The Cipher: Locks and Keys

Previously: Lockey endured relentless torment at the hands of Yuri, whose cruel interrogation methods intensified with each passing moment. Despite the overwhelming pain and the chemicals coursing through his veins, Lockey’s resilience shone through as he fought to protect his secrets. Yuri, bloodied and frustrated, contemplated his next move, realizing that he needed more time to extract crucial information.

Meanwhile, in the lab, Serena and Yuri discussed the effects of the chemical they had used, revealing the delicate balance between torture and survival. The introduction of Sir Techno added a layer of tension, as his authority loomed over Yuri's plans. As Yuri prepared to face Afron and report his findings, the stakes continued to rise, leaving Lockey's fate hanging in the balance.

At the Door of Sir Afron’s Base...

Yuri paused at the entrance, staring at the heavy steel door in front of him. He took a deep breath, wiping the sweat from his brow. This is it. He had to tell Afron about Lockey’s interrogation—what little progress he had made. The weight of failure hung on his shoulders, but he couldn’t afford to crumble now.

With a sharp exhale, he swiped his access card and the door slid open with a mechanical hum. Inside, the scent of expensive liquor still lingered in the air, a reminder of the debauchery that had taken place hours earlier.

Yuri’s gaze landed on Sir Afron, who was buttoning up his shirt, clearly recovering from the indulgence of his earlier activities. His movements were sluggish, and he winced slightly, pressing his fingers to his temple.

Afron groaned, catching sight of Yuri. “Took you long enough,” he muttered, rubbing his head as if nursing the aftermath of a drunken headache. He stretched, the stiffness in his muscles evident. “Ugh, what a blast,” he added, with a half-hearted chuckle, reaching for the half-empty glass on the table.

Yuri forced a smile, masking his nerves. “It would be an honor to join you next time, Sir,” he said with a stiff bow, though the very idea made his stomach churn.

Afron waved his hand dismissively. “Enough pleasantries. What have you got?”

Yuri straightened, choosing his words carefully. “He isn’t in possession of the Beta Vault, Sir. It turns out he’s already passed it on—to a cult we’ve been monitoring for possible connections.” Yuri's voice was steady, but inside, his anxiety brewed. He needed to present the information clearly—any slip-up could be fatal.

Afron raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “And which cult might that be?”

Yuri took a breath, glancing at the floor before answering. “The ChronoLux, Sir.”

Afron stiffened slightly at the mention of the name, the tension palpable. He took a moment, then asked, “ChronoLux, huh? Any leads on their whereabouts?”

Yuri shifted his weight, trying not to appear too uncertain. “Unfortunately, no precise location, Sir. They’re nomadic—constantly moving. Even our best scouts haven’t been able to track them down.” He rubbed the back of his neck, wondering if that excuse would be enough to satisfy Afron.

Afron crossed his arms, leaning back slightly as he processed the information. His expression was unreadable, but Yuri could sense the displeasure in the air. “Very well then,” Afron said finally, his voice low. “You may leave.”

Yuri hesitated, his feet rooted to the spot. Now or never. His pulse quickened as he struggled to find his voice. “Sir… there’s something else.” His heart pounded in his chest as Afron’s cold gaze fell on him.

“Is there a problem?” Afron’s tone was sharp, slicing through the silence like a blade.

Yuri swallowed hard, summoning the courage to speak. “The ChronoLux… they might know about the whereabouts of the… Grand Architect.” His voice faltered, the weight of the words hanging in the air.

Afron’s expression darkened. He stared at Yuri, unblinking. The silence stretched on, oppressive and thick. Yuri felt his skin prickle with anxiety, his mind racing. What have I done?

Afron remained motionless for several seconds, his face betraying nothing. Then, finally, he spoke. “The Grand Architect, you say?” His voice was calm, almost too calm, and it sent a chill down Yuri’s spine.

Yuri shifted uncomfortably, the tension unbearable. Why is he so quiet? His mind raced, wondering if he’d made a grave mistake. “Yes, Sir,” he stammered, trying to maintain composure. “Based on what I’ve gathered, they know more than we think.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Yuri fought the urge to fidget, his nerves fraying by the second.

Afron’s voice finally broke the stillness, low and menacing. “You suspect an insider, then?” He didn’t look at Yuri, his gaze fixed on the floor as if contemplating something far more sinister.

“Yes, Sir. Someone close. Possibly someone in Division 0 or 1.” Yuri’s mind flashed through the faces of his colleagues, but he couldn’t pin down anyone specific. “A rank 2 or below wouldn’t have access to this kind of information.”

Afron’s cold stare turned to Yuri. “Find out who the traitor is. If you fail…” His eyes narrowed, the threat clear in his tone. “Your head will pay the price.”

Yuri’s heart sank. He bowed deeply, his voice barely a whisper. “Understood, Sir. I will find the traitor.”

Afron’s glare lingered for a moment before he turned away. “You never finish a task to my satisfaction. Now leave.”

Yuri stood there, frozen for a second too long. I have to say something, or he’ll… He mustered up a final statement, his voice tight. “Lockey is likely in the experimental lab now, Sir. My interrogation ends here, as per Sir Techno’s orders.”

Afron’s expression twisted into something darker, more dangerous. “You never do enough.” His cold eyes pierced Yuri’s very core. “Investigate who the traitor is. If you fail, it’s your head.” Afron’s voice was ice, leaving no room for argument.

Yuri, paralyzed, nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

With that, Yuri turned on his heel and left the room. The door closed behind him, and outside, Yuri ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He exhaled heavily, glancing around the dark corridor. Where do I even start? The weight of the task bore down on him.