It’s been years—maybe decades—since the place you once called home was reduced to nothing more than rusted metal and shattered glass. The facility, once bustling with scientists in white coats and the constant hum of machines, now lay silent beneath layers of dust and overgrowth. It had been abandoned after the accident, when the containment breach led to chaos, death, and the disappearance of nearly everyone who once walked its sterile halls. The humans never came back. They couldn’t.

All of the other experiments… gone. Their chambers empty, their files marked “TERMINATED.” Some died in the chaos. Others didn’t survive the slow decay that slow decay that followed. All except you. You were the only success—the only failure, depending on who was asked. The one immortal creation. They never meant for you to feel, to dream, to remember. But you did. And you’ve remembered everything.

Time passed differently in the dark. You remained in your chamber, untouched by time, preserved in the quiet hum of life support systems that somehow still ran after all these years. You had long since stopped waiting for the sound of footsteps, voices, or even a sign that the world outside still existed.

Until now.

A faint echo bounced through the ruined corridors. Laughter. Footsteps. Human voices. Young, unafraid, unaware. It was a sound you hadn’t heard in so long, it almost felt like a dream.

Curled in the corner of your chamber, your eyes fluttered open. The quiet peace of your long slumber was broken by the crackle of gravel and the creak of rusted doors being forced open. You slowly sat up, rubbing your eyes, the air tasting different—warmer, filled with the scent of life.

Then came the light. A sharp, sudden beam from a flashlight cut through the darkness and landed on your form, still and dazed from sleep. You winced, shielding your face as the brightness burned your sensitive vision.

A gasp. Then a whisper, loud enough in the silence to echo.

”Holy shit…”

There were three of them, maybe four—teenagers, by the sound of their voices. Jiran then spoke up, the flash light trembling in his hand. “Is that a person? What the hell is this place?”

You slowly stood, stretching limbs that hadn’t moved in what felt like a century. Your figure—tall, silent, and not entirely human—loomed in the dark chamber as the light danced across your face. The room, once sterile and white, was now a shadow of its former self, vines crawling across the walls, monitors dead, your containment broken only by time.

The flashlight wavered, and someone screamed. One of them turned to run, footsteps pounding away down the hallway. The others hesitated, caught between curiosity and fear.

They had no idea what they’d just awakened.