BEYYOND

Back at home, Jason gently shut the door to his sister Elyse's room, where she was curled up with Jay, their overly enthusiastic but slightly unkempt pup. He sighed, shaking his head.

"You're going to catch something sleeping beside that furball," he muttered under his breath, though he couldn't help but smile at the sight.

Jay let out a soft whine, tilting his head as if he understood. Jason crouched down and scratched behind his ears. "Don't worry, buddy. I'm giving you a bath tomorrow whether you like it or not." That would be a battle of its own—a war of wills between man and dog.

His phone buzzed. Arnon.

Jason already knew what it meant before he even read the message.

Get back. Containment failed.

Jason exhaled sharply. So much for the night off.

Arnon had rushed straight back to the office after dinner when the emergency call came in. Jason had promised to follow in five minutes—just enough time to drop Elyse and Jay at home.

Now, he grabbed his laptop bag, locked the door, and hitched a ride with Robert, the team's Internal IT Liaison.

Robert, ever the night owl, greeted him with a lazy grin as Jason slid into the passenger seat. "Figured you'd be tagging along," he said, revving the engine. "Sarah's losing her mind. Whatever this virus is, it's not playing by the rules."

Jason rubbed his temples. "Yeah, no kidding. I'll bet Arnon's already trying to brute-force his way through it."

Robert chuckled. "And Diego's swearing at the firewall like it personally offended him."

Through the windows, Jason could already see the eerie glow of monitors, casting long shadows against the walls. He took a deep breath. Time for battle.

The office was deathly quiet except for the hum of machines and the occasional frustrated sigh. Jason settled at his desk, stretching his arms high above his head before cracking his knuckles.

"Alright, let's see what you are," he muttered, opening his laptop.

The virus had evolved. It had slipped past their containment measures, spreading unpredictably through the network. But this wasn't normal malware—it wasn't after data or financial gain. Instead, it changed things.

Jason's console flickered as he pulled up the system logs:

• Files that never existed suddenly appeared.

• Employee records were scrambled—wrong names paired with incorrect IDs.

• Login timestamps showed people signing in before their accounts were even created.

"Miracle virus," Jason sighed.

Arnon leaned over his shoulder, eyes bloodshot. "I restored a compromised server twenty minutes ago. It's infected again."

"That fast?" Jason frowned.

"I don't think it ever left."

Sophia, their digital forensics expert, walked up with a fresh cup of coffee, setting it beside Jason. "This thing doesn't spread through traditional methods. No phishing, no exploits, no lateral movement. It's like…" She hesitated, struggling to find the right words.

"Like it's hunting," Jason finished.

Sophia nodded grimly. "It doesn't just spread—it chooses where to go."

Diego, from network security, called out from his desk. "I just blocked a suspicious outgoing connection, but the moment I did, another one popped up somewhere else. It's like—"

"Whack-a-mole?" Robert suggested.

"Yeah," Diego said. "Except the moles are learning."

Jason clenched his jaw. He had seen viruses act aggressively before, but this was different. It wasn't just adapting. It was anticipating

The team launched into action.

• Arnon spearheaded containment efforts, isolating compromised systems.

• Sophia and Jason dug through logs, trying to track the infection's origin.

• Diego monitored real-time traffic, tracing the virus's movements.

• Robert scrambled to fix corrupted user accounts before anyone noticed.

Hours blurred together. Coffee cups piled up. The office smelled like stress and caffeine.

At some point, Sarah, their team lead, stormed in, equal parts exhausted and furious. "Tell me we have this under control."

Jason hesitated. "Seventy-five percent contained. But the remaining twenty-five percent is the tricky part."

Sarah sighed, rubbing her temples. "I don't care what you have to do—end this."

The clock ticked past 4 AM.

Arnon finally leaned back, exhaling deeply. "I think… I think we stabilized it."

Jason double-checked the logs. No new infections. The remaining compromised files were isolated, and the virus hadn't made a move in over an hour.

It wasn't a win, but it was close enough.

"Good enough for now," Jason murmured, standing. "I need sleep before my brain melts."

Sarah waved him off. "Fine. Two hours. Then we go again."

Jason collapsed into bed, exhaustion dragging him under before his mind could protest.

At first, the dream was pleasant. A warm breeze. Distant laughter. Familiar voices, blurred but comforting. A sense of belonging.

Then, something shifted.

The warmth turned cold. The laughter stretched, distorting into something unnatural. The faces blurred, then merged—their features dissolving until only eyes remained.

Too many eyes. Too large. Too knowing.

They stared, unblinking.

Jason tried to move, but his body was frozen. The air thickened, pressing against him like an invisible weight. The eyes weren't just watching him.

They knew him.

Something deeper than recognition. Like he was being remembered.

Then, in eerie synchronization, they all blinked.

Darkness.

Jason jerked awake, gasping. Sweat clung to his skin, his pulse hammering against his ribs. For a split second, he wasn't sure if he was truly awake.

The room felt… off.

Like something had shifted while he slept.

His eyes flicked to the clock.

4:17 AM.

Two hours of sleep.

It would have to be enough.