Dr. Koslova's absence weighed heavily in the atmosphere. The scientist had been urgently summoned to the base less than an hour ago. A group of newly arrived refugees showed signs of a strange illness, possibly related to alien technology. Koslova's expertise in biotechnology was crucial to understanding and potentially countering this new threat.

"Her absence complicates things for us," thought Amelia, aware that the doctor's expertise would have been invaluable in interpreting what they found in the convoy. However, the mission couldn't wait.

The convoy turned sharply at the intersection of Steel Avenue and Steam Street. Amelia gritted her teeth, holding back a curse. A greenish wake was left behind the vehicles, twisting the very air in their path.

"Damn it," she growled, hitting the communicator on her wrist. "Wrench, do you copy?"

Ernest's voice crackled:

"Loud and clear, Gear. What's up?"

"The convoy changed route. They're heading to the Red Zone."

There was a moment of tense silence before Ernest responded:

"Damn. That complicates things. Can you follow them?"

Amelia scanned the horizon. Alien watchtowers dotted the ruined urban landscape, their blinking eyes of a sickly red sweeping the streets.

"Negative," Amelia frowned, observing the turrets scanning the streets. "Too many turrets and Fly Eye drones. We need to regroup."

There was a pause on the line. When Ernest spoke again, his voice betrayed a mixture of frustration and determination.

"Understood. Meet us at rendezvous point Bravo. Don't do anything stupid, you hear me? Over and out."

Amelia slid down the rusty fire escape, her mechanical arm hissing and automatically adjusting to the additional weight. The streets, once bustling with the roar of diesel engines and the rattling of trams, were now a maze of debris and abandoned vehicles. The air was heavy with the acrid smell of burnt fuel and overheated metal. She moved between the shadows, avoiding the puddles of phosphorescent liquid dripping from infected sewers. The acrid aroma of ozone and burnt metal permeated the air.

Fifteen minutes later, Amelia reached the meeting point: an old modified school bus, camouflaged among the remains of a junkyard. Welded metal plates and improvised antennas protruded from the roof.

The interior of the bus revealed an improvised mobile command center. Flickering screens and three-dimensional maps covered the walls. Ernest "The Wrench" Torquemada was leaning over a console, his grease-stained hands working frantically on a half-assembled device.

"Welcome to the circus, Gear," he greeted without looking up. "Things have gotten interesting."

Amelia removed her helmet, revealing her messy brown hair with electric blue streaks.

"Define 'interesting' for me, Wrench."

Ernest straightened up, running a hand through his goatee.

"Well, besides the convoy's route change, we have reports that the Hounds are conducting raids in Sector 7. They're dangerously close."

Marina was manipulating a three-dimensional map of the city, her fiery red hair tied back in a tight ponytail. Javier was methodically cleaning his sniper rifle, his face partially hidden by a tactical scarf.

Amelia studied the map, her green eyes shining with determination.

"I maintain that we should stick to the original plan," she said, pointing to the Rusty Bridge. "We already have the charges placed."

"Too risky," Ernest interrupted, shaking his head. "With the convoy in the Red Zone, we'd be exposed. I propose using the underground tunnels."

Javier raised an eyebrow.

"The ones you helped build during the occupation? They could be compromised."

"It's a risk we'll have to take," Ernest replied, his eyes shining with barely contained enthusiasm. "Besides, I know those tunnels like the back of my hand."

A distant explosion interrupted the discussion. Everyone tensed, hands instinctively moving towards their weapons.

"The Hounds," Marina murmured, her fingers dancing over a data screen. "They've entered Sector 6. They'll be here soon."

Amelia closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, her gaze was hard.

"We'll use the tunnels," she decided. "Ernest, prepare the equipment for underground conditions. Marina, hack whatever you can from alien communications. Javier, secure an alternative escape route. We leave in ten minutes."

The maintenance tunnel reeked of mold and rancid oil. Amelia led the march, her mechanical arm emitting a faint blue glow that barely illuminated the way. Behind, Ernest carried a backpack full of tools and devices, while Marina and Javier covered the rear.

As they approached the perimeter of the Red Zone, the air became denser. Static electricity made the hair on the back of their necks stand up. Suddenly, Amelia's arm emitted a spark and jammed with a metallic growl.

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"Damn it," she muttered, hitting the articulated elbow.

Ernest stepped forward, pulling out a modified frequency scanner from his belt. The screen flickered erratically.

"It's not just you, Gear," he said, frowning. "All our equipment is acting weird."

Marina's communicator emitted a sharp squeal before shutting off. The holographic sight of Javier's rifle distorted into a mass of useless pixels.

"What the hell is going on, Wrench?" asked Amelia, feeling a knot in her stomach.

Ernest manipulated the controls of his scanner, his face illuminated by the greenish glow of the screen.

"It's like there's some kind of technology suppression field," he muttered. "But I've never seen anything like it. It's... organic, almost alive."

"Do you think it has to do with the convoy's cargo?" asked Marina, her voice tinged with concern.

"It's possible," Ernest replied, putting away the scanner. "Whatever it is, it's messing with all our equipment. We'll have to go old school."

Amelia flexed her mechanical arm, feeling the resistance in the joints.

"Can you fix it?"

Ernest shook his head.

"Not here, not now. We'll have to improvise."

Javier, who had been watching the tunnel, approached the group.

"Hate to interrupt, but we've got company," he whispered, pointing ahead.

In the gloom, shadowy figures moved. The flash of an official emblem briefly shone: the New Order Brigade.

