Page 65 of Primal

“Our tech guy,” Neck Tat says, “Got canned last year for stealing footage. Management kept it hush-hush.”

I return to the keyboard. The system’s gutted—layers rerouted, half the functions grayed out—but some of the admin backend is still intact.

Personnel → Archived Staff → Terminated.

The page loads like it’s limping through molasses.

STEPHEN D. MADDOX

Alias: Steve

Position: Systems Engineer

Status: Terminated–Unauthorized data extraction / breach of NDA

Flagged: Red Level Termination—No Severance / No Re-entry / No Exceptions

Photo: [DATA CORRUPTED]

Background:

Former military—Signals intelligence.

Honorably discharged.

Recruited post-service for tactical systems integration.

Access level: High-tier dev ops, legacy zones, deep-stack architecture.

Notes:

Terminated for unauthorized extraction of sensitive footage. Further details classified.

The feed flickers—and one by one, cameras snap to life again. No control from my end.

One of them shows Payton.

Running.

Another displays a hallway. Empty. Until the image rewinds itself five seconds. Then again. A glitch on loop. A breadcrumb.

The screen flickers once more—and a message appears.

you’re getting warm.

keep digging and she’s next.

I grip the desk. Over my dead body.

Camera 9 flickers.

Jessica’s slouched against a tree, head lolling toward the lens.

Staring.

Then—gone. Back to empty woods.

Neck Tat’s coffee cup hits the floor. “What the actual fuck? Who was that?”