The Red File Book Two : Code Obsidian

In the Shadow of the Original

The warehouse the team had claimed as temporary shelter was dim, its walls humming with power rerouted from scavenged Crimson tech. Outside, rain began to fall—soft at first, then heavier, masking the distant sound of sirens still responding to the earlier blast.

Emma sat alone at the edge of a workbench, her fingers curled around the data chip Kael had given her. The one that carried the final words of the original Emma.

She hadn't plugged it in yet.

Behind her, voices murmured—Noah and Ezra cross-checking Crimson's remaining server pings, Lira helping patch up Wren's arm, Kael standing perfectly still like a machine on standby, though Emma knew now he was always listening. Always processing.

Emma Prime. The words rang in her skull, louder than any explosion.

She was meant to lead. Not because she earned it—but because she was designed to.

Her reflection in the broken monitor nearby stared back at her, warped, split. Was she really Emma? Or just a shadow of a woman who died building an army of herself?

She finally spoke.

"Kael."

He turned instantly. "Yes, Leader."

"Why me?" she asked quietly. "Why not one of the others? Why wasn't Wren chosen? Or Tessa?"

Kael approached slowly. "Emma Prime assessed all surviving variants. Genetic stability, adaptability, autonomy. You weren't the strongest... but you questioned authority even when broken. She saw that as strength."

Emma's lips tightened. It wasn't comfort. It was weight.

Just then, Noah rushed in, holding a flickering holo-pad. "We found something."

The whole crew gathered, crowding around.

"We backtracked the Crimson system before it melted down," Noah said, "and found a relay ping—encrypted and masked, but it bounced twice before dying out."

"Where?" Emma asked.

Ezra answered grimly. "Greenland. Old weather research station. Decommissioned decades ago... or so they said. It's a hidden node, off every grid."

Kael added, "Codename: Obsidian Vault. The final facility. Where the last generation of subjects were sent."

The words hit harder than the Crimson blast. Obsidian Vault.

"Then that's where we go," Emma said firmly.

Wren looked up from where she was tightening a sling. "If it's the last one, they'll be expecting us."

"Good," Emma replied. "Let them. We're not the ones running anymore."

Noah met her eyes. "You sure you're ready for this?"

Emma glanced at the data chip one last time before sliding it into her jacket.

"I don't know what she left for me," she said quietly. "But I know what I have to do."