Dr. Noa

Alarms blared. Red lights spun in the halls of Site 91. Everything shook as if the world were falling apart. Maybe it was.

Dr. Noa ran through the main corridor of containment wing D-7, dodging bodies, sealed doors, and thick smoke. Her access card had stopped working on most of the panels. Something was terribly wrong.

Gunshots were heard in the distance. Then, closer.

Noa forced open a maintenance hatch and slipped into an old experimental lab that had been decommissioned months before. The place was dim, lit only by the flashing light from an auxiliary console. She closed the hatch behind her and leaned against the wall. Her breathing was rapid and unsteady. Fear could wait.

Then he heard the metallic sound of the hatch opening again.

She turned sharply, raising a metal bar like a weapon. The dim light revealed another person entering the shelter: covered in dust, his clothes torn, his eyes alert, clearly as lost as she was.

"Stop! Who are you?" Noa exclaimed, without lowering her arm.