But...
As he grinned triumphantly and tried to throw his weight into a roll, he didn't budge an inch.
Joker's foot remained clamped onto him like a vice.
The sudden jerk against the pressure crushed his chest, forcing a mouthful of bloody saliva to spew from his lips.
Pale and wheezing, he stared wide-eyed at the pod.
One second passed.
Two seconds passed.
Three seconds passed...
The apocalyptic bloodbath he was waiting for never happened.
The massive stretch of The Logistics Spine was utterly dead silent.
Inside the pod, there was only stillness. No thrashing, no feral roars.
Even the erratic vitals that had been spiking off the charts mere seconds ago had bizarrely flatlined into perfect stability the moment the clock hit zero.
The only movement in the room was the endless cascade of complex code crawling down the terminal.
The commander's victorious grin calcified.
The vicious triumph in his eyes was slowly swallowed by complete bewilderment.
Sprawled pathetically on the floor, he didn't even bother wiping the blood dribbling down his chin.
He just stared at the pod, utterly paralyzed.
What was going on? Why wasn't anything happening?
The purge protocol had executed flawlessly! The Primal Catalyst should have detonated in its bloodstream the second the timer died!
Why... why was the pod so quiet?
Why hadn't Specimen Fourteen gone berserk?!
"N-no way..."
His throat tightened, the words tumbling out as a mindless whisper.
Ignoring the agonizing pressure of Julian's shoe, he craned his neck violently to stare at the primary monitor.
A new prompt flashed across the screen.
[Omega Purge Protocol failed.]
[Target control privileges have been intercepted by an external source.]
The commander froze completely, as if he had been struck by lightning, his eyes nearly bulging out of his skull.


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