Xavier Evans stood at the edge of the observation deck, fingers gripping the polished railing as he gazed out over the sprawling compound below.

  From this height, their home resembled a strange hybrid of corporate retreat and military installation, exactly as their father intended. The massive oval-shaped main building dominated the center, its gleaming solar panels catching the morning light. Surrounding it, a carefully orchestrated landscape of gardens, training facilities, and research buildings stretched toward the tree line that marked the property’s edge.

  Near the center of the property, the sleek helicopter that would soon retrieve their guests sat ready on the landing pad, its blades occasionally twitching in the light breeze like a nervous animal. His dad ordered it in all black with a single purple thread spiraling on each door; like half a helix.

  “Greetings everyone. My name is Xavier Evans, and I’d like to personally welcome you to our home!” he practiced aloud, the words echoing slightly in the empty space.

  He grimaced. Too formal? Too enthusiastic? How exactly was he supposed to greet people who didn’t know they’d fought alongside you in an apocalyptic future?

  “They’re going to think we’re a cult,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

  The comm unit at his wrist buzzed. “X, they’re ten minutes out,” Margo’s voice crackled through the speaker. “You ready for this?”

  “Absolutely not,” he replied, watching a group of security personnel conduct drills on the field below. The men and women moved with practiced precision, none of them random hires, all of them survivors from before. People Dad had found, vetted, and quietly brought into the fold.

  “Why can’t one of you handle the greeting?”

  “Because you, dear brother, used to be a theater nerd,” Margo’s teasing tone couldn’t quite mask her own anxiety.

  “That was one year! And you all were!” Xavier protested, already heading for the elevator.

  “It was definitely your loudest year,” Maeve’s voice joined the conversation. “You couldn’t grab a bag of chips without breaking into song and dance.”

  The elevator doors slid open with a soft hiss, revealing his youngest sister already inside, arms crossed and smirking. Nadia had apparently been listening to the entire exchange.

  “Can you BELIEVE all this?” she asked, her eyes wide as she gestured vaguely at everything around them.

  The question hung between them, charged with meaning that went beyond the impressive facility. Could they believe they were living double lives, carrying memories of a future that hadn’t happened? Could they believe they were preparing for the apocalypse while pretending to be a gaming company?

  Probably “D: all of the above,” as their father would say.

  “Sorry,” Nadia mumbled into the silence. “Didn’t mean to bring the room down.”

  “Nah... you’re good sis.” Xavier squeezed her shoulder. “It really is a lot. Completely unbelievable.”

  The elevator began its descent, passing floors of laboratories where researchers in white coats bent over equipment far more advanced than anything the public had access to. Purple Thread Entertainment: a name that had appeared in the tech world just eighteen months ago and immediately revolutionized virtual reality gaming. A perfect cover for gathering resources, recruiting talent, and preparing humanity for what was coming.

  “We pulled it off though,” Maeve said as she joined them at the ground floor, her typically stoic expression betraying a hint of pride. “That’s the key takeaway.”

  “We’ll make it better this time,” Xavier said, straightening his suit jacket. “I can’t believe the technology that’s allowing the new VR headset.”

  They walked together through the atrium, a soaring space of polished concrete and living walls of carefully cultivated plants; Margo’s doing of course. Through the massive windows they could see the serene lake that served as both an aesthetic feature and an emergency water supply.

  People moved about their tasks with purpose; training, researching, building. Some of them thinking they were simply part of an innovative tech company with unusual perks.

  Only a select few knew they were preparing for the end of the world.

  “Yeah, it was wild seeing that sky again,” Nadia said, shuddering slightly. “I’ve been having nightmares for weeks since I put the stupid thing on.”

  “It was eerie, to say the least,” Margo agreed, appearing from a side corridor, lab coat still on, a smudge of soil on her cheek.

  “It’s a great preparation for what’s to come though,” Maeve observed, her eyes constantly scanning their surroundings; a habit from a life that technically hadn’t happened yet. “By getting Sophie involved, dad basically has unlimited funds and tech at his fingertips.”

  “Don’t mention that name around mom though,” Xavier laughed, the sound strained. “Man, she really hates that lady.”

  “Well, it’s obvious she has a crush on dad,” Nadia said with the bluntness of someone who still looked fourteen despite being older in experience.

  They all erupted in laughter, the tension breaking momentarily.

  “What?” Nadia asked, genuinely confused.

  “You just put it in such simple terms, sis,” Xavier shook his head, the helicopter’s approaching thrum becoming audible. “I better get going. Everyone should be arriving at the tarmac shortly.”

