The steel walls of Cell 7 closed in, the flickering bulb overhead casting jagged shadows across Aadi's bound wrists, the zip ties cutting deeper with every tug. His calf throbbed, the fresh scar a hot welt beneath blood-crusted bandages, the hum in his chest a restless pulse—fierce but fraying, caught between hope and dread. Alex's words—"You're not alone"—echoed in his skull, a lifeline tangled with doubt. The handsome anomaly, with his calm drawl and fractured mind, had slipped out minutes ago, leaving Aadi alone in the antiseptic chill. The speaker in the corner stayed silent, but its presence loomed, Axiom's cold eye watching.
The hum surged, scars flaring—Manisha, Neha, where are they? Alex had said Cell 4, two doors down—alive, patched, defiant. Ramesh's notebook, the frequency 142.7, the code 4-7-2-9, pointed to east ridge, to Cell 7's drop, but Axiom had snared them first. Alex's talk of Axiom's rot—cells turning on cells, But the zip ties, the locked door, his ruined leg—they were chains, and the hum's reset spark felt distant, dulled by the cell's weight.
In Cell 4, the steel door groaned open, and Alex stepped in, his blond hair damp with mist, blue eyes cold as frost despite his handsome features. The air was heavy, the cell's stark light glinting off his dark jacket as he faced Manisha, who stood defiant, her braid frayed, blood streaking her face from a fresh graze. Her hands were bound, the rusted pipe long gone, confiscated. Neha sat on the cot, glasses cracked, blood flaking from her nose, the notebook clutched tight, her eyes wary but unyielding. The hum's echo reached them faintly, a shared pulse of resistance, but Alex's presence was a wall—calm, calculated, hiding a darkness they couldn't see.
Alex's voice was a blade, cold and direct, slicing through the silence. "Are you an anomaly, girl? What can you do?"
Manisha's brow furrowed, her jaw tight. "What the hell does that mean?."
Alex's eyes narrowed, his calm icing over with impatience. "So both you girls just happen to be with Aadi? Do you know what he's capable of? Why are you helping him?"
Manisha's gaze held firm, her voice raw with truth. "Because I love him. I've always loved him, ever since we were kids."
Alex laughed, a sharp, hollow sound that chilled the cell, his blue eyes glinting with cruel amusement. "Love? You kids are too delusional. I've never been this entertained." He turned to Neha, curiosity sharpening his tone. "What about you, quiet one? Why are you here?"
Neha's fingers tightened on the notebook, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands.
"Because I want to. They're my only friends, and I fight for them. That's enough."
Alex tilted his head, his cold demeanor masking the predator within—a murderer whose fractured mind hid a heart of ice, every word a step toward his true intent: to break them for Axiom's gain. "Okay, last thing before I move on. Why spill all this? You were a rebel before, spitting at Axiom. What changed?"
Manisha's shoulders sagged, her voice low, heavy with grim certainty. "Because this is the end of the road for me. I know there's a limit to the human body and mind. After seeing what you did to those elite Axiom guards—ripped them apart like nothing—I know we can't win."
Alex's lips curled, a faint smirk betraying none of the bloodlust he concealed, his fractured gaze glinting with false respect. "Smart girl. Stay put—both of you. We're not done." He slipped out, the door locking with a clang, leaving Manisha and Neha in the cell, their defiance intact but their hope fraying under his cold shadow.
Aadi's breath hitched, the hum surging "Why me?" he muttered, voice low, raw, the hum pulsing in time with his racing heart. "I've done everything—fought, reset, bled. Every loop, every scar, for what? To end up here, caged?" He stared at the steel ceiling, the bulb's flicker mocking him.
"Alex… what does he want? Says he's an anomaly, like me—fractured mind, Axiom's mistake.
Is he real, or just another trick? Did I die again, and this is some… limbo?"
The hum flared, a sharp jolt, as if scolding his doubt. Aadi's thoughts churned, theories clawing to the surface.
First theory: Alex is Axiom's blade, playing good to break me. That Cold stare. He knows about the resets, Ramesh's files, 'temporal anomalies.' If he's Axiom's, he's after my trick, to weaponize it or destroy it. His jaw tightened, the hum buzzing—but why save me from Shade, why talk of Axiom's fractures?
"Second theory," he whispered, eyes narrowing, "he's a rogue, like he claims. His flaw—memories slipping, mind breaking—gives him freedom, maybe. He said Axiom's rotting, cells fighting cells, Could he want out, using me as a spark? But that laugh, that syringe gun… he's hiding something, something dark." The hum pulsed, wary—a murderer,
Aadi's fingers twitched, the zip ties biting deeper.
"Third theory: he's not real. A hallucination, my mind cracking from too many resets. Scars pile up, pain doesn't stop—maybe I'm trapped in a loop that's not mine. Did I die at the ridge, or the factory, and this is Axiom's game, testing me?" The hum roared, a defiant spark—no,
He shook his head, blood dripping from his wrists, the hum steadying his resolve. "Okay, focus. Alex knows too much—resets, Ramesh, me. If he's a friend, he's a dangerous one. If he's a killer, he's playing a long game. Either way, the east ridge is the key—Cell 7's drop, the laptop, Axiom's secrets. Manisha and Neha are in Cell 4, fighting, waiting. I get out, we hit the ridge, trap or not." His voice hardened, the hum a vow.
"I can still Reset, even if it's fading. I'll loop a thousand times to save them."
A theory flickered, sharp and cold—what if Alex is like me, but worse? An anomaly Axiom perfected, no flaw except his mind. What if he resets too, and he's looping against me? The hum spiked, scars burning—no, he'd have acted by now, ended me. Aadi pushed the thought down, his mind circling back to Ramesh's notebook. "Temporal anomalies," Alex said. Ramesh knew—about me, about Axiom's labs. Did he make me this way, or find me? Was I born or built?
The hum pulsed, a spark of defiance—doesn't matter, I'm here, I fight.
They're my anchor, not Axiom's. Alex can't take that." He tugged at the zip ties, the frayed plastic giving slightly, blood slicking his wrists. "I trust them, not him. East ridge, 3 a.m.—we hit Cell 7, get the laptop, break Axiom".
A clang echoed from the hall—metal on metal, distant, no shouts. Aadi's pulse surged, the hum flaring—Manisha? Neha? But the silence returned, heavy, no escape, only Axiom's grip tightening. The speaker crackled, the cold female voice slicing through—"Cell 7, status. Extract the anomaly's intel—now."
Aadi froze, the hum a war drum—they're watching. He slid off the cot, his calf screaming as he hit the floor, dragging himself to the table. A loose screw glinted—small, sharp. He rubbed the ties against it, plastic fraying faster now, each scrape a vow—get to Cell 4, free them, hit the ridge. The hum roared, scars pulsing—Manisha's love, Neha's fight, my resets. Alex was a shadow, friend or murderer, but Aadi's blade was sharper, forged in every loop, ready to carve Axiom's heart.