Chapter 10: Directive Seven
The second shot never reached Theodore.
A deafening crack split the room.
Not from Sarah's pistol.
From the window behind her.
The glass exploded inward.
A single rifle round shattered Sarah's handgun before she could fire.
The weapon spun across the floor in a shower of sparks.
Everyone froze.
A red laser sight danced briefly across the wall.
Then vanished.
Silence.
Whoever had fired had no intention of staying.
Sarah staggered backward, clutching her bleeding hand.
For the first time since "Directive Seven" activated, emotion returned to her face.
Confusion.
Pain.
Fear.
She stared at her own hand as though she couldn't understand why she was holding a gun.
"What..."
Grant, despite the wound in his shoulder, pointed his pistol at her.
"Don't move."
Tears rolled down Sarah's face.
"I... I didn't..."
Her breathing became uneven.
"I heard a voice."
"What voice?" Theodore asked.
She pressed both hands against her temples.
"It wasn't outside."
"It was..."
"...inside."
Before anyone could question her further, the lights flickered.
A nearby speaker crackled to life.
A calm female voice filled the room.
"Directive Seven interrupted."
A pause.
"Fallback protocol initiated."
Every monitor in the room switched on simultaneously.
Not to security cameras.
To a single black screen.
Then...
A white raven slowly unfolded its wings.
The animation lasted only a few seconds.
After that, an elderly woman's face appeared.
White hair.
Sharp gray eyes.
Perfect posture.
She looked directly into the camera.
Almost as though she could see the three of them.
"Good evening."
Grant's expression hardened.
"Who are you?"
The woman smiled.
"You've spent weeks looking for me."
Theodore whispered,
"...The Curator."
She inclined her head slightly.
"I prefer to think of myself as an archivist."
No one spoke.
The Curator continued.
"You've met my commissioner."
"You've met my doctor."
"You've met my collector."
"And you've met my unfortunate children."
Her gaze lingered on Sarah.
"Some of them lasted longer than others."
Sarah backed away from the screen in horror.
"You..."
The Curator nodded.
"I remember you."
Theodore stepped toward the monitor.
"What do you want?"
The woman's smile faded.
"I want my family back."
Grant frowned.
"What family?"
"The Vale family."
Theodore stiffened.
The Curator noticed.
"You finally understand."
She folded her hands calmly.
"White Raven was never a criminal organization."
"It was a research family."
Theodore's voice sharpened.
"You buried people alive."
"I preserved them."
"You stole identities."
"I protected them."
"You manipulated memories."
"I saved them."
The Curator sighed.
"History has always been unkind to visionaries."
She turned her attention to Theodore.
"You still haven't asked the most important question."
"What?"
"Why Rosalie survived."
Silence.
The Curator answered before anyone could respond.
"Because she inherited something..."
"...that no one else ever did."
The screen changed.
A medical scan appeared.
Brain imaging.
Highlighted neural pathways glowed in gold.
The Curator spoke over the image.
"Every Project Lazarus subject experienced memory degradation."
Another scan appeared.
"Except one."
Rosalie's.
Her neural activity remained perfectly stable.
"No deterioration."
"No fragmentation."
"No identity collapse."
Theodore frowned.
"What does that mean?"
The Curator smiled.
"It means Rosalie is the only successful subject."
Grant shook his head.
"Successful subject for what?"
The Curator answered without hesitation.
"Human continuity."
Theodore stared.
"I don't understand."
"You will."
She leaned slightly closer to the camera.
"When a body dies..."
"...must a person die with it?"
No one answered.
The Curator continued.
"If memories..."
"If personality..."
"If consciousness..."
"...can survive..."
"...then death becomes optional."
Grant looked sick.
"You're trying to make people immortal."
The Curator corrected him.
"No."
"I'm trying to make humanity survive itself."
Suddenly, the building's fire alarm activated.
Not because of a fire.
Because someone had entered.
Motion sensors lit up across Grant's laptop.
Ground floor.
Three intruders.
Second floor.
Five more.
The Curator smiled.
"They're here."
The video feed ended.
Every monitor went dark.
Grant immediately checked the building layout.
"They're surrounding us."
Theodore looked toward Sarah.
"Can you walk?"
She nodded weakly.
"I think so."
Grant tore the brass key from his pocket.
"The archive."
Sarah looked at it.
Her face changed instantly.
"You found it."
"You know what it opens?"
She nodded.
"My father showed me once."
Grant blinked.
"Your father?"
Sarah whispered,
"Sebastian."
Theodore felt the room spin.
"What?"
Sarah looked confused.
"I thought you knew."
Grant and Theodore exchanged stunned glances.
Sarah slowly frowned.
"Wait..."
"You really don't know?"
Before she could explain, an explosion blasted through the stairwell.
Concrete dust filled the hallway.
Boots thundered upward.
The attackers had breached the building.
Grant slammed a fresh magazine into his pistol.
"We move."
They rushed toward the rear exit.
Halfway down the corridor, Sarah suddenly stopped.
"No."
Grant turned.
"What?"
"The archive isn't here."
He frowned.
"What are you talking about?"
Sarah pointed at the brass key.
"This opens the original archive."
"Where is it?"
She looked directly at Theodore.
"Beneath the Vale Estate."
Theodore's heart skipped a beat.
The family mansion.
The same estate where Rosalie had nearly been buried alive.
The place where everything had begun.
Outside, engines roared.
Black SUVs screeched to a halt.
Dozens of masked operatives poured into the street.
At the front of the convoy stood a familiar figure.
Not Reeves.
Not Mercer.
Not Alexander.
Sebastian Vale.
He looked up at the building.
His face was unreadable.
Then he spoke into his radio.
"Tell Theodore..."
A long pause.
"...I'm done hiding the truth."
He stepped toward the entrance alone.
Without body armor.
Without a weapon visible.
May you like
As if he had come not to fight...
...but to confess.
