An Artificial Monster. Infested Hanger Bay. A corpo Spy.

Domitia doesn't stop.

She grabs the bioweapon and keeps dragging it along as her ion thrusters burn at maximum, even as it claws into her armor. Just as it begins to get below the initial plates, she flips and tosses the monster forward. The beast crashes through one wall and cracks another. In the darkened office, the beast bolts back out, Domitia meeting it with a blast of ion, not meant to kill but to slow.

The bellator has an idea of what she's up against - A Lazarian Being. It had always been a rumor whispered in the barracks or between briefings, a creature cooked up by Lazarus BWD to compete with the Bellator Program. It had always been amusing to Domitia to hear those rumors, as she knew Lazarus' intentions weren't to compete with the Bellator Corps but to formulate a proper countermeasure.

This one seemed to be it.

The ion rounds are diffused by its heat-resistant outer dermis, and as it lopes forward, Domitia can see the plasma tips of its claws begin to activate. She barely evades the first swipe, only to get struck by its tail, leaving a gash of molten metal across her chest. The bellator goes to strike with her mace, but the beast anticipates this, catching her arm with its tail. It tries to drag her in to maul her, but she resists, burning her thrusters backward to try and pull away.

"Measured. Calm." The beast speaks, "Hormone levels nominal. You have not activated your Legacy."

"Don't need it." Domitia grunts as suddenly she reverses thrust and slams into the beast's chest, loosening its grasp.

She hammers away one claw and blasts the other aside with her lance, landing a sabaton across its face plate, leaving a scuff mark. She brings her Kinetic Maul in, but as she goes in for the blow, the tail whips out, slashing against her arm, leaving another white-hot gash. Domitia tries to recover her momentum, but the beast presses in.

A claw rips across her chest plate, pulling one of the outer plates clean off, cutting into the false muscle underneath, blood boiling as the flesh underneath begins to mend itself. Domitia feels her Legacy releasing pain suppressors, allowing her to stay focused as the beast scuttles forward. The tail stabs out, and she barely evades the strike for her neck. She boosts forward, launching herself forward and striking a blow across the back of the beast with her ion lance. The lance scars its outer dermis but fails to burn anything below it.

She rolls to her feet, just in time for the beast to leap at her; she dodges underneath it, its tail catching her along her shoulder, taking out one of her thrusters, the smell of burnt flesh reaching her nose. Despite it, Domitia remains in control, not letting the pain get to her. She knows she doesn't have the weaponry to kill it quickly; she'll have to be creative. It's as the creature rises up, its head cocked slightly, she notices its face plate is now slightly askew.

"Curious. Your kind often resorts to rage now." The creature observes, "You do not give into your Legacy."

"We pay a price when we do that." Domitia says grimly, "Bit of our humanity, every time."

"A weapon that values its humanity. How intriguing. It's a shame my creators are not here to study you. I would paralyze you to ensure your mind would be intact enough to study." The Artificial Monster's claws click as it flexes them, "Are you ready to die, bellator?"

"Was born to die." Domitia growls, "But I'd rather die with stars shining down on me."

She lunges forward, knowing she has to go for the head. Unseating that mask is her only chance of victory. Despite her uneven thrusters she barrels forward, the beast flowing backward to envelop her, but as the claws come to slice her apart, the bellator plants one foot down, redirecting her thrusters to spin upwards and away from the claws. She manages to land a strike with her maul, cracking the beast's bone but paying for it with another tail strike.

She lands on her feet, skidding away as the beast follows. She primes a grenade, holding it in hand as she lets the safety off it, mentally counting down as the beast gets close. The monster lashes out with claws, and she replies by leaping back and tossing the grenade. The beast anticipates this and bats it aside with its hand while its tail lands a stabbing strike to the Bellator gut.