"Collaborators," Amelia spat. "Prepare for combat. And remember, without tech, this is going to be old school."

The echo of boots on metal resonated through the tunnel. Amelia held her breath, her hand gripping a modified revolver. Beside her, Javier silently adjusted the sight of his rifle.

Five figures emerged from the gloom, dressed in black and gold uniforms of the New Order Brigade. Their faces, partially covered by breathing masks, glowed with a faint greenish light.

"Halt!" barked the leader, a tall woman with silver hair. "You're in restricted territory. Identify yourselves or you'll be..."

The roar of a shot interrupted her words. Javier had seized the moment, taking down the nearest collaborator.

The tunnel erupted into chaos.

Amelia rolled behind a pile of debris, narrowly dodging a burst of alien energy. Her mechanical arm sparked, the servomotors growling in protest. She used it as an improvised shield while returning fire.

Ernest, sheltered behind a maintenance console, threw a homemade grenade. The explosion illuminated the tunnel with a blue glow, momentarily disorganizing the enemies.

"Marina, we need an exit!" Amelia shouted above the din.

The redhead nodded, her fingers flying over a nearby control panel. Sparks flew as she forced the circuits.

Amelia launched forward, taking advantage of the confusion. Her mechanical arm, though damaged, still retained its superhuman strength. She connected a punch that sent a collaborator flying against the wall.

Turning to face the next opponent, Amelia froze. The face looking at her from behind the mask was painfully familiar.

"Diego?" she whispered, disbelief tinging her voice.

Diego Fierro, a former resistance comrade, now wore the Brigade uniform. His eyes, once warm, now shone with an alien glow.

"Amelia," he replied, his voice distorted by the mask. "I knew you'd come. There's still time for you to join us. To see the truth."

Amelia felt the world tilt beneath her feet.

"What did they do to you?" she asked, her voice breaking.

Diego extended a hand, the skin pulsing with subcutaneous alien circuits.

"They opened my eyes, Amelia. They're saving us. Evolving us. Join..."

The impact of a bullet interrupted his words. Diego collapsed, a smoking hole in his chest. Javier lowered his rifle, his face a mask of determination.

"It was him or us, Gear," he said simply.

Amelia nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat.

"I've got it!" Marina shouted from the control panel. A hidden door slid open, revealing a dark passage. "Let's go!"

The team retreated, Ernest covering the rear with a final grenade. As they ran through the new tunnel, Amelia couldn't help but look back, the image of Diego burned into her mind.

The secret passage led to an abandoned control room. Cracked screens and dust-covered consoles filled the space. The air hummed with static electricity and the distant echo of forgotten machinery.

Amelia leaned against a wall, her breathing ragged. The encounter with Diego had shaken her foundations. Ernest, noticing her distress, approached and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey, Gear," he said softly. "I know he was your friend, but it wasn't him anymore. The aliens..."

"I know," Amelia interrupted, straightening up. "It's not the time for sentimentality. We have a mission to accomplish."

Marina was already working on one of the consoles, her fingers flying over the keyboard.

"I think I can access some convoy data from here," she muttered, not taking her eyes off the screen. "The system is corrupted, but there are still recoverable fragments."

Javier stood guard at the entrance, his rifle ready.

"Hurry up," he urged. "We don't know how long we have before they send reinforcements."

Amelia approached the console, watching as lines of alien code mixed with human symbols on the screen. Her mechanical arm emitted a low hum, as if resonating with the alien technology.

Suddenly, a series of images flickered on the screen. They were blurry, distorted, but unmistakably human. Figures floating in stasis tanks, their bodies partially transformed by alien technology.

"My God," Marina whispered. "It's not technology. They're... people."

Amelia's stomach twisted. Her hands trembled as she scrolled through image after image, each face frozen in time a stab of guilt and determination. And then, the world seemed to stop. There, staring at her from the screen with empty eyes, was him. Her breath caught, and for a moment, she forgot how to move, how to think.

"Luciano," the name escaped her lips like a prayer and a curse.

Ernest approached, his eyes wide open.

"You know him?"

Amelia nodded, unable to look away from the image.

"He's my ex-husband. I thought... I thought he had died in the first attack."

The silence that followed was heavy, laden with implications. If Luciano was alive, how many more of the missing could be in those tanks?

The sound of a distant explosion shook the room, bringing everyone back to reality.

"We have to move," Javier urged from the door. "More are coming."

Marina quickly disconnected her device from the console, saving all the information she could.

"This changes everything," she said, looking at Amelia. "What do we do now?"

Amelia closed her eyes for a moment, her mind a whirlwind of emotions and strategies. When she opened them, her gaze was hard.

"We stick to the mission," Amelia declared, her voice firm but with a hint of urgency. "But now we're not just going to stop that convoy. We're going to save it."

The team nodded, renewed determination on their faces. As they prepared to leave, Amelia took one last look at Luciano's image on the screen. Her fingers gently brushed the monitor, as if she could touch him through time and space.

"I'll find you," she silently promised, her green eyes shining with a mixture of determination and pain. "And I'll find out what the hell is going on here."

With that promise burning in her heart, Amelia Rotorblade adjusted her mechanical arm and headed for the exit. The metal creaked with every movement, a constant reminder of her own transformation in this invaded world.

"Let's go," she ordered, her voice cutting through the tense silence. "We have a convoy to intercept and people to save."

As the team moved towards the depths of the Red Zone, the hum of alien drones grew in the distance. Amelia led the way, her silhouette outlined against the flickering lights of alien technology. Each step took them deeper into enemy territory, and closer to the answers they sought.