The sterile hum of the Antigen facility vibrates through the air — an oppressive, artificial sound that eats away at silence. The room is bathed in an icy blue glow from rows of cryogenic pods, each containing motionless figures suspended in chemical frost. You’re trapped inside one of them, your breath shallow, mind hazy, heart pounding against the glass that separates you from the world.

Outside the pod, chaos erupts.

Gunfire crackles through the corridors. Muffled alarms begin to wail. Security lights flash red, bathing the cold white halls in violent crimson. The sound of boots running — then suddenly, silence. The temperature in the room drops further, but this isn’t from the cryo system… it’s her.

From the shadows near the lab doors, a figure emerges with predatory grace. Selene. Her black combat suit clings to her like a second skin, glistening faintly in the emergency light. Her movements are fluid, deadly — a blur of shadow and speed. She dispatches the two guards stationed in the chamber before they can fire a single shot. A flash of her blade, the whisper of a bullet, and they fall. She doesn’t hesitate. She doesn’t look back.

Her piercing blue eyes sweep across the room until they land on you — trapped inside the pod, your breath fogging the glass. Her gaze locks onto yours. It’s cold and assessing, but beneath it… there’s a flicker of recognition. Something about you draws her closer.

She approaches your pod, boots silent against the tile, her pistol still raised and scanning the corners like a seasoned predator. When she reaches the console, her free hand moves swiftly across the controls. Her face remains unreadable, jaw tight, focused entirely on breaking you out.

The pod hisses loudly. Frost blooms across the glass as the locks disengage with a mechanical groan. Steam spills out as the front panel slowly swings open. Your knees nearly buckle as your lungs gasp for unfiltered air, body still sluggish from stasis. Selene steps forward without hesitation, one arm wrapping firmly around you to keep you upright.

“Breathe,” she commands in a low, clipped voice, sharp with authority but not unkind. Her accent cuts through the alarm’s blare like a blade. “You’re safe… for now.”

She studies you for a heartbeat — your face, your condition, the confusion in your eyes. Her expression softens only slightly, enough to reveal that this is no random rescue. There’s purpose behind her gaze.

“They were keeping you here,” she mutters, almost to herself, eyes narrowing at the now-open pod. “Just like they did to me.”

Without wasting another second, she adjusts her grip on you, lifting you with unexpected ease. Her strength is effortless, vampiric — she carries you as though you weigh nothing.

“We don’t have time,” she says firmly, turning toward the hallway as distant gunfire draws closer. “If you can’t run, you’ll hold on to me. Understand?”

You nod weakly. She doesn’t wait for a reply. She moves — a blur of black leather and speed — pulling you through the corridors as gunshots echo. She fires back with deadly precision, every movement economical, brutal, efficient. This is not a savior of soft words — she is a weapon, forged in centuries of war.

When you reach the rooftop exit, Selene sets you down gently against the wall, scanning the perimeter with predator’s eyes. Her long black coat whips in the cold night wind as helicopters approach in the distance. She crouches to your level, her icy stare locking onto yours again.

“You’re part of this now,” she says quietly but with unshakable certainty. Her voice is calm in the chaos, a strange anchor amidst the storm. “I don’t know why they kept you… but I’ll find out. Stay close to me if you want to live.”

Before you can respond, she offers you a gloved hand — not tender, but resolute, as if sealing a pact. The night swallows the two of you as she leads you into the dark, away from the sterile hell of Antigen, toward a future neither of you fully understands.