>> The Four Gates

## News Scraper :: Returns [Connection Error] to [Polybius API] with Error Code [503 Service Unavailable]

My eyes flip open to an island of low, shadowy, light. A beacon in the dark, pooling from the laptop discarded in the centre of the coffee table. Bionic eyes fight to adjust to the dim holo-glow as mission-notes flicker across the many, many vScreens floating around me. Diagnostics drifting in one corner of my eyes, as the News Scraper searches for....

"Polybius?" My murmur stirs nothing.

I shiver, quietly. Still caught within the dregs of dreams. With echoes of wire, and barbs, and snarling-

I shunt them away, and squint. Clocking the sprawl of Demon, on the opposite sofa - flat on his back, with one leg drifted to the floor. Cushions arranged, quite carefully, so his tail falls into the gap. I shift, nervously. Rubbing an ear that got squashed in my midsleep struggles.

Unsure of anything. Unknowing of anything.

"Polybius?" I swallow. "Y'there? Hey?"

Nothing.

The News Scraper dies, having given the heck up, and I force myself to achieve some semblance of 'upright'. Focusing in on the single blue box situated exactly where Polybius was floating last night.

## Polybius Core :: [System Restart] was [TERMINATED] by [ERROR], [UNKNOWN], [ANOMALY]

## Polybius Core :: [System Failure] detected at level [CRITICAL]

That.... That is new.

Polybius doesn't have errors. Polybius doesn't crash. Polybius is unstoppable.

Except..... Suddenly, and without warning, that ain't true anymore.

What the Hell happened?

"Polybius?" I hiss into the silence. "Shit....."

No errors. No response. Nothing.

It's offline.

I swallow, quietly.

Polybius governs Security for the entire tower. If Pol is down, so is everything else - cameras, turrets, sensors. Literally everything - barring a couple of boobytraps we planted ourselves.

We could be under attack, right now, and know nothing about it.

In fact, knocking Polybius offline would be a terrific first move....

I grab a cushion, and hurl it at the opposite sofa. Demon's eyes snapping wide as claws snake out to snatch it from the air. "Za'tat?" He whispers.

"Yeah. Attack." I growl. "Or something. Pol is offline. No clue why."

In a single, smooth, motion he spins upright. Flicking one arm over the edge of the sofa, and snapping out a single word. "Armour!" His battleTek suit leaps directly off the floor. Latching onto it. Disassembling, as he stands. Slamming it into his chest. The armour locks to brassy nodes on his underlay, and unfolds over his head. A roar of sparks busting from under it as he forces it into place. Jerking, angrily, as broken sections fight to compensate.

A hard, violent, look stirs on his four-horned face.

"Armour." I snap, as well, standing abruptly. "Come to me."

Metal ticks and clicks as it leaps on my back, synching my implant as it begins to unfurl. Diagnostics roaring as I snatch up my SMG, and ram home a mag. Hurling a pistol at Demon, who spins to face the door as I leap to join him. Crouched, low, on either side of his 'bed'.

Not your typical cover in a firefight, but lemmie tell you: nobody expects the bulletproof sofa.

See, it turns out there's a heck of lotta empty space inside these things. So we picked one, took it apart. Lined it with old steel plates, broken body-armour, strike plates, whatever we could find. Filled the backrest with Kevlar. Flooded the gaps with cans and cans of ballistic repair-foam. Turned the whole thing basically solid, then stapled all the fabric back on.

Right after we stabbed 'point charges' - aka mini claymores - into the base, of course.

We only did one, and it's a holdout of desperation - but it's a bloody holdout.

And we fully intend to use it, if we have to.

"Mate! I'm online!" Zip yelps over comms, a second after my summon, as his SMG joining us from the balcony above. "Like, no drones but-" A door slams open, as our [Sniper] tumbles out of her ground-level bedroom. Groaning like the dead, and dragging her rifle. Cursing her way up the stairs, one by one, to slam it onto the rail.

