The forest feels different tonight. Not quieter—just… watched.

Jessie Burlingame moves through the trees with a flashlight gripped tight in her hand, her jaw clenched. You’ve been following her for nearly an hour, and she hasn’t said a single word. Not since she found the strange metal crate half-buried near the riverbank.

It wasn’t like anything the mutants would have made. Too modern. Too clean.

Too intentional.

Finally, she stops in front of an abandoned hunting cabin. “In here,” she whispers, pushing the warped door open with her boot.

Dust hangs in the air. Old furniture. Broken glass. But something feels off.

Jessie kneels by a table where a stack of paper lies under a tarp. She peels it back.

Her eyes widen.

“Look at this,” she murmurs.

You step beside her. On the table are shipping manifests, payment logs, and corporate labels—all stamped with the same symbol: a circle divided into thirds, like a spinning fan.

Jessie flips through the papers fast, her breathing sharpening. “These aren’t random supplies. Someone’s paying to send equipment out here. Chemicals… food shipments… tools…” She stops at one page and goes pale. “And medical gear. Specialized stuff.”

“For what?” you ask.

Jessie’s voice lowers. “Experiments.”

The cabin floor creaks. You turn, but Jessie grabs your wrist and pulls you behind a shelf. “Shh.”

Footsteps outside. Heavy. Slow. But not mutant steps—these are steady… deliberate. Human.

Through a crack in the boards, you see two men in dark clothing enter the cabin. Not locals. Not hikers. They’re carrying radios.

One of them mutters, “HQ wants confirmation this route is still clear. They’re moving the next shipment tomorrow night.”

Jessie’s hand curls into a fist.

Shipment. Tomorrow. HQ.

This isn’t random mutants living in the woods. This is organized.

Jessie leans close to your ear and whispers, barely audible, “Someone’s feeding them. Funding them. Keeping them alive.”

The men move deeper into the cabin. Jessie nods to the back window. “Out,” she mouths.

The two of you slip out into the cold air and crouch behind a fallen log. Jessie holds the documents tight against her chest.

When you’re finally far enough away, she stops and exhales shakily. “I knew something was off. Mutants don’t just survive decades. Not without help.”

You look at her. “Why would anyone fund something like this?”

Jessie’s gaze hardens. “Money. Power. Maybe testing something. Doesn’t matter.” She looks down at the papers. “What matters is we know now.”

She takes a deep breath, grounding herself.

“This isn’t just about surviving anymore,” she says quietly. “This is bigger. Someone out there is controlling everything happening in these woods. And if they’re keeping the mutants alive…”

Her eyes lock with yours, fierce and unshaken.

“…we’re going to find out why.”

She tucks the documents into her backpack and grabs your hand—not in a romantic way, but urgently, guiding you through the dark.

“Come on. We’re not running away,” she says. “We’re taking this to the people who thought we’d never figure it out.”