“Anything changed?” A man in a polished black suit asked. His tie so high it looked like it might choke his tense neck.
“On which front?” Another man replied, his demeanour more friendly, a lab coat hanging untidily around his form. Bags sunk his brown eyes as he suppressed a yawn.
“Both,” Suit replied impatiently. Lab coat sighed and scrubbed at his eyes before concentrating on the screens. He needed coffee, and more than one night of sleep. Uncomfortable hours on the sunken sofa was the most he could hope for.
“He's the same. The other issue...well, I think our concerns from nineteen years ago are becoming a reality sir...” Lab coat trailed off, spinning in his chair so he faced Suit. He scratched at his stubble nervously as he watched Suit's unreadable expression.
“Then I guess we've no choice but to re-open the old case files,” Suit replied. The answer Lab-coat had feared, the one that made the blood drain from his face.
“I thought those were burned-” Lab coat began, even though they both knew the truth.
“I never burn a file with so much potential. No matter what the government demands,” Suit said.
“But...if we follow through with this...the world as we know it-” Lab coat rambled, his grip on the chairs armrests tightening.
“It will be completely destroyed if we don't,” Suit interrupted, for once the reminisce of sadness entering his tone. He cleared his throat loudly and turned, The automatic steel doors closing with a final click behind him. Lab coat stared at the computer screen again, his skin looking ashen in the glow. If only he would co-operate, they needn’t ruin innocent lives. With a defeated sigh Lab coat headed to the archives. He found the boxes, covered in dust. Upon opening it, the words “Project UGI” glared up at him. Memories flooded his senses of the various experiments and failures. Many lost lives and pitiful cries in the night. He dropped the folder he'd been holding onto the table as if burned. Had they not done enough damage with this thing? But he knew as objections swam to the forefront of his mind, that this was always an inevitability. They had always made clear their intent if what was theirs wasn't returned. And proud Suit had chosen to ignore the threat. Now they were going to pay the price.
Lab coat noted the code to memory and headed back to his desk. He moved the boxes with a trolley, paranoid that every camera lens he passed was judging him as harshly as any human eye could. When he was back in his office and facing the screens he launched the interface. The little box appeared, asking for the code that was imprinted on him forever like a dirty scar. He typed in the random combination of numbers and letters swiftly.
Then with a slow breath and an internal prayer to a god he didn't believe in, he pressed enter.