Barnaby sold Youri to the Altex Institute. He had promised him hell, and he lived up to every word of it.
By the time it was done, Youri had turned thirteen. He was handed over to the space institute of Altex like cargo, shipped there aboard one of Barnaby's own vessels with the same cold efficiency that moved his contraband and his weapons. When the ship finally docked, the great structure of Altex loomed up ahead of it — sterile, white, impossibly tall, rising like a monument to suffering dressed up as science.
Waiting at the entrance stood Malden, the head of the institute. He wore a long white doctor's coat that fell neatly over bright brown trousers and a light pink shirt. Everything about him had been carefully arranged to look clean and professional, which only made him more unsettling. He looked to be in his late fifties, with dark hair thinning at the crown and deep brown eyes behind wide round glasses, sharp and observant. His lips were stretched into what seemed to be a permanent, satisfied smirk.
As Youri stepped off the ship, Malden looked him over from head to toe with open curiosity, the way one might inspect a specimen rather than a child. Then he came closer and crouched down to meet him at eye level.
"Welcome to Altex," he said, gazing deep into Youri's eyes.
Youri's expression did not change. He said nothing at all. Without so much as acknowledging the man, he simply walked on.
Malden rose slowly and followed him, unbothered. As they went deeper into the facility, Youri noticed that he was not the only one: three other subjects walked nearby, silent and distant, heavy with resignation. The corridors were spotless and white. The air hummed faintly with unseen machinery.
At last Malden led them into what he called the chamber rooms — a vast white hall stretching far into the distance, lined on both sides with ten glass rooms. Each one had been designed to look calm, almost comforting: three solid walls of pristine white without a single decoration, a front of thick reinforced glass, and inside, only the bare necessities — a single bed, and a small sink and toilet in the far left corner.
Several of them were already occupied. To the left of the room meant for Youri sat an old man who looked as if he had lost himself a long time ago. His eyes were dull, lifeless, fixed on the floor. He sat on his bed without moving or speaking, in a light blue uniform that covered him from chest to knee, his head completely bald and his posture hollow. Across the hall was a younger man, perhaps in his mid-forties, lying flat on the floor of his room with his arms and legs spread wide, staring unblinking at the ceiling, with long black hair spilling out around his head and a thick, unkempt beard that gave him a wild, abandoned look. And in the room beside him was the last of them, much younger again, perhaps in his mid-twenties, crouched tight in a corner with his knees pulled up to his chest. As Youri passed, he lifted his head just long enough to glance at him, then looked quickly away. Like the old man, he was entirely bald, his skin pale and without a single hair.
Malden guided Youri to the last empty room and tapped twice on the glass. With a soft mechanical hum, the door slid open, and he gestured inside with a calm, inviting hand. Youri stepped in. The door closed slowly behind him, sealing him in, and when he turned around, Malden was standing on the other side of the glass, watching him closely.
"Make yourself at home," Malden said.
Then he turned and walked away. One by one, the lights along the hall dimmed into a muted glow, and the sound of his footsteps faded into silence, leaving Youri alone — trapped behind glass, surrounded by strangers, swallowed by the quiet cruelty of Altex.
The hum of the facility settled around him, low, constant, inescapable. He stood in the middle of the room staring at his reflection in the thick glass. For a moment he barely recognized the boy looking back at him: thinner, with dirt still under his nails, and eyes far too old for thirteen. He sat down on the edge of the bed. The room smelled faintly of antiseptic and recycled air. There were no windows and no sounds from anywhere outside, only the faint outlines of the other rooms reflected in the glass like ghosts trapped in parallel worlds. Minutes passed, or hours. Time lost its meaning quickly in Altex.
Then a sharp hiss cut through the silence. A thin line of light opened in the ceiling, and a mechanical arm slid out, precise and insect-like, carrying a small metal tray. It lowered itself through a narrow slot in the wall and stopped beside the bed. On the tray lay a clear injector and a small tablet marked with Terrian script.
Youri didn't move.
Malden's voice came from hidden speakers, calm and almost kind. "Routine stabilizer. Resistance will only prolong the adjustment phase."
Youri clenched his fists. Then, slowly, he picked up the injector. His hands were trembling, but his face showed nothing as he pressed it against his arm. There was a sharp sting, then a warmth spreading through his veins like liquid fire. His breath caught, and the injector fell from his fingers as his vision blurred and the colors smeared into each other. In the room beside his, the old man twitched for the first time, his fingers curling and his nails scraping weakly at the floor. Somewhere further down the hall someone screamed — a short, raw scream that cut off abruptly.
Youri fell back onto the bed with his chest heaving, and images flooded his mind: the skyline of Talion at night, the bench, the alley, Six's smile as he ran, the snow falling silently around him. His lips parted, but no sound came out.
When he woke again, the room was brighter. He sat up slowly with his head pounding, and something felt wrong — not pain, but an absence, a dull emptiness where his fear should have been. He swung his legs off the bed and stood, testing himself. His balance was perfect. Too perfect.
Malden had appeared beyond the glass with his hands clasped behind his back. "Remarkable," he said softly. "Subject resilience exceeds projections."
Youri walked up to the glass, and their eyes met. "What did you do to me?" he asked, his voice steady and flat.
Malden's smile widened. "We've begun correcting inefficiencies." He tapped a panel, and the glass flickered with streams of data — heart rate, neural activity, Terrian symbols scrolling too fast to read. "You survived the streets. You survived betrayal, loss and fear. Most children break long before that. You, however, adapted. Altex exists to refine exactly that kind of potential."
Youri's jaw tightened. "What is this?"
Malden laughed quietly and shook his head. "You want meaning. And here—" he gestured at the room, at the hall beyond it, at the unseen depths of the institute "—you will be given one."
He turned and walked away, his coat trailing behind him like a shadow. The lights dimmed once more. Youri pressed his palm against the glass. Across the hall, the young bald man slowly raised his own hand and mirrored him, his eyes wide with silent terror. Youri didn't pull his hand away.
Somewhere deep inside him, beneath the numbness and the silence the drugs were trying to carve into his mind, a single thought still burned, small but unbroken — an old man's voice from a cell long since buried in fire.
Hold on, kid. Don't let this place take you.