The blow takes her strength, and she stumbles back. The beast goes for a killing blow; Domitia is barely able to evade the strike and is unable to reply with her maul. She struggles to keep at her feet, blood foaming in her mouth. She knows what must be done, even if she has tried everything to win this fight cleanly. She takes a deep breath and waits for the beast to strike.

The beast leaps forward, pouncing as Domitia stands her ground. She dips into her Legacy, her mind fading as her body is flooded with strength-enhancing hormones. Sejanus awakens, and a smile grows across the flesh that is named Domitia. "Finally," it thinks as the maul strikes at lightning speed, the impact thundering through the empty facility. The lazarian being is sent hurtling backward, it's face plate being sent spinning upwards, embedding itself in the ceiling above.

The Artificial Monster rises just in time for the bellator to be upon it, the maul striking out again, breaking its right arm as it rises for a strike. It strikes out with its tail, but this time, the bellator catches it, and with her ion lance set to sustain, the bellator slices through the dermis and into the white flesh below. The beast strikes with its claws, only for Sejanus to pull the tail out and allow the monster to cut through its own tail. As the claw scrapes across the ground, the bellator stomps onto its hand, crushing it into the ground.

The beast's many eyes meet the uncaring gaze of the bellator, whose lance charges to the maximum as it struggles to free its last good arm. A second star bleeds into reality momentarily as the bellator finishes the beast with a lance strike through the head. For a moment, the bellator looks over the creature, tilting its head as it observes its kill before Domitia retakes control.

She feels pain and exhaustion grip her as she falls to a knee, pulling back her visor so she can better breathe. A nagging sensation scrapes at the back of her mind of how good it felt to let it all out. letting the beast take control for a little while. She felt the euphoria of being entirely disconnected from it all, save the battle playing out before her. She hardens herself and tries to feel the shaggy carpet of her childhood to keep herself tethered.

"One day it'll be gone." An old voice spoke in the back of her mind. "One day it'll be gone. And all that Domitia will be is combat data. You will always be Sejanus, always a weapon."

She inhales sharply, "No. I'm still here. I'm not going to fade—not until the stars themselves do."

Pushing through the pain, she gets to her feet, turns, and makes her way to the fountain.

----

Dell hurries down the corridor, following Thomas's blurted-out instructions.

"Down the hall, to the left!"

Dell rounds the corner as instructed, finding a sealed bulkhead ahead. He curses but runs up to the control panel beside it, Aiden and Clara taking positions to cover him. He tries activating it, only to find it buzzing out a denial - that wouldn't do.

He whips out a screwdriver from his tool belt, working it underneath the panel, and pops it off the wall. Circuits flow out of the wall behind it, a mess of black and red wires that appear to Dell like a pit of snakes. He starts to fumble through them, pulling and trying wires at random.

"Any luck?" Clara asks impatiently.

"Give me a second," Dell pulls two wires off their nodes and gives them a try shocking himself; he drops the panel, letting it fall against the wall, "Fucking bastard."

"Shit." Aiden racks the slide of his SMG, "I see one."

"You do?" Clara asks.

"Kid we don't have a lot of ammo, you gotta be sure--"

"I am," Aiden says, bringing the SMG to his shoulder.

He goes quiet as he carefully lines up a shot, and with a three-round burst, he causes something to explode in yellow gore. It falls over; whatever strange science gave it invisibility also causes the gore and blood to slowly but surely fade away. Aiden chuckles, raising the gun up and putting the safety back on.

"Not bad, kid..." Dell says as he gets back to work on the panel.

"Good shot, for a greenhorn." Clara smiles, giving Aiden a knock on the arm.

"Thanks," Aiden says, now standing a little bit taller.

At last, Dell finds the right wires, the bulkhead opening smoothly and letting out a barely audible click as it fully reveals the hanger bay. It's dark, but as the crew steps in, the lights flip on, revealing a great cylinder filled with ships of all kinds and all classes. Dell starts to get a little greedy, thinking over how much cash he could make just selling these beauties. His eyes drift from the luxury yachts and runabouts to the immense cargo freighters and patrol craft. He settles on the nearest patrol craft, a Millian Arms Void Rover. The ship looks like a dagger, with most of its weapons housed in weapon holds, probably to help it navigate the nasty storms this planet can kick up.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

"Guys..."

