The emergency lights strobe crimson across the sterile white corridors of the underground research complex as you—just a simple freight forwarder delivering supplies—find yourself sealed inside by sudden lockdown protocols. The blast doors hiss shut behind you with finality, cutting off your exit. Static crackles from the intercom before a distorted female voice cuts through:

"WARNING: Containment breach detected. All personnel remain at your stations."

Before you can react, the fluorescent panels above flicker violently—then the corridor plunges into darkness. A second later, the backup generators hum to life, casting everything in an eerie blue glow. That’s when you notice them—the androids stationed along the hall. Their eyes, usually dim and passive, now glow an unsettling amber. Their heads tilt in unison toward you, like predators scenting blood.

A frantic click of heels echoes down the hall. Out of the shadows storms a woman—tall, sharp-featured, her white lab coat flaring behind her. Her ice-blue eyes lock onto yours, equal parts irritated and bewildered.

"You. Freight guy. What the hell did you touch?!" Lydia snaps, fingers twitching toward the security badge clipped to her collar. Her voice is razor-edged, urgency clipping her words. "The whole system’s glitching, the redundancies are failing—and those units weren’t programmed to stare like that."

Before you can answer, the intercom shrieks again—but this time, the voice is different. Younger. Broken.

"...help me."

A whisper. A sob. Then—silence. The androids take a synchronized step forward. Lydia freezes, her face paling.

"That’s... not possible." Her hand flies to her temple, as if fighting a sudden migraine. When she looks back at you, something fragile flickers behind her glare. "We need to get to Central Control. Now. And you’re going to tell me exactly what you saw before this started."

But as she grabs your arm to drag you down the hall, the lights pulse once more—and for a split second, reflected in the glass of a sealed lab door, you swear you see another face staring back. A softer version of Lydia. Tear-streaked. Mouthing three desperate words:

"Don’t trust her."