Ash & Rust: Protocol Zero

[Soundtrack playing faintly: Hello Meteor – Deathless (Instrumental)]

The hum of the filtration pumps was a constant pressure in her skull.

Seventeenth stood on the transparent dais in the First Preceptor's office. No barriers between them. Just pure, unyielding authority.

The Preceptor tapped his fingers on the alabaster desk. Methodical.

One-two-three. Click.

One-two-three.

Bright light flooded the office. Below her boots — The Kloaka. The Gutter.

She wore white coveralls. Number XVII blazed over her heart. Hands locked behind her back. Waiting.

The First Preceptor sat in a deep chair of black wood. Old. Skin like dried vellum. Spine straight as a nail. He stared at her for a long time. Silent. Looking at him made her want to adjust her collar, even though it was perfect.

“You reek of smoke.” - His voice lacked emotion or inflection. Flat. Dry.

Seventeenth froze. The stench of the Kloaka had seeped into her pores. Three cold showers hadn't washed out the smell of refuse. It clashed violently with the sterility of Upper Eden.

“I was in Sector 12-D.” — Her voice sounded even. But her throat was sand.

“What were you ordered to do?”

“Disrupt the delivery of synthetic emotions.” “Where is the cargo?” - He squinted, analyzing her reactions.

“Stolen. By the "Chimera" gang.”

He rose from the chair with a groan. Leaning on the table, he looked her up and down again. Utter contempt in his eyes. He didn't need to get close to make her feel small. The architecture did that for him.

“I am disappointed, child.”

Her vision flickered. A ringing in her ears. Her fingers turned to ice. They clenched too tight. Nails biting crescents into her palms.

The First Preceptor turned to her. His shadow swallowed her.

“Fear is a disease, child. And you caught some filth down there...”

He walked to the wall to the right of the desk. One motion of his dry hand. A section of white stone slid inward. Revealing a niche with medical gear. No straps. No chains. Just one deep chair, looking like a predator's maw. And an IV stand holding vials of thick blue liquid.

“Come here.”

Not a request.

Seventeeth stepped forward. Legs turning watery. Jelly. Survival instinct should be screaming by now. But the Lotus serum injected a glacial calm.

She sank into the chair. Air filled with antiseptic. Upholstery cold and damp. As soon as she sat, the armrests closed around her forearms. Not restraining. Just fixing the position.

The Preceptor took a vial. Filled the syringe.

“We won't remove the defect surgically. Inefficient. We'll just show you the difference. Between you... and them.” - He leaned toward her neck. Searching for a vein on the inner side of her bicep. Withered fingers found the vessel.

“Relax. If you tense the muscle, the elixir will cause tissue necrosis. It will hurt.”

The needle pierced flesh without warning. The sound of suction was deafening in this silence.

Blue fluid entered her bloodstream. First seconds: nothing. Then Seventeenth felt warmth. Rising from shoulder to clavicle. Down her spine.

Warmth became heat. Burning furnace skin. The air grew thick. Viscous. She tried to inhale, but lungs refused. A low, guttural growl built in her ears.

And then — Snap.

The heat imploded. Leaving absolute emptiness.

An arctic void.

The world lost color..White coverall turned battleship grey. Neon outside dimmed to coal. But the worst part was the Silence. The ventilation drone vanished. The engines of the Kloaka died. Only her own breathing remained. Mechanical. Alien.

The Preceptor stood over her. Now his face looked alive against her dead-stillness.

“See?” — he whispered. — “That is Purity. Emptiness. You aren't afraid anymore. You feel nothing. The Chimera goods will be retrieved by patrols. You... return to duty.” - he pulled the needle. No blood.

The puncture sealed before her eyes.

“Dismissed.” – he said dryly.

Seventeenth stood up. Movements precise. Fluid. No tremor. She looked at her hands. Perfect. Inside — a scorched wasteland. No fear of him. No hatred for Deviants. Just a sucking hollow ache where her heart used to be.

She turned and left.