Chapter 12: The Perfect Crime

“Warning: Structural damage detected on the east side of level B2. Dispatch personnel immediately for repairs.”
“Warning: Containment breach of A-1099, ‘Doomsday Seed.’ Initiate final defense protocols.”
“Warning: Lightweight containment unit...”
Bjorn pressed the mute button, finally bringing silence to the room.

The deputy facility supervisor paced anxiously, clutching the communicator tightly, intermittently checking for updates on reinforcements.

[This is the emergency command center. Calling ‘Gardener’ Team 2, report your location.]
[Just exited the interzone highway, traveling at 150 mph, estimated arrival in 20 minutes, over.]
[Hurry up! Once that damned thing enters its next growth phase, it won’t be a grenade launcher that handles it!]
[Do you think we don’t want to be faster? Our whole team deployed within a minute of the alert. What’s the point of rushing us? Do you expect the car to fly? And what exactly is intelligence doing? Where’s the early warning on the project’s instability?]
[There will be a thorough investigation after the fact. Now is not the time for finger-pointing.]
[Understood. No response from inside the facility; ‘high-energy radiation’ protocols likely activated, but the perimeter intelligence station remains silent. Over.]
[They are conducting an emergency interrogation of the facility supervisor.]
[Give that bastard a few more punches—there’s no way this is just a coincidence—]
[This is the operations channel, soldier! Back to cleaning bathrooms for a month!]
[Thank you for the interruption, Commander. Next time, please correct your team’s language. ‘Gardener’ Team 2, the strike squad is in position. If ‘Doomsday Seed’ enters the second growth phase, immediately call the nearest military base for air support.]
[Copy that.]

For the facility supervisor—currently undergoing the “Great Memory Restoration” by Information Security—the timing of the containment breach was particularly unfortunate.

Facility 031 was an experimental containment site, constantly under scrutiny and criticism. Not long ago, a humanoid entity infiltrated a restricted area, resulting in a stern warning to the supervisor and a summons to headquarters for questioning. No sooner had he arrived than the facility suffered a catastrophic incident.

It looked suspiciously like a deliberate setup, or a carefully orchestrated alibi.

Regardless, such a major accident under his watch meant the supervisor was doomed.

Bjorn, the deputy, removed his glasses and covered his face with his hand, struggling to steady his emotions.

The supervisor was a dedicated man—serious about his work, refusing to step back despite his age, tirelessly guarding his post.

Bjorn wondered if that old man could hold on through all this turmoil.

“Sigh...”

Bjorn sighed deeply, then couldn’t help but smile wryly.

“You stubborn old fool, told you not to cling to that supervisor seat.”

Of course, the tactical team and command center had no contact with the interior of the facility because Bjorn had cut communications. Apart from the communicator in his hand, there was no way to reach the outside world!

The security and rapid response teams were equipped with special communicators, but they were all dead. This fabricated the illusion that the “high-energy radiation” had wiped out everyone.

Naturally, having only one person left in the control room was against protocol. According to the Bureau’s stringent Facility Supervision Regulations, no matter the situation, there must be at least three personnel on duty in the control room.

But, there are always exceptions.

“You’re all still young; don’t put yourselves at risk. I know these anomalies better than anyone. I’ll handle them!”

“I’ll stay here, maintain contact with the outside, and direct the recapture of the project! With the supervisor gone, this responsibility falls to me!”

“Stop arguing. Have you forgotten the oath we swore when joining the Bureau—‘to protect humanity at all costs’? After the facility stabilizes, people will be needed to operate it again. I will do my utmost to ensure everyone’s safety. Now, evacuate. This is a direct order from above!”

When Bjorn, the capable second-in-command, volunteered to stay behind alone, everyone else wavered.

People have selfish instincts and will to survive; no one wanted to face the anomaly’s assault. Bjorn’s confident, self-sacrificing stance moved them all. Furthermore, the alarm wasn’t severe at the time. Out of hope, conformity, and obedience to orders, the others evacuated.

Many colleagues tearfully said farewell to him, deeply touched by his resolve.

This indeed was a farewell, but it wouldn’t be Bjorn who died—it would be those who foolishly believed they could hide safely in the shelter.

...If not for him, those people would have perished even sooner.

They mistakenly thought A-1099, “Doomsday Seed,” only required a few layers of emergency suppression!

If Bjorn hadn’t been here, once the radiation device activated, the entire facility would have instantly become a dead zone!

So they might as well enjoy their last moments in the shelter.

By using his authority and insider knowledge to expel everyone from the control room, Bjorn knew he had succeeded.

