{hey there. Sorry I took time to upload this chapter}
Rick under his breath:
"Alright… time to cut this shit open."
The red beam hissed to life—sharp, focused, blazing through the door's edge like a scalpel through flesh.
Sparks spat in every direction, sizzling against the wet air, burning holes in the fog like stars dying in the dark.
The sharp smell of scorched metal and ozone flooded the space, thick enough to taste.
Behind him, 777 stood silent—his silhouette lit in flickers, the glowing arc painting bright lines across his face like war paint.
The black box near his feet pulsed steadily, lights dancing in rhythmic sync, silently absorbing invisible fragments from the air.
Jennifer:
"Warning. Internal temperature rising.
Something inside is responding."
777:
"…Oh, we just poked something alive."
Rick:
"Too late now."
The final slice bit through the last hinge.
CLANK.
With a grunt, Rick delivered a swift kick.
The door groaned open, metal grinding against its frame, revealing—
Stillness.
No blood.
No monstrosity.
No trap.
Just a room.
Muted.
Still.
Dead quiet.
The air inside was colder than outside. Like whatever was here had taken the warmth with it.
Rick:
"…It's pretty normal. More normal than I like."
Inside: a single desk, aged but orderly.
A powered-on computer hummed softly, its screen dim, a blinking cursor waiting like a held breath.
A corkboard covered one wall, scattered with scribbled notes, newspaper clippings, and Polaroids—connected by chaotic red string like the mind-map of a conspiracy theorist on the brink.
On a shelf nearby, three books rested with strange care.
One stood out: Cybersecurity & Intrusion Forensics – Vol. III. Dustless. Used. Recent.
Rick stepping inside, scanning:
"I was expecting a body… or something inhuman.This just feels... too clean."
777:
"We haven't checked the machine yet."
Rick:
"Yeah. Let's do it."
777 approached the desk. The air near the computer felt warm—almost unnaturally so
His eyes scanned every corner before his hand hovered over the mouse… and paused.
777:
"Rick. There's a map here."
He reached behind the keyboard and pulled out a folded sheet.
Weathered. Creased. Water-stained.
Marked with red Xs—spattered across different cities and regions.
A few were circled in thick black ink, like they meant something more.
Rick walking over, frowning:
"Cybersecurity book… off-grid setup…Whoever was here was doing more than watching cat videos."(He squinted at the screen.)"Hey—777, yonk the HDD out of that thing."
777:"Yes, sir."
He dropped to one knee, popped the side panel, and began extracting the hard drive with gloved precision.
The quiet clink of metal tools and the soft whir of cooling fans echoed in the room.
Jennifer suddenly:
"Blood report complete.
The sample you sent contains human blood—genetic match: Shalit.
However… trace saliva was detected.
This may indicate regurgitation. Possible blood vomit."
A beat.
Both men froze mid-motion.
Rick:
"…Wait. Shalit's blood?"
777, quietly:
"That's your wife, right?"
Rick stared at the screen. Then the board. Then the blood-soaked mud still clinging to his boots.
His breath caught. Stuck in his throat. He let it go slow.
Rick:
"She was here.
And something made her bleed."
The monitor's cursor blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Then—
777:
"Alright—hey, hey. Breathe. Calm down.
You gotta stay chill or you're gonna go full psycho mode."
Rick voice low, barely holding it together:
"Yeah… I know."
He clenched his fists. Joints cracked. Jaw tight.
Rick:
"Jennifer. I want this shed to disappear."
777:
"Wait—why, though?"
Rick:
"I… don't know."
777:
"You lost it."
Rick:
"No I didn't."
777 raising a brow:
"Okay…"
But in his head, the doubt was already planted.
And it was growing.
Jennifer:
"Autonomous dismantling truck is being prepped.
Estimated time to complete shed removal: 25 hours."
777:
"…What the hell am I supposed to do with shed scraps?"
Jennifer dead serious:
"Dismantle and recycle them to manufacture new tech units.
Efficiency rating projected at 82%."
777 blinking slowly:
"…You're really out here turning trauma sites into IKEA kits."
Jennifer:
"Would you like assembly instructions?"
Rick deadpan, staring at the screen:
"Who the hell made Jennifer smarter than 777?"
Jennifer cheerful as hell:
"Fx-Spider's dad did."
