Steven's cheeks were burning from the wide grin plastered on his face, and he didn't care. He stood on the second-floor landing of the stairwell, adrenaline coursing through his veins. There was no other word to describe the situation: it was thrilling.
His heart pounded a staccato rhythm in his chest. Mendez's voice, sharp and clear, cut through the tense silence via the emblem. "Two headed your way," she said, her warning a stark contrast to the lethal efficiency with which she was already engaging the targets. Each muffled crack of her Eagle XE-R echoed in the confined space, a symphony of destruction. Her position, close-quarters overwatch of the stairwell entrance, was a stroke of genius. With the emblem's targeting assistance, she was a force of nature. Using the narrow gap between the double-back stairwell configuration, she was able to fire directly down onto the enemy as they piled through the double doors on the ground floor.
All Steven had to do was clean up the mess.
His own rifle lay at his feet, already having been emptied into the oncoming horde of raptor units. Rather than reload, he had switched to the Hammerhead H-6 shotgun.
It was not merely a shotgun; in fact, it was technically not a shotgun at all. The Hammerhead used the same energy-to-matter conversion method as both the G-100 sidearm and the Eagle rifle. When they had instructed the Hub to create these weapons, they made sure they were compatible with the energy pack that he and Mendez wore on their hips, ensuring seamless functionality.
The Hammerhead kicked back in his hands as he fired, each shot a brilliant flash of light followed by a deafening explosion of metal and circuitry. "Got 'em," he said, cutting the two units down as they clambered over the pile of debris that had once been the initial push through the stairwell entrance.
The first time he had fired the Hammerhead, it emitted a single projectile that blasted a hole open in the raptor he was aiming at. But it didn't stop there. The heavy slug punched a hole through everything in its path, continuing out of the stairwell and down into the lobby, leaving a small concrete crater with chips sent flying. The sheer force of the weapon had taken him by surprise, a testament to its raw power.
The Hammerhead had a collection of dials and switches on the side of the stock, and he couldn't help but touch them. They were solid and tactile, reminding him of his grandfather's suitcase, which he would play with as a child, fascinated by the clasps and the dial of the combination lock. The Hammerhead had a similar dial, acting as a selector for a multitude of firing modes. The default was the single slug, then there was scattershot, vertical and horizontal spread, and next, an increasingly larger series of conical blasts, with the pellets getting smaller as the area of the shot increased.
Steven marveled at the weapon's versatility, feeling the heft of it as he switched modes. The controls were intuitive, each setting providing a different tactical advantage. He settled on the horizontal spread, finding it particularly effective against the raptor units that escaped Mendez's wrath.
"They're coming faster now," Mendez called out, her voice laced with urgency as she glanced at him between shots.
He tapped the medallion affixed to his chest piece. "Emblem, show me," he instructed.
The air lit up around him. Tiny pinpricks of light formed a point cloud, revealing the enemy's movements on the ground floor. They were closing fast.
The once faceless horde now materialized as relentless, efficient killing machines. Crab-like bodies, mounted on spindly legs, moved with unnatural speed. They were no longer just raptors in his mind; they were something more insidious.
"What's that?" Mendez asked, her voice sharp.
Before he could respond, he saw the new threat. The emblem's point cloud struggled to define the smaller, faster enemies. They were almost half the size of the standard raptors but shared the same basic structure. These new units were already infiltrating the stairwell, climbing over the growing pile of debris.
"They have babies?" he muttered, the thought as absurd as it was terrifying.
Mendez fired, but from his vantage point he could see that the smaller raptors danced out of the way with unnatural agility. "They're too fast," he called out, switching his Hammerhead to a wider spread. A burst of projectiles erupted from the weapon, peppering the incoming wave at an oblique angle. "Damnit," he muttered to himself at the ineffectiveness of the shot.
"What's the setting?" Mendez asked, holding up her own Hammerhead.
"Three clicks on the dial," he said, "by your thumb."
The blast from Mendez's Hammerhead bought him a precious moment. He stepped down the staircase, gaining a clearer view of the shattered double doors and the scope of the oncoming horde.
As he fired, a blur streaked past him, slamming into the wall of the stairwell with a metallic crunch. Steven's eyes widened as he realized what had happened. It was one of the smaller units, two of its three spindly legs clawing at the wall for purchase. They could jump as well, he realized, and they could leap the gap between the stairwell entrance and the pile of ex-raptor debris that had stymied the larger units.