  They paused at the main doors, the weight of the moment settling around them like a physical presence.

  “It’s gonna be weird seeing everybody again,” Xavier said softly. He could still see some of them as they had been before; bloodied, desperate, fighting alongside them at the end. Now they would arrive fresh, untraumatized, and with no memory of what they had endured together.

  “Everyone to your places,” he said, squaring his shoulders. “You know how Dad is about punctuality.”

  As his sisters dispersed to their assigned positions, Xavier headed toward the landing pad where the helicopter was touching down. He gave himself two quick slaps on the cheeks, an old pre-performance ritual from his theater days, and flexed his cheeks.

  “I’m ready for this,” he assured himself, though the slight tremor in his hands suggested otherwise.

  The elevator chime announced the church representatives’ arrival. As he watched their approach through the glass walls of the conference room, a familiar anxiety began creeping up his spine. The weight of the impending conversation and the potential threats to their plans started to cloud his thoughts. He knew he needed absolute clarity.

  The helicopter blades slowed, and the door opened to reveal a face he knew better than his own, though its owner had no idea.

  Tyrus Lee, the legendary marksman who had taught Maeve everything she knew about archery, stepped onto the tarmac, eyes narrowed against the dust.

  Xavier approached with a practiced smile; hand raised in a welcoming gesture. “Greetings everyone. My name is Xavier Evans, and I’d like to personally welcome you to our home.”

  The guests emerged from the helicopter, squinting in the bright Alabama sunshine. Xavier guided them toward a fleet of electric carts waiting to transport them deeper into the compound. The visitors’ expressions ranged from cautious curiosity to barely concealed awe as they took in the sprawling facility.

  “Purple Thread Entertainment may have begun as a gaming company,” Xavier explained, his voice carrying easily over the purr of the electric motors, “but my father’s vision has always been more... comprehensive. What you’ll see today represents the future of sustainable living, technological innovation, and community resilience.”

  “We call it…The Nest.”

  The main building loomed before them, its curved architecture both imposing and elegant. Solar panels lined the roof, shifting subtly to track the sun’s movement. Security checkpoints were integrated so seamlessly into the design that they almost appeared decorative, though the trained eye could spot the military-grade protocols in place.

  “We’ll divide into smaller groups for the tour,” Xavier announced as they reached the central plaza. “My sisters will guide you through different sections of our facility based on your areas of interest.”

  As if on cue, Margo, Maeve, and Nadia appeared, each with the same carefully crafted welcoming expression that revealed nothing of their inner thoughts. For those who had fought alongside these women in another timeline, the sight would have been jarring; these polished, composed versions bearing little resemblance to the hardened warriors they had become.

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Margo, soil still smudging her lab coat, beckoned to Melissa and Beverly. “I believe both of you have backgrounds in medicine and science? You might find our research wing particularly interesting.”

  Melissa raised an eyebrow. “You’ve done your homework on us.”

  “We like to ensure our guests see what resonates with them,” Margo replied smoothly. “Shall we?”

  The eastern wing housed a series of interconnected greenhouses, each maintaining its own carefully regulated ecosystem. Plants from every continent flourished under specialized lighting, their growth patterns monitored by an array of sensors.

  “We’ve developed several proprietary growing methods,” Margo explained, her enthusiasm evident as she guided them through rows of vegetation that seemed almost unnaturally vibrant. “These tomato plants, for instance, yield three times the normal harvest while requiring half the water.”

  Beverly examined a cluster of unfamiliar herbs with professional interest. “These aren’t just for food, are they? Some of these have medicinal properties.”

  “Very observant,” Margo smiled, her eyes lighting up with genuine pleasure at Beverly’s insight. “Our pharmaceutical division has been working on sustainable alternatives to synthetic compounds. Many traditional medications can be derived from plant sources with fewer side effects when properly processed.”

  She led them deeper into the complex, past researchers in white coats who nodded respectfully as they passed. The air grew thicker with humidity as they entered a tropical biome where dense foliage created a canopy overhead.

  “This section focuses on rare species preservation,” Margo explained, gesturing to plants labeled with scientific names neither woman recognized. “We believe biodiversity is essential for long-term survival. Each extinct species represents lost potential medicinal properties, agricultural applications and ecosystem stabilization.”

  Melissa’s scientific mind raced to connect the dots. “This goes beyond corporate research and development.”

  “My father has always taken a... long view of humanity’s challenges,” Margo replied carefully. “Resource scarcity, climate instability, pandemic potential; these aren’t just abstract concepts to him.”

