Chapter Text
The midzone was quiet today. Quiet in that strange, deliberate way the Zone often was—like the world itself was holding its breath. In the shell of an old ARDA facility, long since gutted by time and warped physics, Tobias Barlow adjusted a frequency dial with the kind of care one might give to an antique violin.
"Mid-Band Clear, 7.29 MHz. Patch through?" he asked without looking.
Francis Cooke, half-buried in cables and spare parts near the workshop bench, grunted in affirmation. "You're patched. Try not to monologue her into a migraine this time."
Tobias grinned. "Never."
The radio crackled to life, spitting static and strange background pulses before Maelle's voice came through, distorted but clear enough.
"Morning, gentlemen. I'm about ten klicks out from the southern ridge, poking around those collapsed ARDA towers. Weather's calm... for now."
Tobias leaned in toward the mic, elbow resting on a frayed blueprint.
"Ah, excellent timing! Francis and I were just debating cryptids. Thought we'd add a little mystery to your morning stroll through hell."
Maelle laughed softly on the other end. "You mean again?"
"This one's different! Classic Pacific Northwest myth—Bigfoot. Eight feet tall, smells like wet bark, walks like your uncle who failed dance class."
Francis chimed in from across the room, voice dry but amused.
"It's a persistent local legend. One of the few that pre-dates the Zone. Some old ARDA staff even logged sightings before containment protocols were finalized. More anecdotal nonsense, but... interesting."
Maelle kept walking through the shifting terrain, boots crunching against warped asphalt and moss-grown concrete. Her handheld scanner buzzed quietly, always searching for signatures the human eye couldn't catch.
"So what, you think Bigfoot's some Zone-born anomaly?"
"Oh no," Tobias replied. "I think the Zone saw the myth—and decided to get creative."
As the banter continued, Maelle's pace slowed. Something ahead caught her attention. At first glance, it looked like a reflection—or maybe a mirage. But it hovered, and it pulsed.
The object floated just off the ground: a spherical mass, translucent and viscous, like liquid mercury suspended in place. It rippled as if alive, tendrils of motion undulating inside it like a slow, beating heart.
She raised the scanner and opened the mic.
"Guys... I've got something."
The conversation stopped dead. Even the radio hiss seemed to pause.
"Go on," Tobias said, voice suddenly sharper.
"It's... it's a ball. Kind of liquid, but stable. Like it's breathing. Never seen this signature before."
The data streamed in on her scanner: no readable pattern, no electromagnetic baseline, just an undefined spike in Zone distortion.
Francis's voice was calm but urgent.
"Maelle, I don't like this. If it's not matching any of our records, it could be a Type 4—unstable anomaly. Step away from it. Carefully."
Tobias echoed him, a little louder.
"Get in the car. Back away slowly. Do not touch it, Maelle."
She was already moving, slow, deliberate steps backward, eyes locked on the floating orb.
Then it burst like a bubble.
There was no sound—just a snap, like pressure leaving a room—and a blinding streak of orange lightning arced from the anomaly, cracking the space between them. She didn't even have time to screm as It struck Maelle square in the chest.
She flew backward, limbs flailing. Her body slammed against the cracked road with a bone-jarring thud, rolling twice before she lay still.
Tobias and Francis could hear the impact over the radio.
"Maelle!?" Tobias shouted into the mic. "Maelle, respond!"
Nothing.
Francis was already pulling up visual diagnostics from the scanner feed. "No bio-sync drop. She's alive. C'mon, Maelle. Say something. Please!"
For what felt like hours—though it was seconds—there was only static.
Then came a cough. A groan. And finally:
"... I'm ... Okay."
Her voice was hoarse, slurred slightly from the shock. They could hear her wince as she shifted, pressing a hand to her ribs.
"I think I cracked something," she said, her voice trembling.
"Can you move?" Francis asked, no longer masking the worry in his tone. "Come back to the lab. We need to run a full diagnostic. That thing might've done more than just throw you around."
"Agreed," Tobias added. "Whatever that anomaly was, it wasn't naturally occurring—not even by Zone standards. Just come back here and PLEASE be carefull."
Maelle slowly got to her feet, brushing glass and gravel from her jacket. The scanner she'd dropped was sparking slightly, its casing cracked from the blast.
She limped toward her car, the only safe haven this world still offered her.
"Alright. On my way."