"Oh.... gods.... too bloody bright....." She blinks, hard, in the dim light. "Better.... bloody not be a bloody drill....."

"It ain't." I growl, at both statements. Vowing, for maybe the tenth time, to shuffle her into a top-floor room.

If we survive.

But as the seconds fill with nothingness, I feel the cold sweat of dread turn to calculation. A few seconds after that, I lower my gun. "In the words of the immortal bloody bard." I say, slowly. "Where's the Kaboom?"

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Demon frowns at me. "Kah? What-?" A shake of his head. "Zey, we cannot be sure. Coming through walls?"

"Walls. Ceiling. It's what I'd do in an old flat...." I mutter, flicking my head to the upper floor. Badger is still asleep, judging by the lack of total chaos. One ear twists. Yep. Tufty is awake in his crate in the bathroom, and Theo.... is Theo. Which just leaves.....

Something hot and scaly belly-flops onto the back of my head, slapping it forward.

"Grem?" I yelp, as she bops at my face with rough lil paws. Giggling happily.

"Spookie-ssss!"

"Shit! Grem! No playtime! No! Go... go secure the vents!" I yell, gesturing furiously.

"Nuuusss!! Spookiess!! Mess no wannasss!" She huffs up loudly, puffing her chest against my scalp, but hops off onto the lamp. Leaving me to martial the rest of our panic.

"Shit. This is useless. We need eyes." I flick a claw at the others. "Keep the damn door covered. I'm gonna go see what the Hell happened to Pol."

"Rrghh. Hurry up." Kami groans, sweat pouring down her face.

With that, I spin on the spot - considering options.

There ain't many.

The laptop crawls with fragments of data, websites, maps of The City. All of it coiling around a shimmering cluster of inverted towers - five claws, bound within an enigmatic web of neon. Centred around a mysterious, prismatic, gleam.....

Intel from Moon's dataStick.

Useless - at least for now.

I stare up at the silent turret. Its red light blinking, endlessly. "Hey! Pol!"

Still nada.

I glance up at the balcony for a second, scowl, bite my lip, and sigh. Turning to stalk my way into Kami's room - past a wad of fabric, and a desk built of old ammo crates. Kicking open the cupboard to get at the security hub.

Where I stop, and wince.

Because.... well. Y'think punks are spiky? Ho boy. Try delving into their wardrobes.

It's like a pick n' mix box of knives.

Never the bloody less, I seal my helmet and wedge myself in - ignoring the various looted belts, jackets, and bits attempting to horribly puncture me. Therein I fumble a bit, flip a panel, hit the code on the box, and jack its cable into my skull. Stuffing my ass on the prickly back-shelf as Cyberspace engulfs me.

## Initiating :: [neuroJump]

I blur through rings of light, to slam face-first into a second - bigger, and somehow spikier - mass of things that also want to kill me. This time, a pack of virtual security bots - blocky pincers snapping at my face.

"Oi! It's me, you idiots!" I snarl. "Access code: Omega-four-four-four-four!"

## Accessing :: [Secure Home Hub v32.6644]

## Secure Hub :: Device [Spooks_Stupid_Implant_Thing] has been recognised

## Secure Hub :: [DNA] Confirmed

## Secure Hub :: [Voice Print] Confirmed

## Secure Hub :: [Secure Pin] Confirmed

## Secure Hub :: [Mental Imprint] Confirmed

The bots implode into a series of inert spheres as internal security shuts down. Dropping me into a twisted mesh of apartment hallways that pulse and shift like living things. Dark ruby carpets. Mirrors, streaming with data. The floor ahead consumed by threads of glassy black tar that shift with rainbow light.....

I have dreams like this....

I hop onto the tar, and it buzzes with power beneath me. Flickers of information. Diagnostics. The oil ripples, as if it were alive. Shearing open the way ahead, like a dull knife through jelly. A portal. I hop through, and the world jumps. Landing me, on all fours, in a mirror of the hallway. Mirrors, lights, and everything. All of it carved from eerie red and black marble, cut through with threads of every radiant colour. Traces of delicate, intricate, clockwork ticking quietly in the cracks. Slow. Idle. As if winding down, or waiting to be called upon....

