The truck's brakes hissed as they rolled into HQ. The base loomed ahead, cold and gray beneath a sky smeared with dusk. Soldiers waited by the entrance, their faces hard and unreadable.

  As the survivors stepped out, their eyes darted around, taking in the high walls, the guarded towers. Safe-but only on the surface.

  The survivors were ushered into the debriefing room, tension thick in the air. Leadership waited-officers standing stiff, a couple of scientists lurking near the back. The survivors sat together, close, defensive. Razor's team stood nearby, a quiet line of strength.

  ----

  The Debriefing

  The survivor leader's voice was steady as she told her story. About hiding, running, losing too many people to the Shadows. About how they survived by staying silent, by choosing who lived and who didn't. Her words were raw, brittle with pain.

  Then came the mutation. The memory that darkened the room. She described the way the Shadow stood, studying them. How it seemed to think, to choose.

  "We left people behind," she said, her voice hoarse. "And sometimes, I think it watched us do it. Like it understood."

  Murmurs ran through the officers. One scientist shook his head, disbelief creasing his brow.

  "That's not possible," he said. "The infected are primitive, instinct-driven. They don't think."

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  Razor's voice cut through, cold and sharp. "We saw one. Bigger. Smarter. It was leading the others. Coordinating them."

  Silence fell. Heavy. Thick.

  And then a younger survivor-Eli-spoke, hesitating. His voice was low, uncertain.

  "There was... one other thing."

  All eyes turned to him. He swallowed, guilt flashing in his eyes.

  "I was cornered once. Shadows everywhere. I thought I was dead. But someone saved me. A girl. I didn't see her face, but she had... platinum blonde hair."

  A shadow passed through the room. Razor's gaze narrowed.

  "She fought like she wasn't scared. Like she knew how to fight them. I didn't even stay. I was too scared. I ran." His voice cracked. "I didn't even thank her."

  The words hung heavy, unanswered.

  "A survivor?" Gator said, his voice skeptical but curious. "Alone?"

  Shadow shook his head. "You sure it wasn't in your head? Shadows mess with your mind."

  But Razor didn't dismiss it. He watched Eli carefully, mind turning over the implications.

  "Someone surviving out there alone, fighting Shadows? That's not something you forget," Razor said quietly.

  But leadership wasn't interested in rumors. The conversation shifted back to protocols, orders, quarantine.

  Tensions Rise

  The survivors bristled as an officer suggested observation drills. It was a polite term, but everyone knew the truth-it was about control. The survivor leader's voice turned cold.

  "We didn't survive this long just to be treated like prisoners."

  Razor's gaze flicked to the officer, then back to the survivors. He didn't speak, but his stance said enough.

  "We're just being cautious," one officer argued. "We have protocols-"

  "We've followed enough protocols to know when they fail," Gator snapped. His jaw was tight, his patience frayed.

  The argument simmered, tension boiling under the surface. Razor stepped in, his voice steady but edged with warning.

  "They're here now. They're alive. That counts for something."

  ____

  Later, after the survivors were led away to rest, Razor and his team gathered outside. The air was heavy, thick with unspoken worries.

  Gator crossed his arms. “You believe that story? About the girl?”

  Razor was quiet for a long moment. “I believe there’s more going on than we know.”

  Shadow looked away. “Doesn’t matter. We focus on what we can control.”

  But even he didn’t sound convinced.

  And Razor… Razor was already thinking about the next mission. About what waited for them in the shadows. And about the girl with the platinum blonde hair.