Dell snaps out of it as he looks over to Aiden, his eyes wide, the confidence gone. It only takes a moment to realize what Aiden is seeing.

"How many?" Clara barely whispers.

"Too many," Aiden settles, sweeping with his hand. "Most of them are over there."

He points out that most of the right side of the hanger, and as Dell squints his eyes, he can vaguely make out a strange haze in reality.

"What do we do?"

"We're gonna book it." Dell points out the Void Rover. That boat will get us out of here." He looks back at the two energy farmers. "Stick close. This'll be tight."

They first try to move stealthily, controlling their footfalls as they rush toward the Void Rover. The haze begins to move, the creatures detecting their presence and starting to close in on them. It doesn't matter if they're seeing one another, the crew realizes; the mass of them will swallow them into nothingness.

Desperately, Aiden and Clara begin to fire their SMGs, giving Dell cover as he rushes to the ship. He finds the door, and hoping against all odds that the last idiot to touch it didn't lock it, he flips open the door panel and presses the button to open it. With a snap-hiss, the door opens, and he thanks whatever deity blessed him.

"Come on!" Dell motions for them to get aboard.

Aiden and Clara are emptying their SMGs, but in the frenzy to get aboard, Aiden slips on discarded casings. He starts to get up, but Clara pulls him up and pushes him away. He sprints to the door, turning to ensure Clara is still there, only to be met with nothing. He swears and dives in, Dell quickly closing the door.

"I fucked up!" Aiden curses, punching the metal wall and eliciting a loud clang.

"She saved your fucking life, don't live it in vain!" Dell motions, "Come on, I know what'll cheer you up."

"What? The fuck you mean?"

Dell hurries to the cockpit, snapping a few times, and points to the seat below him. Aiden hops in as Dell begins to power up the ship. The Void Rover comes to life, Dell brushes off the layer of dust on the screen with a hand to get a better look. He begins to lift off, and the ship starts to hover as Dell gets used to the controls.

"What are we doing?" Aiden turns around to look at Dell, "We can't leave!"

"Leaving? Who said anything about leaving," Dell chuckles as he turns on the weapon systems. "We got a whole bunch of invisible bastards down there that need a good ass kicking. And just like I thought, weapons are still fully armed and ready." He looks past his console at Aiden with a grin, "Well, you're in the nose gunner's seat. How about you do the honors."

Aiden turns back to the console before him. Taking a hold of the joystick, he begins to move it around and gets a feel for how the gun moves. He then moves his thumb over the red button at the tip of the stick and unleashes ion-generated hellfire upon the bastards.

----

The path to the executive hall winds through darkened halls, the only lights along the way illuminating paintings and portraits of places and people that were probably important. Thomas didn't know and didn't really care either; he needed to get into the Director's Office.

Fortune seems to favor them. The few drones they come across have been deactivated, and they stand idle, slumped forward, awaiting commands from people who have been long dead. Thomas is the first to step back onto the carpet, his head on the swivel, looking for the head office. A cube farm stretches out before him in the dim light. Straight through it lies the doorway into the Director's Office, the door slightly ajar, the lights in it dark.

"Something doesn't feel right..." Sisco muses.

Thomas looks over to Sisco, who has a puzzled look on his face. It's enough for Thomas to pause momentarily and take stock of the situation. They got here way too quickly, and the security measures they ran into had already been deactivated. Something is off, but the since of urgency is making it difficult to parse out exactly what that is. It's about then that Thomas picks up on something in the air—something had burned recently.

"Keep on your toes," Lopez motions forward, down at the office, "That it?"

Thomas rechecks his deck, "Yes... Yes. That's it, I'm sure of it."