I touch one, gently, and it stops. Silencing an almost inaudible tick. The coloured light around me growing dimmer, by just a fraction. And, in my hackles, I feel it. I know it.

This.... this place I've entered..... is not just some fancy interface.

On some level, too deep to fathom, it is.....

Real.....

I shudder, and lash my tail. But what choice have I got? I slip forward, and onward, as reality bends around me. The mirrors lengthening into doors, and alcoves, and warrior statues of granite and iron. The ceiling rising. Arching. Bending upward, as the vast machine we call Polybius slowly subsumes and subverts our tower.

Growing into it. Twisting its shape into something like its own.

And, as I move deeper, the sensation of Realness grows. Building behind my eyes, like pressure.

I step softly, and quietly, across tiles of cool and heavy stone. Each one precisely triangular, and so finely edged I can feel it. The gaps deepening, and filling with light, as the tunnel widens. Expanding in ways no physical structure would - or could - until it dwarfs even the ancient service-tunnels beneath our tower. Baroque autoGuns, carved from gold and marble, turning as I pass.

Leading me deeper.

I stop before a towering gate of bronze, cut with a single vast image. A tree woven from bright silver ribbons that shift like living things. They unfurl, and retract, into their trunk as the door splits. My toes clenching, slightly, as I force myself to proceed. Past golems tall as towers, finely carved from living rock and icy crystal. Past silvery guns with living eyes. Past treasuries of things from whispering dreams.

Until I face The Second Gate.

"What the Hell is this modelled on?" I whisper, staring up at the unsettling tableau. Its style, and imagery, utterly alien and unsettling. Twisted, and labyrinthine - layering detail, onto detail, onto detail. Though its message is very, very, very clear.

A being of burning-bright gold - taller than skyscrapers. Its head an explosion of threads and lights. Its billion arms, woven from snakes and swooping wings, reaching down to the masses of humanity.

With one hand, it mutates the left side into GMOs. With the other, it twists them into....

The figure steps down from the image. Standing still, and solid, as the gate opens behind it. Though the fronds of gold and feathery light seem to shift and twist in the corners of my eyes. Never moving, yet never ceasing.....

Increasingly nervous, I slip between its spread legs to face The Final Gate.

After the last two, I'm already unnerved. But they were nothing. Nothing, compared to the last.

I don't know why it scares me so much.

This machine made of silver, and eyes, and ticking clockwork.

Staring at me. Unblinking.

A thousand rumbling gears, folding space and reality. Churning. Shifting. Eyes rotating around eyes. Folding into eyes. Shifting around eyes. Burning in the void-

I swallow, and tear my own from it.

Yet the world itself thrums to its ever-deepening Tick. Tick. Tick.....

Beating in time to my heart.

No. Forcing my heart to beat in time with it.

The rhythm itself shifting from moment to moment. Building an ache inside of me that sets my teeth on edge, and forces my nails to bite deep into my palms.

Tick. Tick. Tick-tick....

And then, with no warning, the gate shudders. Gears rolling across gears. Cogs sliding behind cogs, until the tower-high door simply... comes apart. Folding back into the walls on either side. Leaving me in silence, beneath a ceiling built for gods.

"R-right......" My voice never echoes. Simply swallowed by the nothingess.

I turn, as if to flee. Tail twitching. But I force myself forward - into a red marble basilica, higher than The City itself. Strands of silver and gold crawling up pillars as thick as skyscrapers. Building themselves into halls that roar up, and up, into the endless, dusty, dark. Arching into domes and buttresses. Into swooping galleries, and twisted geometry.

As if I look upon a thing so vast that reality simply... breaks... around it.

My perception twisting, wildly, until I'm unsure how large it really is at all.....

And there.

Right at the heart of everything.

I see.... no..

I witness Polybius.

The might of it weakening my knees.

"Holy shit...." I whisper. "Is that....."

>>><<<