The factory groaned with mechanical life, its low hum reverberating like the pulse of some dormant giant. The air hung thick and acrid, tinged with oil, chemicals, and something metallic that stung the back of the throat. Every step felt like a descent deeper into a living machine, shifting and bending to trap them.
Tempo trailed behind Greg and Cora, his side throbbing from Remnant’s earlier blow. He clutched his baton tightly, his breathing shallow as he tried to steady his nerves.
“You good back there, kid?” Greg asked, his tone casual but his eyes sharp as he glanced over his shoulder.
Tempo forced a grin. “I’m great. Just peachy.”
Greg gave a faint smirk but didn’t push further. His gaze lingered on Tempo for a moment before turning forward. The team pressed on, each step echoed faintly in the hollow corridors.
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The deeper they ventured, the more alive the factory seemed. Conveyor belts hissed as they carried glowing canisters through shadowed assembly lines, the faint clicks of unseen mechanisms blending with the rhythmic hum. The walls were lined with flickering monitors, displaying distorted images of faces—human, augmented, and horrifyingly incomplete.
“This place doesn’t just make things,” Cora muttered, her voice low. “It consumes. The design is a trap—every hallway pulls us deeper, and there’s no clear way out.”
“Classic evil lair,” Greg quipped, though his tone carried an edge of tension. “All we’re missing is the giant blinking sign that says ‘Welcome to Your Doom.’”
Tempo chuckled nervously, his eyes darting to every shadow. “Yeah, just your everyday stroll through a nightmare factory. No big deal.”
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They entered a cavernous chamber. Rows of drones hung from the ceiling like metallic bats, their sleek bodies glinting faintly under the red-tinged lights. Conveyor belts below carried glowing canisters toward a towering central machine that whirred with mechanical menace.
Cora stopped, her sharp gaze locking onto the canisters. “Enhancement drugs,” she said quietly.
Tempo frowned, his voice uneasy. “For the enforcers?”
“Or anyone desperate enough to use them,” Cora replied, her tone icy. “They sell these for funding. A few hours of power in exchange for psychosis, organ failure, or death. The Syndicate’s willing to burn through people to make a profit.”
Greg leaned on his pipe, staring at the canisters. “And this is just one room. What else are they cooking up in here?”
Cora didn’t answer. Her focus shifted to a console near the towering machine, the faint glow of its screen catching her attention. “If I can access that terminal, I might be able to pull something useful. Keep watch.”
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The team moved cautiously, weaving between the canisters. Tempo’s grip tightened on his baton as he glanced upward. The drones above hung in eerie stillness, their eyes dark and empty. But the faint hum of electricity hinted that they weren’t fully dormant.
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Cora knelt at the console, her fingers flying across the keys. “Just a few minutes,” she murmured. “Stay alert.”
Greg hefted his pipe, scanning the room. “Alert for what, exactly?”
Tempo gave a weak laugh. “Does it matter? It’s always something.”
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The room shuddered suddenly, the vibrations rippling through the floor like the growl of a waking beast. Above, the drones twitched in unison, their red eyes flaring to life.
“Here we go,” Greg muttered, stepping forward.
The drones descended, their limbs moving with an unsettling fluidity, their joints clicking faintly. A faint whispering accompanied them—distorted, garbled voices, like echoes of a language long forgotten.
Tempo darted forward, his baton crackling as it struck the nearest drone. Sparks flew as the machine crumpled, but two more rose to take its place.
“Watch your right!” Greg shouted, smashing another drone midair.
“I see it!” Tempo yelled, though his movements were increasingly erratic.
Cora’s attention remained locked on the terminal, but her fingers faltered briefly as a name appeared on the screen: Sylvia.
Her breath hitched. Memories surged unbidden—Sylvia’s bright laughter, the way she’d said, “We’ll make it out together,” her determined eyes glowing with hope.
“Cora!” Greg’s voice snapped her back to reality. A drone lunged toward her, its claws glinting under the red light.
Greg’s pipe struck true, sending the drone crashing to the ground. “You good?”
Cora nodded quickly, forcing her hands to steady. “Just... keep them off me.”
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Tempo’s frustration boiled over as the swarm intensified. Every swing felt heavier, every step slower. The whispers seemed louder, merging with the memory of his mother’s voice—pleading for help, screaming as she was taken.
“Not again!” he growled, activating his second power.
In a blur of motion, Tempo darted through the swarm, his baton striking with blinding speed. Drones crumpled in rapid succession, their metal shells sparking and shattering.
But the burst of speed drained him. Tempo stumbled, his vision swimming as the power faded. A drone’s claw lashed out, catching him in the side and sending him sprawling.
“Tempo!” Greg yelled, rushing to his side. He swung his pipe, smashing the drone back before hauling Tempo upright.
“I’m fine,” Tempo mumbled, though his legs trembled.
“No, you’re not,” Greg muttered, half-carrying him toward the exit. “Cora, how much longer?”
The terminal beeped, and Cora pulled a drive from the console. “I’ve got what I can. We need to move—now!”
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As the team made their way toward the exit, the room shuddered violently. A deep, guttural growl echoed from the shadows, reverberating like a distant drum.
From the far end of the chamber, a twisted figure emerged. Its frame was a grotesque fusion of flesh and metal, its clawed hands twitching with jerky precision.
“...Intruders...” it growled, its voice fractured and inhuman. “...Will... not... escape...”
Greg exhaled sharply, his grip tightening on his pipe. “And here I thought the drones were bad.”
The creature’s glowing red eyes locked onto them, its movements unsettlingly deliberate as it stepped closer.
“...You... were... expected...”
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To Be Continued...