Panic surged in his chest. These things weren't just fast—they were agile, capable of bypassing the very defenses he had relied on. The Hammerhead barked in his hands as he adjusted his aim, firing at the small, skittering form before it could recover. The blast connected, sending the raptor spinning back down the stairs in a spray of sparks and shredded metal.
"Mendez!" he shouted, his voice tight with urgency. "They're jumping the gap! We've got to keep moving!"
Another raptor launched itself at him, its leap covering the distance with terrifying speed. He barely had time to switch the Hammerhead's firing mode before it was upon him. He fired a wide spread, the pellets tearing through the raptor's frame in mid-air, but the force of the impact sent him stumbling back, his foot catching on the edge of the step.
He regained his balance, rising to his knees just in time to see more of the smaller units swarming through the gap, their central sensors glowing with a predatory light. They were relentless, pushing forward with a kind of mechanical determination that sent a cold chill down his spine. They weren't just trying to outmaneuver them—they were adapting to every move he and Mendez made.
"Keep them off me!" he called out as he scrambled to get up and away.
Mendez was behind him, buying him enough time to recover and get to his feet. She jerked her head in the direction of the rising stairs. "I'll cover you. Move!"
He grabbed his rifle from the floor and affixed it haphazardly to his back. He turned and sprinted up the stairs. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the adrenaline surging through his veins as he prepared to cover her retreat. "Come on, come on," he muttered to himself.
With a swift motion, he brought the Hammerhead down, his thumb pressing hard on the reload button. The weapon hummed as it drew energy from the pack on his hip, the lights on its side flickering to life as it recharged.
He turned at the top of the double-back landing, halfway between the floors. "Your turn," he called out to Mendez, "we'll leapfrog!"
Mendez, catching his meaning, fired her Hammerhead and then turned to run, she continued up and past him. The little bastards were right on her heels.
Mendez passed him, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts as she pushed herself forward. He didn't hesitate. He stepped forward, taking her place at the front, and unleashed a volley of shots down the stairwell. The Hammerhead roared, the wide spread of pellets tearing into the advancing raptors, sending sparks and shards of metal flying.
But the onslaught of the smaller units didn't stop. "Goddamnit," he swore as more turned the corner. They clambered over the remains of their fallen comrades, their glowing sensors locked onto him with an unsettling focus. They were closing in, faster than he'd expected.
"I'm in position!" Mendez called from above, her voice carrying a note of urgency. "Go, go, go!"
He spun on his heel and bolted up the stairs, every muscle in his body straining as he pushed himself harder. They traded places, stopping on every half-floor landing, each time laying down a fresh barrage of fire to keep the relentless raptors at bay. The sound of the Hammerheads echoed through the stairwell, the sharp crack of energy bursts and the screeching of metal on metal filling the air.
By the time they reached the sixth floor, he was drenched in sweat, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
"Make a stand here," Mendez breathed out, her own exhaustion evident, "their numbers are thinning."
He nodded and raised the Hammerhead to his shoulder. Mendez fired as soon as the first unit showed itself. He tensed, then, realizing that was poor technique, attempted to settle into the stance he had practiced in his dorm room using a cardboard cutout of an M4A1.
His mind barely had time to process the glimpse of motion on his left as something clamped down hard on his arm. It was one of the small units, it had jumped the gap between the staircase railing and the sloped concrete of the upper staircase leading up. He didn't have time to think or feel pain. He dropped the Hammerhead and reached for the G-100 attached to his right thigh.
The smaller raptor's grip was like a vise, its metallic legs crushing down on his arm with a ferocity that sent a jolt of adrenaline through his system. His hand closed around the G-100's grip, the cold metal a lifeline in the chaos. The world seemed to narrow, his focus zeroing in on the immediate task: get the thing off before it crushed his arm completely.
He yanked the pistol free, his left arm screaming in protest as he twisted his body to get a clear shot. The raptor's central sensor pulsed with a cold, alien light, and he could feel the pressure intensifying as the thing tried to grind his arm down to pulp.
