The factory was a hulking, metallic skeleton against the haze of Neo-Vespera’s skyline, its surface dull and unassuming. From a distance, it looked abandoned, like a forgotten relic of a better time. Yet, as the team crouched in the shadows of a nearby structure, the oppressive air around it told a different story.
Greg rubbed his neck, squinting at the building. “This is what we came all the way out here for? Looks like it’s been dead for years.”
Cora shook her head, her voice low but steady. “That’s what they want you to think. It’s a facade. Inside, it’s alive—and dangerous.” She adjusted her earpiece, a faint holographic map flickering to life from her wrist device. “We go in quiet. This is recon only. No unnecessary risks, no flashy heroics.”
Greg shot a glance at Tempo, who was gripping a baton like it was a prized possession. “Hear that, kid? No blowing our cover.”
Tempo huffed. “I know, I know. Stealthy as a ninja. Got it.”
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The team slipped through a breach in the outer wall, navigating through a maze of rusted scaffolding and debris. At first, the factory seemed lifeless. Dust hung in the air, and the faint hum of machinery was barely audible over their footsteps.
Greg kept his voice low. “Looks pretty dead to me. Maybe your intel’s off.”
Cora shot him a sharp look. “Trust me, it’s not.”
As they moved deeper, the air grew colder, and the faint hum grew louder. The team froze as they rounded a corner and saw the first signs of activity: sleek drones hovering silently in formation, their red eyes scanning the corridor.
Cora motioned for them to stop. “Automated patrols. Blink, disable them.”
Her small robotic assistant scuttled forward, its mechanical legs clicking softly. A faint blue light flickered as it approached the nearest drone, sending out a pulse that caused the machines to shudder and power down.
Tempo grinned. “Nice. Looks like we’re off to a good start.”
“Don’t jinx it,” Greg muttered.
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They continued down the corridor, stepping over cables and ducking under pipes. The oppressive design of the factory became more apparent with every step. Massive machines lined the walls, their mechanical arms moving with eerie precision as they assembled components the team couldn’t identify.
Cora paused briefly, her sharp eyes scanning the route ahead. “Something’s off,” she murmured, mostly to herself. “The patrols are too precise. It’s like... they’re herding us.”
Greg frowned but didn’t comment, his grip tightening on the pipe he carried.
The deeper they went, the more unsettling it became. Augmentation chambers lined one wall, each holding a motionless figure suspended in a glowing liquid. Some chambers were empty, their glass cracked or fogged over. Others contained grotesque shapes, their twisted limbs and features frozen in silent agony.
Tempo froze in his tracks, his face pale. His grip on the baton tightened as he stared at the lifeless figures in the chambers. The faces in the pods blurred, replaced by a memory: his mother’s hands reaching out as the Syndicate tore her away. If this is what they did to these people… what did they do to her? The baton trembled in his grip. I can’t let this happen again.
“What… what is this place?”
Greg’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the chambers. “Looks like the Syndicate’s idea of home improvement.”
But the tension in his voice betrayed his usual humor. He turned to Tempo, his tone uncharacteristically serious. “Don’t look too hard, kid. It’ll stick in your head if you let it.”
Tempo swallowed hard but couldn’t tear his gaze away. “How can people do this to each other?”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Cora stepped between them, her voice sharp but tight. “Focus. If you lose your head now, we won’t make it out. Keep moving.”
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The team encountered their first trap in a narrow corridor. A faint clicking sound echoed, followed by a sharp hiss as lasers crisscrossed the path ahead. Blink scuttled forward, working to disable the grid, but not before Tempo shifted his weight too far forward and triggered a motion sensor.
A shrill alarm blared, and a panel in the ceiling opened, releasing a swarm of small, spider-like drones.
“Great job, ninja,” Greg said dryly, already moving.
The drones swarmed, their metallic legs skittering across the floor. Tempo swung his baton wildly, each metallic clash ringing in his ears.
