Access approved.

  The red indicator on Chamber 06's door blinked, turning green. I pushed the door, stepped inside.

  The smell of iron hit my nose. Sylvie hung in the center of the chamber, suspended by her wrists. Torn robe, dark blood stains on the fabric.

  I took a step forward. Her head jerked up. Lips trembled, but I heard no sound.

  She tried to say something. But only a muffled exhale escaped her lips. I came closer.

  — Sylvie...