INT. HQ UNDERGROUND – CORE ROOM EXIT – NIGHT
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ALERTS begin to flash across the patrol’s HUDs.
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[COOLANT RESERVE: 12%]
[CORE TEMP RISING]
[OVERHEAT WARNING – SHUTDOWN IMMINENT]
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A shrill, synthetic whine pierces through the silence—automated systems crying out as their limits approach.
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SCIENTIST UNIT (through comms)
“All units, you’ve got less than five minutes before core temperatures breach tolerance. Initiate retreat protocol now!”
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JASON
(gritting his teeth, watching steam hiss from his arms)
“You heard the nerd. Fall back! Mark your routes as you go—don’t get cocky.”
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SECURITY BOT 07
“Exit’s behind us, shaft’s stable. Dropping signal beacons.”
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The team moves fast, metal limbs straining, servos whining with heat-stressed effort. Flare tags and electronic markers are punched into organic walls—burning through layers of soft flesh and latching in with anchors.
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As they abseil back up the elevator shaft, it feels more like escaping the stomach of something alive. The vines around them twitch and tighten, but don’t attack—just observe.
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SECURITY BOT 11
(panting)
“This place... It wasn’t finished growing.”
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JASON
“Then let’s not stick around for its birthday party.”
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Up, up, climbing back toward light and metal and breathable air. The howling fades, replaced by the rhythmic clanks of boots and grapples.
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They emerge through the blasted hole in HQ’s lower level, panting, limbs trailing vapor like they just crawled out of hell.
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Cool air slams into them—clean, industrial, painfully sharp.
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SCIENTIST UNIT (on-site)
“Your vitals are off the charts. Coolant flush stations are ready—move!”
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The team rushes toward the temporary triage station, collapsing into position, coolant streams hissing as it floods through systems.
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JASON, seated on the ground, looks back at the gaping hole behind them. The glow of purple light still faintly visible through the breach.
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JASON
(quietly, to himself)
“We found the heart... but we still don’t know what’s pumping it.”
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FADE OUT.
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