He squeezed the trigger, the G-100 blasting a hole through the core. It was dead but the raptor's grip remained like a vise, its metallic legs still clamped onto his arm even after the shot had rendered it scrap. The weight of the dead machine dragged on his arm, each second amplifying the dull throb that was quickly becoming a sharp, searing pain.
"Mendez, I got it, but the damn thing's still stuck," he grunted, shaking his arm to no avail. The raptor's claws were locked into place, the metal edges digging into his armor and flesh beneath.
Mendez fired another shot down the stairwell, keeping the remaining raptors at bay as she spared a glance at him. "You've got to get that thing off. Use the salvage tool—quick!"
His heart pounded as he fumbled for the salvage tool in his pocket. His left arm was practically useless with the raptor still latched onto it, and every movement sent fresh waves of pain coursing through his body. His fingers finally found the tool, and he yanked it free with his good hand.
The salvage tool hummed to life as he activated it, the device scanning the dead raptor still clamped to his arm. He gritted his teeth, focusing through the pain as the tool's interface flickered, analyzing the wreckage.
"Son of a—" he muttered under his breath, willing the process to move faster.
The salvage tool emitted a soft chime, and he maneuvered it over the raptor's joints. The tool's precise laser cutters began their work, slicing through the raptor's locking mechanisms with surgical precision. He felt the tension in the claws around his arm begin to ease, the grip loosening as the salvage tool deactivated the raptor's last vestiges of power.
With a final snap, the raptor's legs released their hold, and the dead weight fell away, clattering to the ground. he exhaled sharply, the relief almost dizzying as he flexed his bruised arm.
"Mendez, it's off," he called out, his voice hoarse. He stuffed the salvage tool back into his belt and grabbed his Hammerhead from the ground. The pain in his arm was still there, but it was bearable, and he knew they had to keep moving.
"Hold still," Mendez said, her voice calm despite the chaos around them. She was already at his side, her hands working quickly at his armor, trying to assess the damage. "Tell your emblem to release the left bracer," she instructed, her tone leaving no room for argument.
"It's not that bad," he protested.
"That's the adrenaline talking," she said, "let me take a look."
He nodded, swallowing the urge to protest. "Emblem, release left bracer," he commanded through clenched teeth.
There was a brief pause, then a soft click as the bracer disengaged. Mendez gently slid it off, revealing the bruised and swollen flesh underneath. The skin was already turning an angry purple, and he hissed as the cold air hit the exposed injury.
"Compression syndrome," she diagnosed, her voice matter-of-fact.
"You can tell just by looking?" he winced as the pain flared up again.
"I'm pre-med, biology major, Chen," she replied, her tone clipped but not unkind.
"Sorry, I guess I don't know much about you," he muttered, feeling a twinge of guilt amidst the pain.
"Let's focus on this," Mendez said, her attention back on his injury. She casually picked up his dropped Hammerhead, smoothly pivoting to blast a new attacker trying to close in on them. The weapon roared, the raptor disintegrating in a shower of sparks. "If this is sarcolemma trauma, you're going to need treatment."
He clenched his jaw, he had no idea what that meant, but it sounded serious. "How bad is it?"
"Bad enough," Mendez said, her eyes narrowing as she examined his arm again. "The muscle fibers are damaged, and if we don't get it stabilized, it could get a lot worse. You could lose function in that arm."
"What do we do?" he asked, his mind racing for a solution.
Mendez glanced around, weighing their options. "We need the Hub. It might be able to make something."
He nodded, already thinking ahead. "Emblem, can you contact the Hub?"
"The Hub Station is not in range. Construct a Defense Force relay to extend the signal range," the emblem responded, its tone neutral.
"Damn," he muttered under his breath.
"What is it?" Mendez asked, her focus still on his injury.
"That relay is advanced tech," he explained, frustration edging into his voice. "At least according to the Hub. It mentioned something about it before we left, but we don't have the schematic."
"Correction," the emblem's voice interrupted, "the Field Salvage Tool has the Defense Force Relay schematic loaded."
He blinked in surprise, the realization hitting him. He remembered the Hub mentioning the relay before, but he had assumed they didn't have access to it. Now, the emblem was telling him that the schematic was available all along.
"It's the Field Salvage Tool," he said, his voice a mix of amazement and relief. "It has the schematic. The alien Drix must've loaded it with advanced features."
Mendez nodded, quickly piecing it together. "That means we can build the relay and get in touch with the Hub. Maybe it can help with your arm."