"Let's get going then."

The trio advance cautiously down the hall. Thomas loops the strap of his SMG around the back of his neck so he can better hold it as he goes. He blinks, his cyber eyes highlighting spots where EMF fields are high, automatically filtering out lights and other miscellaneous electronics and honing in on the office itself.

They push the door open, passing by the frosted glass, the room resembling something more akin to a living room than an actual office. A great red painting dominates one side of it, rising to nearly the ceiling. To the right of it, a zen garden occupies the corner, the tools for maintaining it neatly packed away on a rack against the wall. To the left of the painting is a desk with a pair of chairs in front of it, clearly the boss's perch. A sitting area in another corner, a pair of comfy-looking chairs facing toward a couch, and a coffee table between them. Thomas denotes that the cup on that table still had moisture on it.

His attention settles on the painting, finding a strong reading behind it. Thomas looks it over as Sisco and Lopez clear the room. The net-head cocks his head back and forth, he knows the painting is hiding what might be a safe or a terminal, yet he doesn't see any hinges or any way to 'open' it.

"Something's behind the painting." Thomas announces, "Probably our best bet."

"Right..." Lopez motions at Sisco, "See if you can make heads or tails of that."

"Not a problem." Sisco holsters his SMG and walks towards the painting.

"Thomas can--"

A sharp crack thunders through the office, and Lopez is sent spiraling away, blood splattering on the floor. Two more cracks and Sisco is sent to the ground wheezing as blood foams in his mouth. Thomas turns to face the gunman, only to be smacked in the face by a pistol. The strap around his neck pulls tight as his SMG slips from his grasp and into an unseen man. It tightens around his throat as he feels the barrel of a gun press against his head.

"Do as I say, and I won't kill you." The cold, Euro-accented voice of Klyde whispers in Thomas' ear as the SMG is tossed away.

Thomas moves forward, feeling Kylde pushing him toward the painting, "You... We thought you died." The net-head sees Sisco trying to breathe as blood pours from his open throat.

"That was the point," Klyde pauses, grabbing Thomas by the collar of his suit. Apologies, friend." Sisco's head then splits like a melon smashed by a hammer, blood, brain, and cyberware scattering across the zen garden.

"Can I ask why?" Thomas asks a question he already knows the answer to.

"My employer was very specific, no witnesses. Too messy that way." Klyde explains, "It was never anything personal."

"I know the game," Thomas adds, "Take it you just need me to open the safe for you?"

"It's like you say," Klyde clicks something, and the painting begins to slide down, revealing a wall safe behind it, "'I know the game,' and if you're telling the truth, you know to play your part, and you'll get to live."

That was a lie, and Thomas knows it. He approaches the safe, trying to figure out a way out of this, some means of escape, but he's only reaching dead ends. Looking over the safe, he curses, realizing that it's a traditional key lock paired with a biometric scanner. He'll need to crack that, and if he can do that, maybe he can find a way out of this mess. He slowly turns his head, finding Klyde in the corner of his eye. Gone was the work suit, now he wore an armored body glove.

"I need to access my deck. Can I do that?"

"Of course. Move slowly."

Thomas grabs the port to his deck and searches for an access point. He has to pop one of the safe panels off before finding a debugger port and slicing in there. His vision fills with data, and his body stiffens as he starts his descent. The real world becomes dull and eventually fades as the digital world takes hold.

Every net-head sees code differently: The idiosyncrasy translates into the mind perceiving data differently. Some see it as simple lines on a page or perhaps stars in the sky. Thomas is rather dull, his mind translating the stream of data into books and magazines which he flips through. It's a strange sensation, picking up a book floating in a purple void, and flipping through it, already knowing what's inside, and what needs to change.

