The base wasn't sleeping. Not anymore.
Since the revelation of the Cooperator file, FLUFF-13 had entered what Zina grimly called "Condition Shadowwhisker." No alarms. No announcements. Just a quiet lockdown disguised as routine maintenance. Fewer patrols. More cameras. Tighter movement logs. Conversations became shorter. Eyes shifted more. Even laughter felt forced, like everyone was auditioning for normal.
Luke lay awake on a cot in the barracks, staring at the ceiling fan that had been spinning at the exact same speed for three hours. It didn't even creak. Across from him, Hrum stood in complete stillness by the wall, his ears twitching with what Luke now understood was silent rage — the kind that brewed not from fear, but from betrayal.
"You know something," Luke finally said, not even turning his head.
Hrum didn't look at him. "I know a lot of things. Some of them are useful. Some of them involve you getting vaporized if you keep talking."
Luke chuckled quietly. "Okay. Point made."
A pause.
Then Hrum exhaled — slow, deliberate. "There were three agents stationed in Theta-9 two months ago. One returned. One's dead. One was Duskpaw. Supposedly KIA."
"Supposedly," Luke echoed.
"Exactly," Hrum said, with a note of weight.
At 0400, Zina summoned them to a storage bay that had been repurposed into a covert ops chamber. It looked nothing like the clean, bright war rooms of HQ propaganda. Low light. Shielded walls. One grumpy mole in the corner pretending to fix a pipe that probably hadn't worked since the last flood. Everything smelled faintly of oil and tension.
"We need to know what Theta-9 holds," Zina said without preamble. "But command won't authorize a full team. They think it's a wild lead. They're more concerned with the supply lines near Zone K."
"So we go alone," Hrum said without hesitation.
Zina nodded. "Three's a crowd," she added, eyes flicking to Luke. "Which is why I'm not coming. I'll dig from this end. You two — extract intel, stay off comms, and try not to make more enemies than friends."
Luke looked at the map. Theta-9 was deep in the Echo Belt — a half-abandoned data grid zone on the edge of rabbit-territory, full of ruins, derelict satellite dishes, and legends of ghost-signals.
"Any chance this doesn't end in a mutant ambush or emotional trauma?" Luke asked.
"Very slim. Bring snacks."
—
The drop zone was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that didn't just lack noise — it rejected it.
Luke had expected at least some kind of reception — mutant squirrels, rusted drones, a mysterious radio transmission in Latin. But Theta-9 greeted them with broken pylons, fields of cracked concrete, wind that whispered like it had secrets, and dust. Lots of dust. The kind that clings to your boots, then your mood, then your soul.
"Theta-9 smells like burnt toast and regret," Luke muttered.
Hrum didn't respond. He was already scanning. The rabbit's ears twitched once, then stilled. "Low power readings. Traces of comms activity. But no signs of organic life."
"That's comforting," Luke said, not comforted.
They advanced through what had once been a relay station — tall towers, now tilted and half-collapsed, and clusters of old solar dishes that pointed nowhere. Luke noticed that some of the wires had been rerouted, not just torn down — repurposed for something else.
"Someone's been here. Not long ago."
"Yes," Hrum said, crouching. He held up a small shard of glass. It was warm. "This was from a thermal lens. Infrared optics. Scav tech. Recent."
Luke's pulse picked up. "So we're being watched?"
"Likely. But we're boring to watch. They won't attack unless we get interesting."
They reached a semi-intact comms tower — crooked, like a drunken giraffe with trust issues. Hrum climbed it effortlessly while Luke admired gravity from a safe distance. From the top, Hrum plugged into an old satellite jack. A flicker of power came through. Then static. Then a fragment of a message:
"—Theta log #314—
If you're receiving this… then I failed. Duskpaw out."
The signal died.
Luke stared at Hrum. "Did he just say out? Like he was signing off from a podcast?"
"It was him. His voice. No question."
"So he's alive?"
Hrum didn't answer. He simply jumped down, landing softly. His eyes stayed locked on something in the distance — a blinking red light near the edge of a ridge.
"Tripwire drone," he said. "That's not resistance tech. CarniCorp uses those for perimeters. This area's hot. We're not alone."
Luke lowered into a crouch, trying to copy Hrum's posture and ending up looking like a confused flamingo.
"So what now?"
Hrum's ears moved like miniature radar dishes.
"Now we dig. And we don't get caught doing it."
—
The thing in the shadows wasn't human.
It lunged. Not like a predator. Like a glitch. A blur that shouldn't move the way limbs move, its body jerking in odd directions as if physics had given up halfway through animating it.
