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Dear diary,

I am not sure what day it is right now because I have not seen sunlight since joining the Fatality Alpha Team. I got this man, [redacted], telling me to keep on testing. "Push it further," he says. "We’re close," he insists. I don’t even know what we’re close to anymore.

At first, it felt like a dream—a chance to be part of something groundbreaking, a team hand-picked for their resilience and focus. I was proud. Now I’m not so sure. The walls here hum with an eerie energy, and the faint flicker of overhead lights reminds me how isolated I’ve become. The others on the team don’t speak much. We used to exchange awkward small talk in the beginning, but now it’s all grunts, head nods, and occasionally whispers. Even their eyes look different—tired, like mine, but empty too.

[Redacted] says we’re making progress, but what does that even mean?