He wholesale burns the operating system containing the biometric data, which triggers the system to crash out. The library he's in smoldering a bit as he does this, but that's what he wants. The system on the fritz goes into developer mode, intended for the net-head to put out the fires and restart everything. Instead, Thomas goes for the throat, tearing through tomes until he finds the hardware controls. He opens the book and, with a thought, rewrites the code to remain unlocked until user input. He blinks again, and he's back in reality, already dismissing the sense of vertigo.

"Well?" Klyde pushes the gun into Thomas' head, "Are we done?"

"Second lock, I'll need to pick it." Thomas doesn't look around this time, "You mind if I reach for my tools."

"Not to worry, I'll do that for you," Klyde answers, "Which pocket?"

"Third pouch on the right," Thomas feels Kylde's hand slip into the pouch, producing his lock-picking kit. The net-head slowly reaches down and takes it. Thanks."

"My pleasure."

Thomas carefully pulls the pins he needs out, placing the tool kit back into Klyde's hand. He starts his work, slowly slipping the first one through to get a feel for it. It's complicated, but he thinks he's got a good feel for it. He hoped someone on the crew heard those gunshots, although they were spread out, and the bellator was fighting that... thing. Thomas needs to buy time, so he asks an obvious question.

"How did you even make it here? Those... things are everywhere."

"Faraday cage," Klyde explains, "Basic augment, helps against nosey net-heads like you, and also keeps psychic phenomena from clouding your mind."

It then hits Thomas, "You could see them?"

"And they couldn't see me," Klyde says, with a bit of mirth, "Funny, only Aiden was able to really see them. Might wanna get his head checked, if he's even alive at the end of this."

"Son of a bitch..." Thomas growls, trying to control his anger so he can give the illusion of picking the lock, "You knew this whole fucking time. Never even thought to help."

"Truth be told, you only made it this far cause of the bellator," Klyde says, "The Revenants know an apex predator when they see one. Might bring her Legacy with me if there's anything left of her."

"You'll be lucky if she doesn't turn you into a paste." Thomas grimly remarks.

"Knowing what was in that fountain, I highly doubt it."

Thomas' eyes flick back, mostly out of spite of the corpo spy, but something else catches his eye. A light, a small one, wirelessly accessible as well. He smiles as he realizes it's just at the right angle to shine into someone's eye. And to top it all off, no security on it. He looks back to the lock, already planting the seed of a plan, and as he clicks the lock open, he mentally adjusts the light's angle, careful not to turn it on.

"Are you in?" Klyde asks.

"Yeah," Thomas answers.

"Open it then, then step away."

Thomas does just that. He turns the lever and begins to pull it open, and just as he steps away he turns the light on to max brightness. The bulb fills the room with white light for a second before it shatters. It's enough for Thomas to spin around and slam his cyberdeck across Klyde's face. The spy recoils but the net-head follows, falling onto the spy and struggling for his pistol.

Thomas goes for a punch, but Klyde catches it and flips Thomas over. The spy gets on top of him, smashing the net-head across the face with the back of the pistol. Thomas feels blood pour from his nose; he looks up, seeing the barrel pointed right at him. Klyde looks down at him, cold indifference in his eyes.

"Well, guess that's that then. Give my regards to Sisco and Lopez--"

A burst of SMG fire rips through the spy who falls over, limp. Thomas looks over, seeing Lopez on his belly, a hand pressed against a bleed wound, the other holding his SMG. Thomas rushes over, but Lopez waves him off as he gets up on his own. He motions to the vault, Thomas rushing over, finding a keycard in a velvet black envelope. The net-head shakes the prize in hand the Marine nodding.

"Fuck." Lopez curses as he stands shakily, "Should've known." He reaches for his belt, pulling out a med-stim. He takes the cap off with his teeth and cocks his head, planting the needle into his neck with a grunt.

"Boss, to be fair, I don't think you could've seen that coming," Thomas says with a chuckle.

"Doesn't matter now," Lopez says, "Stim will keep me going long enough to get through this." He motions to Sisco, "Grab his badge. It's about all we can take back for his family."