Private The Lights That Weren’t On (BIRTHDAY BASH!!!!)

[Greah Dobson]

Greah stepped back, finally pulling her saber hilt into her palm — a smooth, slender thing, curved like a crescent fang.

"You're not the only one with toys," she spat.

 

[Andrew Lonek]

Andrew's helmet locked in.

"No," he smirked, his voice modulated now.
"But mine look better on camera."

 

[Sommer Dai]

Sublevel 4 — Genetic Vault Exit Corridor

The corridor was narrow, cold, bathed in pulsing red from the lockdown lights now blaring overhead.

C-7's bare feet slapped softly against the metal flooring as she followed Sommer, her posture eerily calm. Even as explosions rumbled far below, even as emergency klaxons shrieked like dying sirens, she kept close behind her origin.

"The virus worked," C-7 said. "They're gone. All but me."

Sommer didn't answer. Her throat was tight. Her hands trembled at her sides — not from fear, but from fury.

From grief before the death had even come.

"We make it out, I'll get you a name," Sommer said quietly. "Not a number. A real one."

They reached the lift doors, the emergency override blinking red. Sommer slammed her palm against the panel—

"LOCKDOWN PROTOCOL: ACTIVE. UNAUTHORIZED EXIT DENIED."

"Damn it," she growled.

 

[Linn Dobson]

Behind them, a speaker hissed to life.

Linn Dobson's cold, methodical voice seeped from the walls like poison gas.

"The clone is an error. A corruption of the baseline. You were never meant to bond with it."

 

[Sommer Dai]

Sommer spun around. "Her."

 

[Linn Dobson]

"No," Linn replied. "It."

"She's unstable," Linn continued, tone level, uncaring. "And now that I've seen your data under pressure, I no longer need her. You've given me the final algorithm. Thank you for your service, Ms. Dai."

 

[Sommer Dai]

C-7 froze.

A low-frequency hum began building in her spine.

She looked down at her hands. They were shaking.

"What's happening?" she whispered.

Sommer stepped toward her — just as C-7 dropped to her knees, clutching her head in agony.

"NO—NO, I DEACTIVATED EVERYTHING—" Sommer screamed, rushing forward.

The clone's body began to twitch. Her nerves misfiring. Her muscles tearing themselves apart with invisible commands from deep in her genetic code.

 

[Linn Dobson]

Linn's voice was barely a whisper now.

"Failsafe embedded in the hippocampal stem. You activated her. I shut her down."

 

[Sommer Dai]

"I'll kill you," Sommer breathed.

C-7's breathing was shallow now, desperate, as she looked up through tears at her mirror.

"… a name."

Sommer dropped to her knees, holding her.

"You don't die like this. You're not just a—"
"—copy." C-7 smiled weakly. "I know."

The light in her eyes dimmed. Her body slumped forward, motionless in Sommer's arms.


No theatrics. No grand score.


Just silence… as if the system recognized death when it saw it.


Sommer stared blankly. The weight of C-7's head in her lap. Her breath catching in her throat. Something inside her snapped—not in rage, but in resolve.


She laid C-7 gently on the floor, brushing the clone's hair from her brow.


Then she stood.


And with murder in her heart, she turned to find the next exit.

 

[Andrew Lonek]

A jagged plasma-scar burned across the ceiling, letting in streaks of wild sky and smoke. Turbulent winds howled through the vertical shaft that once served as the main structural corridor of the facility. Now it was a freefall arena, lit by flickering alarms and collapsing catwalks.


Andrew flew upward with fire at his heels—his armor gleaming from fresh impacts, helmet visor crackling with combat data.

 

[Greah Dobson]

Greah met him in mid-air, her crimson saber twisting like a serpent, striking down with lethal grace. Her eyes were wild now, but focused—hungry. Her hair streamed behind her like a banner of war.

"You could've walked away!" she screamed as their weapons clashed, blade to gauntlet, plasma singing against beskar.

 

[Andrew Lonek]

"You really don't know me," Andrew growled through his comms. "Walking away isn't in the manual."

He twisted midair, using a magnetic grapple to whip around a falling support beam, his other hand firing a micro-missile that screamed past her head and detonated behind her, scattering debris.

 

[Greah Dobson]

Greah spun with elegance, catching herself on a descending catwalk, springboarding off it with the Force and slamming into him chest-first, her saber nearly biting into his neck joint. Sparks flew.

 

[Andrew Lonek]

Andrew jerked his head back, visor sparking, and slammed his forehead into hers.

 

[Greah Dobson]

Greah reeled, shrieked, flipped backwards in the air—and then recovered too quickly.

"You're running on tech and attitude," she spat, hovering, breathing heavy. "I'm running on purpose. You think that's something armor can match?"

 

[Andrew Lonek]

Andrew hovered, rising with the thrum of his jetpack, eyes locked on hers behind the visor.

"Nah," he said. "But I do think you're stalling."

 

[Greah Dobson]

She blinked.

"For wha-"

 

[Andrew Lonek]

BOOM.


The upper core ruptured. A second explosion from the eastern wing sent a firestorm blooming behind Andrew, lighting him up in silhouette.

"You got me outside, sweetheart," he said, voice low. "You gave me satellite feed, and now I've got more than my armor…"

His targeting system locked.

"…I've got her coordinates. And you're just a warm-up."

 

[Greah Dobson]

Greah's rage snapped into full violence. She rushed him, saber leading—

 

[Andrew Lonek]

But Andrew dropped.


He cut his repulsors, dropped like a stone—twisting mid-air, letting her momentum pass overhead—then fired his grappling line upward, catching her ankle.

"Let's take a walk!" he shouted—and ripped her down into the scaffolding below.

They crashed through three floors, slamming into the maintenance junction with bone-breaking force. The corridor shattered in sparks and falling steel.