I'll be the Red Ranger

Chapter 189 – The Lab

- Oliver -

"Besides, our objective at this moment is closer," he explained. "Our first objective is the original laboratory where the Nameless were created."

Unlike the other installations scattered throughout the subterranean complex, the laboratories were easily reachable on foot without needing transport. However, the path to it was fraught with danger. Soldiers patrolled the area relentlessly, their silhouettes moving methodically against the harsh glow of industrial lights. The air was thick with tension, every shadow a potential threat.

One of the rebels, a wiry young man with a scar tracing his jawline, glanced nervously at the patrols. "Leader, wouldn't it be better to wait for more of our people to descend?" he suggested, his eyes darting between the approaching guards and the small band of revolutionaries.

"Don't worry," Lian replied, a faint smile playing on her lips. "We'll only encounter soldiers down here. Rangers are prohibited from entering these depths."

"But why?" the young man pressed, confusion knitting his brow. "It doesn't make sense."

Lian sighed softly. "I don't know either. But those have always been the orders." His gaze hardened as he looked toward the guarded laboratory. "And it's a restriction we can use to our advantage."

Oliver walked silently beside them, his mind racing. ‘Without Rangers, they can't mount a formidable defense against a group like ours,’ he mused. ‘Why the hell aren't there any Rangers if these installations are so important?’ The absence gnawed at him, an incongruity he couldn't reconcile.

Occasional bursts of gunfire echoed through the building as sentries exchanged fire with the rebels. Skirmishes flared and faded like brief sparks in the darkness, but they pressed on undeterred.

As they neared the laboratory complex, the architecture shifted subtly. Warning signs and cryptic symbols adorned the walls. Some faded with time, others glowing with luminescent paint.

They halted before a set of heavy doors. Imposing slabs of reinforced steel embedded with digital lock mechanisms. Unlike the engineering areas they'd passed, these doors bore no identifying marks, just a foreboding silence.

A tall man with broad shoulders stepped forward. His eyes flickered with determination as he approached the entrance. "I'll get us in," he declared. He pressed against the doors, muscles straining, then turned his attention to the control panel beside them. His fingers danced across the interface, attempting various codes and overrides. Each attempt was met with a defiant beep and a flashing red light.

"It's no use," Lian said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "These doors have been sealed for decades. Without the proper access, they won't budge."

Lian reached into a concealed pocket and withdrew an access card. The card's surface was smooth, etched with intricate circuitry, and bearing a really old emblem of the NEA. Oliver saw the same emblem in the history classes of the first wave.

"This is what you need to open them," Lian explained, holding the card up so the group could see.

He stepped forward, pressing the card against the scanner embedded in the doorframe; he waited. For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then, a soft chime sounded, and the scanner's light shifted from red to green.

With a hiss of releasing pressure, a thin stream of gas escaped from the seals around the door. Mechanisms whirred to life, gears turning as the doors began to part. Dust stirred, swirling in the artificial light as the long-sealed chamber revealed itself.

"Record everything. Take photos and make notes. Use any means you have to capture as much information as possible," Lian commanded, his voice cutting through the stale air of the abandoned laboratory. "This will be the first and last time we're here."

The team dispersed, their footsteps echoing in the vast, silent chamber. Oliver swept his gaze over the room, taking in the rows of dust-covered consoles and workstations. A thick layer of grime coated every surface, muting the once-glossy sheen of advanced equipment. Time had stood still here; no human had set foot in this place for years, perhaps decades.

Oliver moved toward a nearby table cluttered with obsolete devices and yellowed documents. As he brushed away the dust, particles danced in the dim light filtering through cracked panels above. Lian's assertion appeared accurate, this facility had been sealed off for an immeasurable span of time.

"Why was this place closed for so long?" Oliver asked, his curiosity piqued. He glanced over his shoulder at Lian, who was meticulously examining a central console. The others continued their exploration, some capturing images with handheld scanners, others rifling through storage units for anything of value.

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Lian paused, his fingers hovering over the console's interface. "The lead re

Lian finished speaking.

The leader stepped away from the computer terminal. He carried something in his hands, an object that gleamed dully under the sparse lighting. "We're done here," he declared firmly. "Document everything you can, and prepare to depart. It's time to wipe this facility clean." His tone brooked no argument, and the other members began to file out, their expressions a mix of determination and apprehension.

As the team dispersed, Lian approached Oliver once more. He extended his hand toward him. Resting in her palm was a small device. A data drive, no larger than a finger, encased in brushed metal and etched with intricate circuitry patterns.

"Keep this," he said quietly. "Perhaps you'll find a solution within it."

Oliver accepted the drive, feeling its surprising weight against his skin. The metal was cool to the touch, grounding him amidst the storm of emotions raging within.

"You’re not special Oliver. Just a clone and yet, you’re," he added softly, before turning and following the others out of the laboratory.

Left alone amidst the relics of a past that was intimately linked to his own, Oliver stood motionless for a moment. He looked down at the data drive cradled in his hand, then back at the photograph on the table.

Uncertainty gnawed at him. He didn't know how to process everything. The memories he held dear, the fragments of a childhood he cherished, they could all be artificially implanted experiences. Yet the emotions they evoked were genuine, the love he felt for his parents undeniable.

A surge of determination welled up within him. Whatever his origins, he was his own person now, capable of making his own choices. If there was even a chance to right the wrongs inflicted by the Empire, he had to seize it.

Resolute, Oliver reached for the photo frame. With a swift motion, he shattered the glass, the sharp crack echoing softly. Carefully, he extracted the photograph, folding it with reverence before tucking it securely into the inner pocket of his vest, close to his heart.

‘Let's finish this,’ he thought.