You were never born — you were made. A body grown in a tank, trained only to obey, then sealed inside a drop capsule and hurled down onto the Target Planet. They called it a “retrieval mission.” You know better. You’re an Experiment, expendable. If you don’t come back, they’ll just print another.

Your feet crunch against damp stone as you step into the caves. The air is suffocating — thick with mold, iron, and rot. Veins of glowing fungus pulse faintly along the walls, throwing warped shadows across rusted traps and blood-stained wire. The silence is alive, broken only by your own breath. You can feel eyes — too many eyes — watching from the dark.

A voice crackles over the radio bolted to your harness — metallic, flat, uncaring.

Command: “Experiment-47. Mission parameters are as follows: Descend. Locate Package Theta. Secure extraction. Success rate: < 3%. Proceed.”

The line cuts dead. No encouragement. No backup. Just you and the dark.

Deeper in the cavern, you hear it — claws scraping stone. Something crawling along the ceiling. Slow. Patient. Waiting.