Greg smashed another drone with a loose pipe, his eyes scanning the room. “Tempo, on my left!”
Tempo spun, his baton connecting with two drones just as Greg smashed another. A sharp metallic claw grazed Greg’s sleeve, ripping the fabric as he barely dodged. “This is getting old fast,” he muttered, smashing the drone before it could lunge again.
“Tempo, get down!” Greg barked, swinging his pipe at a tangle of sparking wires. Sparks flew as the wires dropped, tangling the drones and shorting their circuits.
Blink emitted a pulse that sent the remaining drones tumbling to the floor. The team stood in the aftermath, catching their breath.
Greg pointed at Tempo, his expression flat. “Next time, I’m letting the drones eat you.”
Tempo grinned sheepishly, though his hands trembled. “Hey, I’m still learning!” He looked down at his baton, gripping it tighter. No more excuses. If I mess up again, they could get hurt. I have to be better.
“Learn quieter,” Cora muttered, already moving ahead.
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As they continued, the team came across a large chamber filled with rows of dormant enforcers. Each one was suspended in a glass pod, their bodies augmented with gleaming machinery. A soft blue light bathed the room, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch toward them.
“This is what we’re up against,” Cora said quietly, her voice colder now. “Thousands of them. Ready to be deployed at a moment’s notice.”
Greg frowned, his usual humor absent. “And we’re supposed to stop all this? Just the three of us?”
“We’re not stopping it today,” Cora replied. “We’re here to gather intel. Focus.”
Greg’s gaze lingered on the enforcers for a moment before he turned away. “Yeah. Sure.”
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The team eventually stumbled upon a smaller, dimly lit room filled with broken machinery and discarded experiments. Among the debris, Greg’s eyes caught a faint glimmer of something unusual—a nameplate attached to a cracked chamber.
“Sylvia…” he muttered, frowning.
Cora stiffened behind him, the name hitting her like a punch. For a moment, Sylvia’s laughter echoed in her mind, bright and carefree. The cold, metallic air of the factory snapped her back to reality, and she clenched her fists tightly. “We’re wasting time. Let’s move.”
Greg glanced at her, noticing the tension in her posture, the way her hands clenched briefly before relaxing. He thought about saying something but stopped himself. Not the time. Whatever that name means to her, it’s heavy. He adjusted his grip on the pipe. Focus on getting out of here first.
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As they approached the factory’s central hub, a faint mechanical hiss filled the air. The dormant enforcers’ pods began to hum softly, the sound resonating like a heartbeat. Shadows flickered unnaturally, and a faint rattling noise echoed from deeper in the factory, as if something unseen was moving just out of reach.
An alarm blared. Red lights washed over the team, and the oppressive hum of the factory turned into a deafening roar.
Greg tightened his grip on the pipe, stepping in front of Tempo. “Looks like the fun’s just starting.”
A sharp metallic screech tore through the air, followed by heavy, uneven footsteps. The team froze as claw marks on the walls glinted in the red light. From the shadows came the sound of labored breathing—mechanical, but almost human.
The distorted silhouette jerked forward in unnatural bursts, each movement accompanied by grinding metal and wet, mechanical groans. Its glowing red eyes locked onto Tempo, and as it moved closer, he froze. The creature’s face—if it could be called that—bore the unmistakable traces of a failed augmentation chamber subject, its human features warped into something unrecognizable.
The creature screeched, its elongated limbs moving with impossible speed. It darted toward Tempo but stopped just short, its clawed hand slamming into the wall beside him. The force sent shards of metal flying, grazing Greg’s cheek as he pulled Tempo back.
From the creature’s throat came a garbled, broken voice: “...help... me... or... run...” Its voice shifted, deepening into a guttural growl. “...you... were... expected...”
“What is that thing?” Tempo whispered, his voice shaking.
Greg exhaled, his voice low. “Trouble.”
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To Be Continued...