Scene 14
He woke.
Light struck him first.
White. Sterile. Relentless.
It didn’t illuminate the room—it consumed it. Pressed into his eyes, burrowed under his skin, until it felt like it was thinking for him.
A cell.
Of course.
A hollow breath slipped out of his chest.
Fitting.
He was going to die here.
Alone.
…
No.
Not alone.
There was someone else.
A man—locked into place by interlocking metal plates, as though his body had been forced into a shape it never agreed to hold. Arms pinned. Torso sealed. Neck left bare.
Exposed.
Defenseless.
Benjamín’s gaze faltered.
No.
Not him.
It should be him in there.
Not this man.
He moved without thinking—fast, unsteady, desperate.
His hands forced their way between the plates. He pushed, strained, felt the bite of metal against his skin.
Nothing.
His strength wasn’t there. It didn’t answer him. It was like trying to move the world with a broken body.
“Come on…” he muttered under his breath.
Nothing.
His hands trembled.
His eyes lifted—
—and met the man’s.
Empty.
No fear.
No resistance.
Not even pain.
Just… acceptance.
As if the outcome had already settled inside him.
Benjamín stepped back.
Once.
Twice.
“No…”
…
The voice cut in.
Distorted. Dragged through static.
A megaphone.
“You’re awake.”
A pause.
“Finally.”
Benjamín turned sharply, searching for the source.
There was nothing to find.
Only light.
“It’s time you made an important decision.”
“Who are you?” he asked.
Silence.
Then—
“That doesn’t matter.”
Another pause. Deliberate.
“Your life… or his.”
The air thickened.
“Murder him.”
Flat. Direct.
“A few blows to the head will do it.”
Benjamín didn’t breathe.
“Or you surrender.”
Silence stretched.
“Choose.”
He didn’t remember moving.
But he was already in front of the man.
Close enough to see the faint pulse in his neck.
Fragile.
Waiting.
It would be easy.
Absurdly easy.
All he had to do was—
end it.
How many had he done the same to?
Too many.
His hand twitched.
Something in his expression shifted—subtle, but absolute.
No.
Not this time.
He stepped back.
“How do you plan to kill me?” he asked, his voice splitting under the weight of it—anger, yes, but something else tangled underneath.
A laugh answered him.
Dry. Hollow.
“Gas.”
A low hum through the megaphone.
“You know how it works. Like yours… only stronger.”
His throat tightened as he swallowed.
He glanced back at the man.
“And him?”
“We’ll remove him. Decide.”
His body started to give.
A fine tremor, creeping through muscle and bone.
His knees hit the ground with a dull impact.
His head lowered.
Breathing—uneven, shallow.
“A shame,” the voice sighed. “That’s the wrong choice.”
Benjamín closed his eyes.
And chose anyway.
Metal shifted.
Gears turned.
The plates split open with a grinding shriek. Unseen hands pulled the man free—quick, efficient.
Gone.
As if he had never been there at all.
Silence reclaimed the room.
Benjamín waited.
One second.
Two.
Nothing.
…
“Congratulations.”
Not from above.
From in front of him.
Close.
Too close.
His eyes snapped open.
He looked up.
A man stood there.
Black suit. Dark skin. A smile that didn’t belong on a human face.
Sharp.
Measured.
Wrong.
“My name is Atlas—”
Benjamín moved before the sentence could finish.
He surged to his feet, hand locking around the man’s throat.
Lifted him.
Effortless.
His grip tightened.
Harder.
Harder.
Atlas didn’t react.
Not a flinch. Not a breath out of place.
Nothing.
“Put me down,” he said calmly.
As if this were routine.
“We need to talk.”
Benjamín’s hand trembled.
Not from strain.
From something else.
“Put me down.”
A beat.
Then—
he let go.
Atlas landed cleanly on his feet, posture unbroken.
“Interesting,” he said, adjusting his collar. “But impulsive.”
Benjamín didn’t look at him.
Didn’t want to.
“What do you want?”
“Your participation,” Atlas replied. “In a project.”
A dry, humorless sound left Benjamín’s throat.
“You think I’d trust someone like you?”
“No.”
A pause.
“But I don’t believe you have a choice.”
That made him look.
Directly.
A stare meant to kill.
Atlas held it without effort.
“Come with me.”
Silence settled between them—heavy, suffocating, inevitable.
And this time—
Benjamín didn’t argue.