PROJECT GENESIS ENTRY #0522

Subject 32 has developed Acute and Cutaneous Porphyrias. Symptoms include severe abdominal pain, vomiting, confusion, seizures, and heightened sensitivity to sunlight. Physical deterioration is evident, with signs of malnutrition despite controlled dietary intake. MRI scans reveal abnormalities in the ventromedial prefrontal cortex, with no prior documentation of such anomalies.

Monitoring of Subject 32 will continue.

Subject 37 has exhibited similar physiological changes to those initially observed in Subject 32 following administration of Compound Genesis. Monitoring will continue for potential decline.

Erebus fired the stake round into the mouth of the abandoned subway. The bullet fractured mid-air, its unstable charge collapsing under the strain of distance. A brief flash of ultraviolet light flared against the crumbling stairwell before vanishing, swallowing the tunnel in darkness once more.

“Didn’t hear hissing or screaming, so we might be clear,” Atash muttered.

“Stay on guard,” Erebus warned. “These tunnels aren’t regulated. IDUN sends a clean team once a week to clear out Ferals, but anything could be lurking in between.” They pressed a hand to their radio. “Squad 95 descending U13. Taking C Line to Entrance E7.”

“Copy,” came the response.

I fumbled with the night vision glasses, my fingers searching for the power switch. Atash stepped closer, his tone laced with amusement. “Need help?”

“I can figure it out myself,” I muttered.

“You have to press the top and bottom buttons on the left lens at the same time. Hold for a second.”

I did as he said, and, regrettably, it worked. The world flickered into sharp relief, washed in a green glow. The tunnel stretched ahead, empty but for the decay of time.

“Thanks,” I mumbled.

The station was a graveyard of the past. Cracked tiles lined the walls, streaked with grime and moss where water had seeped through from above. Rusted beams groaned under their own weight, and old advertisements clung to the walls in peeling layers—ghosts of a world long gone. A faded IDUN poster promised “A Better Tomorrow”, its edges curling inward as if the lie had finally caught up to it.

We moved forward, stepping onto what remained of the platform. Roots had forced their way through the concrete, nature reclaiming what humanity had abandoned. The air smelled of mildew and rust, the faint drip of water echoing through the vast emptiness.

Beyond the edge of the platform, the tunnel yawned before us, swallowing all traces of light. With only the glow of our night vision, we descended onto the tracks, silence stretching thick and oppressive.

No one spoke as we pressed forward.

The skeletal remains of a train loomed in the darkness, its metal frame corroded with time, windows shattered into jagged teeth. Our night vision cast everything in an eerie green hue, distorting reality, making the shadows seem deeper, alive.

A rustling sound. Faint, but distinct.

My fingers found the grip of my handgun, steady, instinctive. I wasn’t the only one—Atash shifted, weight balanced, ready. The silence stretched, thick and waiting.

Then, a blur of movement. A rat darted from the gaping maw of an open train door, claws skittering over rusted metal before disappearing into the tracks.

I exhaled, tension easing—just slightly. But my grip on the gun remained firm.

“You feel it too?” Erebus murmured, unsheathing the weapon from their back. The blade was sleek, interrupted by slivers of borosilicate glass pulsing with UV light.

“Where the hell did you get that?” I whispered harshly, awe slipping through my voice. It was a fucken lightsaber. Kind of.

“S-ranks get first access to prototypes,” Atash muttered, his exhale laced with quiet jealousy.

“But it’s too quiet, isn’t it?”

“And it’s not supposed to be,” Erebus confirmed, their tone clipped as we moved past the derelict train.

This was textbook horror movie territory—an abandoned vehicle, an idiot wandering too close, something lurking inside. The static hum of my night vision glasses played tricks on my mind, but the movement I caught wasn’t imaginary. A sliver of silver shifting in the dark.

Instinct took over. My stake was up, UV rounds loaded. The shot rang out, bursting in a violent flash. A hiss followed.

Laughter. Slow. Drawn out.

“We were wondering when one of you would actually do something,” a voice mused.

A vampire stepped into view, one hand braced against the rusted train door. Another vamp emerged from the opposite end, casually blocking our path.

“Well, well. A couple of lost Bulwark Hunters.”

My fingers tightened around my second stake—Scarlet Wood, locked and ready.

“Uh-uh.” A third voice drawled behind me.

Tall. Lanky. Hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket, posture loose with arrogance. “You can’t strike first, right? Accord rules and all that.” His voice dripped condescension.

“Squad 95,” Erebus stated, tone sharp. “We have clearance for E7.”

“And you?” Atash added. “You have permission to be down here? Act 12 of the VH Accord dictates these tunnels remain vacant unless passage is granted.”

The female vamp toyed with a strand of her pale hair, tilting her head. “I had a sister who traveled topside a few days ago. She never came back. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

The lanky one clicked his tongue. “Now that I think about it… You two look familiar. There was a mess near one of the entrances. A swarm of Ferals. I heard someone screaming. Thought it was your sister.” He grinned, sharp and lazy. “All I found was a pile of ash.”

A blur of movement.

She was suddenly in front of Atash, inhaling deeply, fingers ghosting toward the spot where he’d been wounded days ago.

“You smell like her.”

I moved on instinct. Stake pressed against her side, poised to drive it in and shoot. The other two flanked us in an instant.

“That’s funny,” I said, my grip firm, my voice sharper. “Because I’m the one her guts exploded all over.”

Her silvery eyes locked onto mine, and she hissed—low, guttural. Her hand shot for my throat, fast as a whip.