To ensure command staff safety, the control room was locked down. Without the supervisor’s password, no one could enter from outside.

Once the door was locked, the entire facility was under his control.

“Heh, if this were any other facility, I wouldn’t even get a chance to make a move—this is what happens when you trust computers too much.”

Bjorn glanced again at the messages converted to text on the communicator. As the operation window drew near, nervous sweat broke out; he was restless and on edge.

A month ago, he was a diligent assistant, full of silent complaints but unwilling to express them.

He had served long enough on the front lines. Even though Facility 031 was known for low-risk containment, he was fed up—just seeing the entities made him sick. He was tired of being a warden for these cursed things. The supervisor was an old fool who didn’t understand what proper “research” was. The entire Bureau was clueless! Yet his transfer requests were repeatedly denied. Superiors doubted his suitability as deputy, and the supervisor refused to step down—if he was stuck here, he might as well change departments!

Yet fate gave Bjorn an opportunity.

After receiving a string of administrator keys and quietly verifying their authenticity, Bjorn began plotting.

Since the supervisor wouldn’t step down and the Bureau wouldn’t let him leave, it was no wonder he sought alternatives.

...Today was not the ideal time to act.

He should have struck when the nearby tactical teams were all dispatched to deal with the containment breach—then he could have escaped immediately without waiting for the perfect moment.

Unfortunately, the Intelligence Department, for some unknown reason, replaced the facility’s intelligent management system with a standard control setup and even hired a bunch of temporary workers unknown to the Bureau, leaving Bjorn no chance to sabotage it.

Probably a security loophole had been discovered...

He had to act before the administrator keys expired.

So, during the first day of massive external personnel influx that threw the facility into chaos, Bjorn made his move.

His plan was brilliant: release B-108 early to disrupt the alarm, sabotage the ventilation system to redirect it near the security armory corridor, then release A-1099 to trigger the alarm. As the rapid response and security forces assembled unsuspectingly, they’d be infected by the “zombie virus,” preventing them from containing the “Doomsday Seed” prematurely. Then lure the plant entity to the water storage room to consume pre-stocked nutrient solution, rapidly proliferate... and use other contained entities to eliminate external security.

Every step was interlinked, leading him to freedom’s door.

Now, nothing inside the facility could stop A-1099.

The only drawback was that the “Gardener” Team arrived too quickly.

At the current pace, the tactical team would reach before 1099’s evolution. These elite soldiers would storm the facility and use heavy firepower to reduce it back to its original form.

Fortunately, Bjorn had prepared contingencies. He only needed to find the right moment to manually open the entrances to the other nutrient chambers, then escape the facility—too early would expose the timeline of 1099’s evolution during investigation, too late and 1099 or the tactical team might catch him.

Once 1099 consumed the supply packs, it would grow wildly, break through the surface, and occupy the ground, distracting the tactical team entirely.

By then, even if those in the shelter survived 1099’s spread, they’d perish in the ensuing bombardment.

When all calmed, Bjorn would join the others in the facility in “heroic sacrifice, leaving no remains.”

Beep beep.

The latest message wiped the smug grin from Bjorn’s face.

[Road ahead cleared. The Alliance has some conscience—not causing trouble at a time like this. Arrival in 10 minutes!]

Looks like it’s time to go.

Bjorn approached the console, fingers trembling uncontrollably, jittering across the touchscreen. He held his breath, then was startled by faint footsteps, eyes darting between the two control room doors as he backed into a corner.

After a long moment, he remembered no one could enter without a password, and his racing heart calmed slightly.

Probably some frantic employees who didn’t evacuate and were now panicking outside.

Yes, it had to be that.

He was safe; no one could get in here.

After all, Bjorn was a desk worker, not a special agent. This was his first “rebellion,” and his nerves showed.

Back at the console, Bjorn took deep breaths repeatedly.

It was fine—all still according to plan. This was a precise, interlocking scheme, with ample buffer time. He would succeed.

He clasped his left wrist with his right hand, maneuvering the rebellious fingers, then pressed open the warehouse doors he had memorized one by one.

Alarms exploded on the adjacent screen; sensors all over the facility map flared red, dotted with exclamation marks.

1099 had “scented” its food.

Bjorn forced a smile, regaining his confidence.

That’s right; everything was going as planned.

He picked up the heavy briefcase beside him and headed to the right door of the control room.

This was the last step of the perfect crime—the bright future lay just ahead.

It was time to go.

Just as his hand reached for the switch panel, a door slid open with a whoosh.

It was the other control room door.

“Is that a zombie? No, it’s a normal person!”

“Oh my God, we finally found someone else!”