DAIMON

Walls crumbling. Alarm sirens blaring. Chunks of concrete falling and bouncing. Fine, densely packed motes of hundred-year-old concrete dust glittering in the light of the setting sun, until the wind rushes in through the gap, scattering them.

How long has it been since the light of the outside world touched this place? Since a cool, natural breeze graced these halls? Not since this place was turned into the bunker it is now, surely.

Not that it matters to me. I'm here to deconstruct. Excavate. Unearth.

And to destroy, generally speaking. That is the one thing I seem to be good for, after all.

I jump, up onto the rocky pile of rubble that used to be a wall. A harsh wind rushes through my hair and pushes against my airborne frame, slightly altering my trajectory. I land on my feet at the mouth of the opening. At this point, I can calculate the width of the wall itself. About five feet. Some of the bits of rubble are pretty hefty, cracked and knocked away by the impact. Then there are the smaller bits of debris and particulates, shattered and vaporized by my Blast Protocol tech. Lengths of rebar poke up out of the large chunks at odd angles, like the legs of dead spiders.

The interior is dim compared to the outside world, even with the sun about to set, a dark orange orb on the horizon. Not that there's a whole lot to look at, anyway. Appears to be some kind of shipping bay; or at least, it used to be. Before the doorway here must have been shored up and blocked off, reinforced with concrete.

The walls, floors and ceiling are grey concrete. It's a big space, with lots of crates, and a couple shipping containers. There's a big crane in the corner, likely used to move cargo at one point. I can't imagine these people have much use for the machine, now. But there it is. A towering relic of a bygone era.

I hop off the pile of rubble and into the bay itself.

I can't detect any lifeforms in the room. Which means these people have at least some sense, then.

That alarm, though.

I pull my sidearm, a black handgun holstered at my lower back, and aim at the speaker up in the far corner. I fire one shot.

Sparks fly. The siren warbles. And the alarm sound dies away.

That's better.

I step forward, toward the middle of the room, scanning for cameras. So far, I only see two-

My scanners suddenly pick up something. Electronic activity, beneath a concrete slab under my feet.

Huh, I manage to think, before the explosion hits.

The impact is instantaneous, enveloping me. A giant ball of flame, passing through and around my body. A sound like a hundred bolts of lightning in my ears. Bits of concrete detritus pinging into and off of my metal armor plates like bullets. Big clouds of dust and debris whirl up, past and above. Some of it falls, and some of it lingers in the air in thick, dusty clusters, until a breeze rushes in through the hole in the wall again, and the dust dissipates.

I'm airborne, for a fraction of a second. I adjust myself in the air, landing on my feet with little impact. It's really not even much of an inconvenience. I've made many adjustments to my body over the years, and not for nothing. My defense systems are above average, to say the least. It's going to take more than a slap-dash IED to make me flinch. I run a quick diagnostics check just in case. According to the system, there's no discernible damage.

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One big, fractured slab of concrete flips as it arcs through the air, before glancing off the ceiling and crashing to the floor, smashing apart like a block of ice, cracks spreading out in the floor at the point of impact.

About a second has passed since the initial explosion. The massive sound waves are followed by an eerie, near-complete silence. Not even a ringing in the ears for me. Except for the hole in the floor, and the surrounding mess from the bomb, everything is as it was only a moment before. Even the sidearm in my hand appears undamaged.

I guess I have to admit that, from their perspective, it was worth a shot. They believed I would break in through the west wall, breaching through the weakest section of the bunker. It's because they think all Biodroids operate logically, like the robots in the old movies, but in this case the hunch was correct. They might not have planned on my being directly above the wide stone slab, but they knew I would be nearby. They got lucky when I walked straight across it.

Well, not really. Unlucky was more like it.

Where was I?

I aim for the cameras. One shot. Two. Disabling the surveillance in the room. It's really just a habitual thing, though. I doubt it's necessary, at this p-

There's a loud crack, like a gunshot, and something shoots toward me, flying from the far corner of the bay.

I catch it before it strikes my armor. It's some kind of remote taser.

It goes off in my hand, shooting arcs of electricity that course down my arm, toward my shoulder and chest.

Can't even feel it. My shield systems are more than sufficient to hold off the attack.

The air crackles, and several more tasers zip toward me, originating from various parts along the north end of the bay.

I don't need to bother with dodging or catching any of them. A couple of them fly past me. Three of them hit, sticking to my chest and shoulders by means of an adhesive on the end of each device. They activate, zapping and sparking.

Kinda tickles.

My shield system is forced to dip into its energy reserve to ward off the electrical damage. A little bit. Honestly, if the needle's moved at all, I can't tell.

I swat away the tasers, knocking them to the floor.

Gunshots. Rapid bursts coming at me from various angles.

Some of the bullets hit, glancing off my armor ineffectually. Standing still, I raise my sidearm, preparing to return fire. Only, I can't see my enemies. I can see the general areas where the gunfire is coming, thanks to muzzle flashes and the bright streaks of concentrated fire, pulsing in the air. But I can't see the bodies themselves. Not even my thermal sensors can pick them up.

Well, well. Advanced stealth tech. This place is full of surprises.

I use my OS to ready a medium-range electromagnetic pulse. It's not the type of trick I could use against another Biodroid with much success, but it'll do against most types of man-made tech.

I fire the EMP. The pulse itself is invisible, a wave that shoots out ahead of me in a focused cone shape, hitting every one of the invisible assailants.

The effect is immediate. Several of the underground bunker's watch dogs, wearing camo fatigues and oxygen masks, pop into existence, fanned out in the north half of the room.

They're caught, all of them, out in the open. And they know it, because they immediately rush to better cover, firing their rifles as they go.

I return fire. Quick shots to the head.

They drop, one after another, as if hitting an invisible pole, ribbons of blood flying out the back of their skulls and landing on smooth concrete in loud, wet splats. My guidance systems are good enough to hit the brain with ninety-nine percent accuracy, especially when there's no extenuating circumstances to hinder me.

One of them manages to lob a grenade. I follow up a shot to his head with a shot to the airborne grenade itself. It explodes in a shower of pellet shrapnel, peppering the two other soldiers in the vicinity, leaving them with a hundred bleeding holes.

Five downed guards. Nine bullets expended total. Plenty left in the extended mag for now, and I have a couple more mags besides. Even if I had the capacity, I wouldn't use up Nanobits to generate sidearm ammunition. I tend to reserve my resources for other things. And let's face it, as convenient as bullets are, in a situation like this, my fists would work just as well.

Moving casually, letting my radial detection scanners run in the backward, I stride forward toward the open door in the northern edge of the room.

There's no point in putting it off any longer. It's time.