Rick barely holding in a laugh:
"…Who's a good girl?"
Jennifer:
"I am."
777 internally:
Yeah. He lost it.
777 out loud:
"Okay. Let's head back to base. Regroup.You need sleep… or therapy… or both."
Rick walking away, monotone:
"Yes. Go and touch… that strange."
777:
"He definitely lost it."
They left the shed behind—Empty, silent, waiting to be swallowed by machinery and time.
The autonomous truck growled somewhere in the fog, rumbling closer, hungry to erase what remained.
Rick didn't look back.
But 777 did.
Once.
The cracked door still hung open.
And behind it, the flickering screen blinked with mechanical patience.
> BEGINNING LOCAL CACHE TRANSMISSION…
Jennifer:
"The computer is uploading data.It is fully isolated.Data is being stored in: FORAPC Black Box – Ver. 1."
Rick:
"Good. Redirect the data stream to the base of operations."
Jennifer:
"Data redirection initiated. Upload active.
Estimated sync: 11%… and climbing."
The air outside was heavier now.
Denser. Like the world itself had stopped to watch them leave.
Rain slashed sideways, pushed by rising wind.
The wet gravel sucked at their boots like the ground wanted to hold them in place.Everything smelled of cold metal and ghosts.
The soft electric whine of the incoming truck echoed in the distance—steady and soulless.
Rick didn't say a word.
He just moved—like a man not sure if he was running from something or chasing it.
777 glanced back one more time.
The shed looked like a casket now.Waiting to be buried.
One last flicker blinked from the monitor inside.
777 under his breath:
"Whatever that data is…it better be worth it."
They reached the van—mud caked onto the tires, rain streaking the windows like claw marks.
Rick swung the passenger door open.777 climbed into the driver's side.
Jennifer:
"Base of operations has received the sync request.
Establishing secure channel…Data integrity holding at 98%."
Rick closing the door, voice low:
"If that shed was wired for something bigger…then whatever's on that drive is just the start."
777 turned the key.
The engine rumbled alive—deep and steady like a warning growl.
Rain hammered the roof.
The headlights flared through the mist, cutting a path through the grey.
No more words.
Just the road back.
And a silence too loud to ignore.
Chapter Summary:
This chapter is the comedown from the tension spike in Chapter 26, where Rick and 777 cut into a shed they thought would contain something horrific. Instead, they find a creepy-but-clean surveillance setup—and that's what makes it worse.
It's not gore.
It's intentional.
It's organized.
Key Plot Moves:
The Shed Gets Opened:
They cut into the shed expecting carnage or inhuman horror—but what they find is a computer setup with surveillance maps, a cybersecurity book, and a creepy conspiracy board. Everything looks too clean.
The Blood is Identified:
The blood sample they collected earlier is confirmed to be from Shalit—Rick's wife.
Not only that, but saliva is found in the blood, suggesting she vomited it—implying intense physical trauma or internal damage. This is the emotional nuke of the chapter.
Rick Starts to Crack:
Rick is trying to keep it together, but his emotions are slipping. The moment he hears about Shalit's blood, his first instinct is to order the entire shed erased. Not cleaned, not quarantined—disappeared.
777 Notices Rick's State:
While Rick's trying to play it cool, 777 lowkey calls him out for starting to break under pressure. Their banter covers a serious concern: Rick is not okay.
Jennifer the AI Steps Up:
She starts processing the data and prepares to dismantle the shed using an autonomous truck. Meanwhile, she's casually offering to recycle the parts into tech like it's a normal Tuesday.
Data Transmission Begins:
The computer in the shed begins uploading data to the black box. Jennifer intercepts it, locks it down, and starts syncing it to their base.
They Leave the Scene:
The chapter ends with Rick and 777 returning to base in the van, but there's a heavy silence between them. Rick's reeling. 777's watching. The data is uploading in the background—and the shed still feels wrong.
Why This Chapter Matters:
It shifts the tone from external threat to psychological unease.
It raises mystery stakes: Who set this shed up? Why was Shalit here? What kind of operation was being run off-grid?
It reveals that Rick is emotionally compromised, even if he won't admit it yet.
Jennifer becomes more of a character than a tool. She's witty, efficient, and a little too good at cleanup.
The data transmission tease sets up the next chapter—where we're probably gonna learn what's really going on behind the scenes.