Luke barely had time to react. Hrum did.
With one motion, the rabbit flung a flash-seed — a small, spherical device that exploded in a burst of light and scent. Not lethal. But enough to confuse.
The creature shrieked — and stumbled back. Not from pain. From instinct.
"Scanner!" Hrum barked.
Luke fumbled with the handheld, finally pointing it at the thing just as it backed into clearer view.
And then he saw it.
It wasn't a drone.It wasn't a beast.It was wearing a resistance badge.
"No. No no no..." Luke whispered. "That's—"
"Theta Unit armor," Hrum confirmed, lowering his blaster. "Outdated model. But still ours."
The creature stood upright now. Its head tilted.
Then it spoke.In a broken, mechanical voice:
"Access… denied.Purge protocol… standby…Reassign identity: Echo-Dusk."
Luke stepped back. "Reassign what now?"
Hrum's expression was unreadable, but his paw hovered near the trigger.
"It's not Duskpaw," he said quietly. "Not anymore."
The thing — Echo-Dusk — twitched, then turned and ran.
"Do we follow it?" Luke asked.
"No. We mark it."
Hrum threw a tiny dart-shaped tag that embedded into the creature's back just before it disappeared behind the debris field. A soft beep confirmed the tracker was online.
"We've got movement data," Hrum said. "If it leads back to CarniCorp's edge grid, we'll know. If it doubles back… we'll know that too."
Luke stared at the path it had taken. "So… we found Duskpaw. Sort of."
"We found a message," Hrum replied. "Written in the shape of a former friend."
The sky above them dimmed. Twilight was creeping in.
"Time to vanish," Hrum said. "Before they send whatever comes after Echo."
—
They didn't talk much on the way back.
Theta-9 seemed to fall away behind them like a bad dream trying to pretend it was over. But the silence wasn't peace. It was pressure, building up in the cabin of the drop-shuttle as it cut through night air like a blade.
Luke sat in the rear, staring at the tracking data. Echo-Dusk hadn't stopped moving. Not once. Whatever it was now, it didn't rest. It didn't need to.
Hrum sat in silence, his paws folded, his gaze locked ahead. But Luke could tell his mind was grinding. Cold, sharp thoughts churning beneath the surface like steel shavings in a processor.
Back at FLUFF-13, Zina was waiting. Her expression was unreadable — which for her meant very bad. The debrief room was already lit. Data feeds. Holograms. Security footage rerouted into the chamber. The smell of burnt circuitry hung in the air.
"Report," she said.
"We found him," Hrum said. "Echo-Dusk. Formerly Duskpaw. Probably reconditioned."
Zina stiffened. She didn't blink. "They're using repurposed agents."
"That's not all," Luke added. He tossed the scanner chip on the table. "He left a message. Or… the echo of one. He knew. Knew he was compromised. Knew we'd find it."
Zina listened to the recording. The faint, broken line:
"If you're receiving this… then I failed."
When it ended, she leaned forward, tapping at the edge of the holoscreen. Slowly, a list opened. Not the same one from the Cooperator file. A different one. Older. Deeper.
Zina's voice dropped. "Project E.A.R. was built on the assumption that once we lost someone to CarniCorp, they were gone. But if they can reprogram and return them… that's a different war."
Luke frowned. "Then why didn't Echo-Dusk kill us?"
"Because maybe some part of Duskpaw is still in there," Zina replied. "Or maybe he wasn't supposed to engage. He was supposed to observe. Confirm something."
"Confirm what?"
She didn't answer.
Instead, she turned to Hrum. "I want the tracker monitored 24/7. If it stops, you wake me. If it loops back… you wake command."
"Understood," Hrum said.
Zina finally looked at Luke. "You did good. Not great. But good. You didn't die. That's progress."
"I'll embroider that on a pillow," Luke mumbled.
As they left the room, Hrum paused beside Luke.
"This was just the beginning," he said. "They're not coming for our tech. They're coming for our people."
Luke nodded. But in the back of his mind, something from the encounter still echoed. Not Duskpaw's message.
It was that strange phrase:
"Reassign identity: Echo-Dusk."
Because if they could reassign someone like that…What stopped them from doing it again?
To someone else?
Maybe even someone already inside.
[to be continued...]
"5 Things to Know Before Getting a Rabbit"
1. Rabbits don't live on carrots alone — it's like giving a kid only cake.
2. They need space — cages are prisons, not homes.
3. Rabbits need specialized vets — not everyone knows how to handle ears.
4. Rabbits are social. Isolation breaks them.
5. Never get a rabbit on impulse. It's not a toy — it's a life that trusts you.