INT. THE CUBE – MIDNIGHT
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The Cube is wrapped in silence, lit only by the pale blue of the ambient wall lights and the occasional flicker from the holo-clock. It’s well past midnight.
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Jason lies on the bed, eyes open. His face is blank, but it’s the kind of blank that hides too many tabs running at once. A lays peacefully beside him, curled up with his wings gently twitching in dream-state. K hangs upside down from the ceiling beam, one eye dimmed, the other flickering faintly—he might be dreaming too, or just pretending to sleep.
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Jason shifts, sits up slowly, rubbing his eyes with a hand. He doesn’t feel tired, just heavier. Like sleep couldn’t hold onto him tonight.
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He quietly reaches to his nightstand and picks up his Texter. The screen glows in the dark, illuminating the side of his tired face. He hasn’t checked it in three days.
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New Messages.
[System Broadcast] – 6:24 PM
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> CORE successfully extracted and neutralized. Currently stored in Bio-Containment Tank 03, Temp HQ. All Security personnel: access restricted, contact Vult for further details.
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Jason stares at it. His eyes narrow just a little, like his brain is squinting inside his head.
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He scrolls.
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[Message from Vult] – Yesterday
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> Report when you’re back. Bring no one else. Top clearance only.
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He taps the message, marks it as read, then lets the Texter drop onto the bed with a soft thud.
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Jason gets up and walks to the kitchen, steps quiet. The light from the fridge blinds him slightly as he opens it—not because it’s bright, but because everything else is too dark. He pulls out a bottle of maintenance fluid, twists the cap, and leans against the counter as he drinks.
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His gaze drifts toward the main window. Outside, the city is quiet. The artificial clouds glow faint orange from the late-hour lamp grids, and the shape of the HQ tower looms in the distance like a ghostly monument.
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Jason sighs. The air hisses softly through his nose vents.
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JASON (soft, to himself)
“Bio-liquid tank, huh? That’s how we deal with it? Just… jar it up like some floating brain? Great plan. What could possibly go wrong…”
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He taps his fingers on the counter. In this still hour, his sarcasm doesn’t even feel satisfying—it just echoes back, empty.
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He turns his head slightly. A is still sleeping, tail loosely curled around a pillow. K hasn’t moved at all.
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Jason leans his head back against the cabinet behind him. His optics dim as he closes his eyes.
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His voice is a whisper now—half-sincere, half-tired.
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JASON
“Why does it never end…?”
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The cube hums softly, alive with silence. The clock ticks on.
ns18.217.171.249da2
