Chapter 6 - The Vault of Secrets
Rows of glowing glass storage lockers lined the interior of the vault, filled with vials of glowing liquids, experimental pathogens, and high-grade chemical precursors. But Clara didn't hesitate; she moved directly toward locker section 4B, where the radioactive isotope logs were kept.
"Found it," she said, grabbing a lead-lined metal canister from the shelf and popping the latch. Inside sat three glowing blue glass ampoules of the purified palladium catalyst.
Footsteps echoed right outside the vault door.
"Mason!" a harsh voice shouted over the intercom. "You’re walking into a tomb!"
Victor Vance’s voice reverberated through the speakers, accompanied by the heavy clanking of tactical reinforcements flooding the hallway. The steel vault door began to automatically slide shut, programmed to lock down on command.
"Move!" Mason roared, grabbing Clara by the shoulder and hauling her forward just as the heavy steel door slammed shut with a thunderous crash, sealing them inside the vault.
Silence descended upon the room, save for the hum of the internal climate control system.
Clara clutched the lead canister to her chest, her breathing coming in ragged gasps. "We're trapped."
"Not yet," Mason said, pulling a heavy breaching charge from his tactical belt and slapping it against the manual override mechanism on the inside of the vault door. "Victor thinks a vault is a cage. I call it a metal box."
He stepped back and detonated the charge.
The explosion was muffled by the thick steel, but the blast blew the locking mechanism completely out of the frame. Mason kicked the smoking door outward, sending it crashing into the corridor floor.
Waiting outside wasn't just security guards—it was Victor Vance himself, holding a chrome-plated pistol aimed directly at Clara's chest.
"Impressive," Victor sneered, stepping out from behind a concrete pillar. "The housekeeper and the brute. Who would have thought? But your little excursion ends here."
Before Victor could squeeze the trigger, a deafening roar echoed from the loading bay above.
The heavy concrete ceiling overhead shuddered violently, raining dust and debris down onto the guards. A secondary explosion shook the entire building, followed by the unmistakable sound of heavy artillery fire and screaming engines.
"What the hell is that?" Victor shouted over the noise.
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Through the smoke of the loading dock corridor, a massive armored black truck plowed straight through the reinforced glass doors of the facility, its headlights cutting through the white smoke like searchlights. At the wheel sat a heavily bandaged figure in a black trench coat, one arm in a sling, his cold, piercing eyes locked squarely on Victor Vance.
Adrian Vale had woken up.
