Blare!
An alarm flared to life, washing the lab in blood red light.
Axel rushed to the console, brows pulled together.
This… just what is this?
His fingers danced across the keyboard, the sound of clacking overwhelmed by the hum of machines in the environment.
"What's wrong?" a panicked voice boomed behind him.
"I… I don't know!" he yelled back, his voice cracking with frustration.
He stopped typing, his trembling hands hovered aimlessly over the keyboard.
I can't fix it if I don't even know what's wrong.
"What do you mean you don't know?" the voice snapped, the owner—Ophelia,
pushed him aside, her small frame somehow shifting his much larger body.
"Something has to be wrong!" she said, fingers clattering against the keys, hands a blur as she cycled through programs.
Axel turned away, hands locked behind his head. His gaze swept the lab, polished steel surfaces, cold glass panels, and cables like veins strewn on the floor, cut off unevenly.
The smell of smoke and burning plastic wafted into his nose, forcing a harsh cough out of him.
His gaze stopped on it.
At the center of the lab, circular, a metallic ring suspended by pillars of metallic frames.
Its core pulsed with spiraling colors, a mixture of violet, blue, crimson, twisting together in a mesmerizing pattern.
It should've been beautiful, a fun project, a teleporter, but now it felt eerie and wrong.
It was working, but something wrong was behind that cacophony of colors, something sinister.
We cut the power. We severed every cable… So why is it still running? Axel wondered, his eyes flickering to the disconnected cords that trailed uselessly from the machine's base.
And the adults are nowhere to be found… He scratched his head, yanking at his hair. No, they're gone. Dead…or worse, no matter how hard I try to deny it.
He swallowed hard as he remembered the screams—still vivid in his head, the haunting echoes as they all walked willingly into the machine, blank-eyed, mechanical, like puppets.
They didn't budge when he shook them, trying to break them out of their trance-like state.
Heck, they didn't even spare him a glance.
He turned to Ophelia again, her face pale but focused.
Hands trembling yet relentlessly typing. Even after everything, she still held on.
Then a glint caught his eye, a crimson flash from the machine. Not the emergency lights or the portal, something beyond it, something deeper.
Axel's throat tightened. He turned slowly, scanning the chamber.
Nothing, no movement, no sound.
His gaze finally stopped at the portal, still a cacophony of colors, nothing unusual, he exhaled shakily.
The next second his breath hitched as two red orbs opened.
Glowing, bloodshot, alive—stared back at him from within the swirling lights.
Then the world fell away, everything ceased to exist, at least for him.
The siren sound dimmed to silence, the clacking of keys faded.
It was just him…and those eyes.
Breath!
breath!!
breath!!!
He kept repeating in his head, yet
his lungs refused to obey. His entire body wasn't listening to him.
He felt the slow, suffocating pull of drowning. Cold sweat rolled down his temple, a chill travelled up his spine.
The ground started shaking, the world around him tilting. Yet he stood still, unshakable, like some force held him in place.
His gaze stayed locked to those red eyes, he wanted to look away, but couldn't.
He tried to scream, but no sound left his lips, it was like glue had sealed them shut. His throat burned, dry and locked.
A distorted voice cracked through the chaos, jagged and glass-like,
"You summoned me."
"Axel!"
A shout right beside his ear snapped him free.
He dropped to his knees, gasping for air, his shirt clinging cold and wet against his skin.
"Are you okay?" Ophelia's trembling voice reached him through the haze.
What was that? What am I doing? He shook his head and looked up, forcing a shaky smile and nodded.
He clenched his trembling fist.
Took a deep, shaky breath.
Then forced his shoulder straight, he couldn't break, not yet.
"We have to go!" she said, tugging his hand.
Axel steadied himself and rose.
Scanning the room, flames now burning across panels, smoke curling into the air.
A machine sparked beside him, throwing golden embers across the floor. He flinched and instinctively stepped back.
He threw a glance at the portal.
The eyes were gone, the colors gone, the portal seemed to be off.
...Did I imagine it?
"Let's go!" Ophelia's voice cracked, her eyes glistening with tears threatening to spill.
Axel managed a soft smile, patting her head.
"Alright." He took her hand and moved toward the exit, only to stop.
The door was sealed.
Ophelia coughed violently, the air thick with smoke. Axel's eyes darted, searching for another way out. I need t…
BOOM!
An explosion swallowed the rest. Heat tore through him, smoke clawing into his lungs—then silence.
"Mr. Steele… Mr. Steele…" a faint voice echoed through the void.
Ophelia?
The tone was soft at first, then it got sharper, more urgent.
"Mr. Steele!"
Axel's eyes snapped open as he jolted awake. The nightmare shattering.
His chest rapidly rising and falling.
He breathed a sigh of relief.
Third time this week. They're getting more frequent, he rubbed his face.
"Mr. Steele." The voice came again, tone low, with barely restrained irritation.
Looking up, he found himself staring at a scrunched up face. Right. The professor.
He chuckled weakly.
"Is my question that funny, Mr. Steele?" the man asked, tilting his head.
"No…sorry, I didn't catch the question," Axel said, rubbing his neck with an awkward grin.
"It's just your glasses make you look more like a circus clow…"
Axel froze...
crap. Did I say that out loud?
A single cough broke the silence, sounding far too loud in the tension-filled air.
Axel cleared his throat, might as well go all the way.
"I guess I'm the only one bold enough to say it, but it'll do you a world of good to rid yourself of those glasses, you look plenty scary already…unless it's prescribed of course," he finished with a smile.
"What was the question again?"
The professor's fists tightened. Silence stretched. A chair scraped somewhere in the room, sharp and shrill.
"Get out," the professor said, voice low and guttural.
"I didn't quite get that."
And that was the final straw.
***
"So, you're telling me," a woman's voice said, smooth but edged with disbelief, "that the professor punched the table himself, Mr. Steele?"
Axel nodded. "That's exactly what happened."
"And broke his wrist doing it?"
"Yes."
The president, Miss Vesna Harris, studied him from across her sleek glass desk. Her sharp green eyes glinted behind thin lenses.
She leaned back on her chair, "that's an experienced professional, does your story sound plausible for a man his age?"
Axel smirked. "Who knows? Maybe he's got family issues. I'm not a psychologist." He reached for a candy bowl, but her gaze stopped him cold.
He raised his hands in surrender and looked away. Worth a shot.
"Since you arrived," Vesna began, looking down at a file, "there's been an increase in violent and erratic behavior from staff."
She paused and looked up. "Why do you think that is?"
Axel met her gaze with practiced nonchalance. "I don't know."
She shook her head and continued, "your record lists arrogance, laziness, and chronic tardiness."
Axel shrugged. "Well, if my brilliance gets mistaken for arrogance, that's not really on me. And honestly, there's not much left here for me to learn…It's boring."
Her lips curved, amused, "so, you feel trapped?"
Silence.
"Alright then." She leaned over the desk, Axel gulped as she leaned in, yet he refused to look away.
"For three months," she said softly, "you're suspended."
Axel exhaled, disappointed. "Only three? I was expecting worse."
"Oh, there's more." She turned toward the window, opening the blinds.
Sunlight cut across her figure like a blade.
"First, you'll submit a written report on how you spent your suspension," She paused, a faint smirk on her lips.
"It must be something interesting, not 'boring'."
"And second…" She smiled faintly, watching a bird fly past.
"Survive it." She muttered inaudibly, almost to herself.