  Beverly and Melissa exchanged glances, both recognizing that what they were seeing represented years, perhaps decades, of intensive development; far longer than Purple Thread Entertainment had officially existed.

  “I’m curious,” Beverly said carefully, “how a gaming company pivoted to such extensive biological research.”

  Margo’s cheeky smile remained fixed, but something flickered in her eyes. “Who says it was a pivot?”

  Meanwhile Maeve led Tyrus, Michael, and Viktor toward the eastern edge of the compound where the forest met carefully manicured training grounds. Unlike her sister’s enthusiastic tour narration, Maeve maintained a professional distance, her explanations precise and economical.

  “Our security protocols require all staff to maintain minimum physical standards,” she explained as they passed groups engaged in what appeared to be military-style drills. “Corporate espionage is an ongoing concern in the tech sector.”

  Tyrus, his weathered face betraying nothing, studied the training exercises with a professional eye. “Those aren’t defensive maneuvers they’re practicing.”

  “Observation skills are crucial in any security operation,” Maeve replied, neither confirming nor denying his assessment. “I understand you have experience in tactical operations, Mr. Lee.”

  “A lifetime ago,” Tyrus said, his eyes never leaving the training group. “Though some things you never forget.”

  “Like proper trigger discipline?” Maeve asked, leading them toward a sleek, partially subterranean structure with reinforced walls and advanced security systems.

  The shooting range stretched underground for what seemed like impossible distances, targets set at intervals that would challenge even veteran marksmen. The walls were lined with cases containing weapons ranging from standard service pistols to specialized long-range rifles.

  “This is military-grade equipment,” Michael noted, his expression carefully neutral despite the evidence before him. “Not typical corporate security.”

  “My father believes in thorough preparation,” Maeve said, selecting a precision rifle from a nearby rack with practiced ease. “Would you care to demonstrate your skills, Mr. Lee? I’m told you were quite accomplished.”

  Tyrus accepted the weapon, checking it over with the careful hands of someone who had spent years handling firearms. “Been a while since I’ve shot competitively.”

  “I’m sure it will come back to you,” Maeve said, something like anticipation flickering across her usually stoic features.

  Viktor hung back, his analytical mind cataloging every detail of their surroundings. The facility’s layout, the equipment’s quality, the staff’s behavior; all suggested something far more comprehensive than mere corporate security.

  “You’re not just watching for industrial espionage,” he said quietly to Maeve as Tyrus took his position at the firing line.

  Her eyes met his, measuring and assessing. “There are many kinds of threats in this world, Mr. Petrov. Some more immediate than others.”

  The crack of Tyrus’s first shot echoed through the range, hitting dead center on a target nearly eight hundred meters distant. A perfect shot that should have been almost impossible for someone who claimed to be out of practice.

  Maeve’s expression didn’t change, but something like satisfaction flickered in her eyes. “Muscle memory is a remarkable thing, isn’t it?”

  Nadia claimed the technological heart of the compound for her tour group, leading Richard, William, and Damion through corridors of humming servers and holographic displays. Despite her youthful appearance, she spoke with the authority of someone intimately familiar with cutting-edge systems.

  “The computational requirements for true neural integration are exponentially higher than conventional VR,” she explained, gesturing to a server room where cooling systems maintained perfect temperature control. “We essentially had to reinvent processing architecture from the ground up.”

  William, his engineering background evident in his questions, examined a display showing what appeared to be neural pathway modeling. “This goes well beyond gaming applications.”

  “The human brain doesn’t distinguish between ‘real’ and ‘simulated’ experiences once immersion reaches a certain threshold,” Nadia replied. “Training conducted in a sufficiently realistic virtual environment transfers almost perfectly to real-world application.”

  “Training for what, exactly?” Richard asked, his security expertise making him particularly attentive to the implications.

  Nadia’s smile was both innocent and knowing, a disconcerting combination on her youthful face. “Everything from surgical procedures to disaster response protocols. The applications are limitless.”

  She led them deeper into the facility, past rooms where technicians monitored bank after bank of processing units. The air thrummed with barely contained power.

  “Our latest VR interface operates on principles closer to direct neural stimulation than conventional sensory manipulation,” she explained, stopping before a sealed chamber where a chrome headset sat in a specialized containment unit. “The experience is... transformative.”

  Damion stepped closer to the glass, drawn by some inexplicable fascination. “That doesn’t look like the headset I’ve been using for the beta test.”

  “This is the next generation,” Nadia confirmed. “Currently undergoing final safety protocols.”

