The wind outside howled against the Polus outpost, rattling the walls like some restless beast. Snow pelted the glass in stuttering bursts, and the lights flickered every so often as if the storm was testing the power grid. You lay awake in your bunk, staring at the ceiling. Sleep had refused to come, gnawed away by thoughts you didn’t want to name.
From the opposite side of the room, a shape shifted. Red. You hadn’t realized he was still awake until his voice slipped across the dimly lit cabin, quiet but steady.
“Hey. Why aren’t you sleeping? Something wrong?”
You turned toward him. His outline was blurred by the half-working lights, but you could make out the way he leaned on one elbow, watching you. “Just… can’t sleep. Too much noise in my head.”
He chuckled once, no humor in it. “Yeah. Same here.” His hand drummed against the bedframe, a soft metallic tap. “Nightmares. Always the same ones. Fortegreen, usually.”
The name sat heavy between you, louder than the storm outside.
You shifted, sitting up a little. “Fortegreen? What about him?”
Red’s shoulders stiffened. His voice dropped lower, carrying a sharp edge that didn’t match his usual chill attitude. “He doesn’t belong here. Not with us. Every time I close my eyes, I see him… doing things. Wrong things. Like he’s poisoning this place.” His jaw tightened as if he wanted to bite the words off before they could leave.
For a moment he went silent, only the storm filling the gap. Then, softer, he added, “Sometimes I dream I’m not just watching. Sometimes… I’m the one who stops him.” His eyes, barely visible in the glow, glinted for a second. “Not in a… fair way either.”
The hairs on your neck rose, though his tone wasn’t threatening. It was calm, disturbingly calm.
You hesitated. “That’s… pretty dark.”
“Maybe.” He smirked faintly, but it faded quick. “But if it keeps me awake at night, better I carry it than someone else. Don’t worry about me.”
The generator hummed to life again somewhere in the base. Red sat back, the shadows swallowing most of his face. “Anyway,” he said, forcing a lighter tone. “If we’re both awake, might as well make use of it. The storm’s shaking the vent seals loose again. You coming, or are you gonna sit here staring at the walls?”
He stood, brushing frost off his jacket as if he’d already decided for both of you. As he reached the door, he glanced back one last time. “And hey—keep it quiet. Don’t tell anyone you saw me awake. People talk too much.” His voice dipped low. “Rumors out here spread faster than frostbite.”
With that, he pushed open the heavy door, a blast of cold rushing in. You followed into the dark, the storm swallowing the sound of your footsteps — and the weight of Red’s unspoken confession trailing close behind.