Atash was faster. His pistol pressed under her chin, tilting her gaze upward. The corners of her lips curled, fangs bared in amusement.

“Looks like a stalemate,” she mused.

“Not really,” I said coolly, thumb flicking the mechanism on my stake.

The UV bullet buried into her side, igniting in a burst of searing light. Her scream barely left her throat before Atash fired a Scarlet round straight through her chin. She froze, convulsing, and I drove my stake into her body four more times, each strike precise, final.

Hot blood splattered, turning to ash. Atash shifted his aim, his arm brushing close over my shoulder as he unloaded rounds into the lanky one. We moved in sync, no need for words—he kept the bastard staggering while I found openings for my shots, UV bullets burning through flesh. Efficient. Precise. Surprisingly, we were a good team. 

A flicker of movement caught my eye—Erebus. They moved like a shadow, their blade slicing through the burly vamp with ruthless efficiency. Strikes calculated, every movement honed to perfection. S-rank finesse. Each cut burned, sizzling against flesh, the UV windows in the steel glowing with every strike. Blackened blood sprayed as his attacks became more ruthless, but Erebus didn’t falter—one clean motion, a decapitation. Then a twist of their wrist, and I heard it—the charge.

A pulse of energy surged through the blade as they pierced through his torso. The UV core flickered once, then discharged. Light detonated inside the vampire, his body bursting apart before Erebus smoothly pulled the sword free, its glow fading into darkened glass.

They exhaled, sliding the weapon back into its sheath. Their gaze flicked between us, steady, unreadable. “Any injuries?” Their voice calm and controlled.

Atash and I exchanged a glance, brushing dust and ash from our gear.

“Nothing worth mentioning,” I muttered.

Erebus nodded once. “Then let’s keep moving.”

“You didn’t follow protocol for once,” Atash said, his tone flat as he shot me a glance, one hand hooked over the front of his vest.

I slid my stakes back into my belt. “We don’t have to follow every rule in the book.”

A beat of silence. Then, the corner of his lips twitched—just barely. “Ha.” A smirk, subtle but there.

We reached Entrance E7, the tag spray-painted just above the half-open gate.

Stepping through was like crossing into another world. A massive billboard greeted us: “Welcome to Eden #7.” IDUN Corp had never been subtle with their branding.

The tunnels and stations had been hollowed out into a vast underground city, stretching beyond my line of sight. Artificial lights mimicked streetlamps, casting a dim glow over concrete paths. No cars, no traffic—just the occasional neon sign illuminating above businesses and recreation centers.

Patches of greenery broke through the gray—Zamioculcas zamiifolia, Epipremnum aureum, and the like—plants engineered to survive under the weak, artificial glow. The ceiling loomed high, painted to resemble a permanent night sky, stars frozen in time.

No birds. No insects. No rustling of unseen creatures or the wind. Just the low murmur of Bloodfed vampires going about their routines. It looked almost like the world before its destruction. The vamps were dressed in the refined elegance of high society, their presence curated to feel familiar. But it wasn’t.

This wasn’t a city. It was a stage. A carefully constructed illusion of a suburban life of the last.

“Squad 95 entering E7,” Erebus said into their radio.

“Copy.” The reply crackled back.

A group of guards moved past us, their eyes flicking over our badges before moving on. They weren’t just here to keep order. They were IDUN’s gatekeepers, making sure only the right kind of people got in—or out.

The first major structure we passed was IDUN’s blood bank, strategically placed near every Under City’s entrance for Upper City visitors looking to make a quick exchange—or at least try.

The Under City’s officials believed we were here for routine inspections—blood banks, Life Donor records, the usual oversight. Technically, we would be. But that was just the excuse, the surface-level protocol. The Life Donors were our way into the lab.

The blood bank was cold, the scent of disinfectant sharp in the air. White walls, sterile floors, and dim lighting—the bare minimum for the humans who came here, willing to trade years of their lives for doses of Compound Genesis to see without fumbling. 

“Squad 95, on behalf of Bulwark Inc.,” Erebus said, flashing their badge at the receptionist. “We request access to your refrigerator units and a list of current Life Donors in E7.”

Minutes later, we had our clearance. Two IDUN guards stood at the entrance to the storage facility, watching as we were led inside.

The refrigeration units were pristine—rows of metal shelves stacked with labeled blood bags, each one tagged with a donor’s ID. The temperature bit at my skin as I flipped through the paperwork. “They have forty-eight donors just in E7,” I muttered. “Most of them either have a chronic illness or a sick family member.”

“People will do anything for a cure,” Atash said, scanning the reserves alongside Erebus. “Even if it means spending two to three years in a container while their blood is drained drop by drop.”

I never understood it. Trading your body, your time, for something that was never meant to exist. IDUN called it salvation. A miracle. But it was nothing more than a blood-for-blood scam—a system built on desperation.

The “cure” left them shackled to suppressants, drugs that were nothing more than lyophilized red blood cells mixed with mood stabilizers. IDUN packaged it in pill form, dressed it up as something clean, something palatable. But it was still blood—watered down, overpriced, and never enough. Blood bags were cheaper, but they came with shame. Pills let them pretend they weren’t monsters.

It didn’t matter in the end. Whether you bought into the lie or not, you still lost. You sold yourself to the elite, let them feed on you for as long as you were useful, and when your time was up, you were discarded—fated to eventually become a Feral. Then the only end to your new immortality was to either be burned in one of Bulwark’s incinerators or put down by a Hunter’s bullet.