  “The beta test,” Richard said slowly, connecting pieces of a puzzle he couldn’t quite see. “It wasn’t just about gameplay feedback, was it?”

  Nadia’s eyes met his, ancient wisdom in a child’s face. “My father has always believed in preparing for multiple contingencies, Mr. Chen. The beta testers were selected for their... adaptability.”

  As afternoon stretched toward evening, the tour groups reconvened in a central courtyard where refreshments had been arranged. The guests mingled, exchanging observations in hushed tones while their hosts maintained a careful distance, allowing them space to process what they’d seen.

  “Did you notice the evacuation protocols posted in every wing?” Richard murmured to Beverly. “Complete with designated rally points, supply caches, medical triage stations; this place is designed to function during a catastrophe.”

  “The agricultural section has seed vaults that could restart entire ecosystems,” Melissa added, her scientific mind racing with implications. “And Margo mentioned they’re developing crop strains that can thrive in ‘extreme climate conditions.’”

  Tyrus, his weathered face revealing nothing, sipped his drink silently. His eyes, however, never stopped moving, cataloging exits, security positions, sightlines. “Military-grade training facilities disguised as corporate security,” he finally said, his voice low. “Whatever game they’re playing, it’s not just virtual reality.”

  Williams nodded, absently adjusting his glasses. “The computing power here could run small countries. And their neural interface technology is generations beyond anything I’ve seen in development anywhere else.”

  “What are they preparing for?” Viktor asked the question that hung in all their minds.

  “Perhaps the better question,” Damion suggested, watching as Xavier approached their group, “is why they’ve brought us here to see it.”

  Xavier’s smile was perfectly calibrated, warm enough to be welcoming, reserved enough to maintain professional distance. “I hope you’ve enjoyed your tour of our facilities. Dinner will be served at eight in the main dining hall. Until then, you’re welcome to rest in your assigned quarters.”

  As they were escorted to the residential wing, Morgan, Damion, and Jackson ran ahead, enthusiastically exploring the common room with its plush furnishings and state of the art entertainment system. The others followed more slowly, still processing everything they’d witnessed.

  The residential wing maintained the same blend of luxury and functionality evident throughout the compound. Each suite featured spectacular views of the surrounding wilderness along with amenities that anticipated every need. Yet even here, the careful observer could note the reinforced doors, emergency protocols(again) posted discreetly by each exit and the subtle thickness of walls designed to withstand more than weather.

  Morgan, Damion, and Jackson ran and plopped down hard in the chairs, jumping up and down on the incredibly soft cushions as they waited for whatever would come next.

  “This is a lot, isn’t it?” said William to the gathered individuals.

  “I’m trying to figure out the purpose of the tour,” chimed in Victor with suspicion. “I expected a business, not a way of life.”

  “Yeah, I noticed every one of us got a tour of a location that appealed to something we’ve always desired to do,” said Richard.

  “Sonuvabitch, you’re right!” whispered Tyrus loudly.

  “There isn’t a hook to it,” said Damion softly to the gathered group. “We all want to say the word cult, but there’s not a religious undertone or fanatic belief look in anyone’s eyes. It just seems like regular people enjoying life.” He added.

  “Their reliance on nature and science shows a symbiotic relationship with no sole dedication to one. I saw robotics as well as advanced horticulture,” said Melissa as her years of chemicals and research had taught her.

  “I agree,” said Beverly. “We were definitely shown this for a reason, and I’m guessing the reason is walking in right now.” She nodded towards the door.

  The door opened, and the air in the room seemed to shift. An African American man in an impeccably tailored suit stepped in, his presence immediately commanding attention. The beta testers found themselves instinctively straightening in their chairs, as if in the presence of royalty.

  His eyes, sharp and perceptive, scanned the room, seeming to take in every detail in an instant. Each tester felt the weight of his gaze as it passed over them, a mixture of curiosity and assessment in his look.

  As he moved towards the head of the table, his steps were measured and deliberate, exuding a quiet confidence that spoke of immense capability. The very air around him seemed charged with potential, as if he carried an aura of the unknown.

  When he finally spoke, his voice was rich and authoritative yet tinged with warmth.

  “Welcome, everyone. I’m Alexander Evans, founder and CEO of Purple Thread Entertainment. Thank you for joining us in this endeavor.”

  The testers exchanged glances, suddenly aware that they were in the presence of someone extraordinary. His words gave a warmth the group wasn’t expecting from a complete stranger, beta testers or not.

  Everyone felt a slump in energy as he left the room. They each departed to their room shortly after to prepare for a meal they would never forget.