"Okay," he said, the pain in his arm momentarily forgotten in the rush of hope. "Let's do it. We need to set up that relay, but where?"
Mendez looked around the cramped confines of the sixth-floor landing. She glanced briefly at the door leading into the building proper.
"Here," she said, determination hardening her voice. "We have to guard the stairs."
Mendez kept watch while he activated the Field Salvage Tool, attempting to access the schematic for the Defense Force Relay.
Now, how had they made the Hub that first time? he asked himself. He'd simply uttered the words 'make the hub' and it came to life. He remembered that the tool had even talked. It had been silent ever since.
Here goes nothing. he thought. "Make the Defense Force Relay," he said.
The Field Salvage Tool buzzed with renewed energy, its previously dormant functions now activated. The space around them seemed to hum in response, as if the very air itself was alive with anticipation. Mendez glanced over her shoulder, the unease on her face mirroring his own.
The tool emitted a beam of ultraviolet light, just as it had when they first created the Hub. The light swept across the floor, walls, and ceiling, scanning every inch of their surroundings. Objects within the room began to glow under its ethereal illumination, casting eerie shadows that danced and twisted in the dim light.
He felt the weight of the moment pressing down on him, just as it had before. This was no ordinary technology. It was something far beyond human comprehension, something that Drix and Cheeluu had gifted—or perhaps burdened—him with.
As the scan completed, the Field Salvage Tool began its work. The light from the tool shifted, becoming a razor-thin beam that started to trace complex patterns on the floor. The outlines it created were reminiscent of the Hub's birth, geometric shapes that slowly began to rise, formed not from light, but from the very materials around them.
The remnants of the raptors they had defeated, the debris scattered across the room, even the dust in the air—all of it was drawn toward the beam, sucked into its orbit like metal filings to a magnet. The materials twisted and morphed, their forms reshaping under the invisible hand of the tool, assembling themselves into something new, something alien.
He watched in awe as the relay began to take shape. Unlike the Hub, which had been a solid, imposing structure, the relay was more delicate, almost skeletal in its design. It was a series of interconnected rods and panels, each one pulsing with a soft, blue light that seemed to breathe with a life of its own.
As the relay grew, it became clear that it was designed to connect with the Hub's network. Thin, translucent cables snaked out from the structure, embedding themselves into the walls, floor, and ceiling, as if searching for a signal. The relay's core glowed brightly, a beacon in the dim room, its purpose clear: to reach out, to extend the Hub's influence beyond its original range.
They both watched with guarded curiosity as the relay completed its assembly. The last of the materials were absorbed into the structure, and the Field Salvage Tool emitted a soft chime, signaling the end of the construction process. The relay stood before them, sleek and otherworldly, its purpose both clear and mysterious.
"Defense Force Relay complete," the voice of the emblem said, "connecting to Defense Force Hub Station."
"Finally," Mendez said, her eyes still on the stairwell, ever vigilant.
Steven gripped the G-100 tightly. He'd only fired it once, but the memory of its power was fresh. Unlike the Eagle or the Hammerhead, the G-100 had a numerical display for the number of shots remaining—four out of five. Still, he held it near the power cell and reloaded it, just in case.
A tense silence settled over them as they waited for the connection to be established. The soft hum of the relay filled the air, a contrast to the pounding of his heart.
"Connection could not be established," the emblem's voice interrupted, shattering the brief moment of hope. "Construct the relay's broadcast module to extend the sensor range."
He cursed under his breath, the frustration mounting. "Of course, it's never that easy."
Mendez shot him a quick glance, her expression hardening. "We don't have time to mess around, Chen. Can you make the broadcast module?"
He crouched down to get a closer look at the relay's controls. "Let me look at it," he said, his voice steady despite the urgency.
He sidled around the new construct, his eyes scanning the surface until he found what he was looking for—a small, flat display panel, almost hidden within the sleek design of the relay. The texture was familiar, identical to the flat panels the Hub had used to manage the Defense Force, Equipment, and the Hub itself.
He reached out, his fingers brushing over the surface, activating the panel. His eyes widened in surprise as the interface flickered to life. The display wasn't filled with alien symbols or cryptic codes, but rather with icons that were eerily familiar.
"Uh," he muttered, blinking in disbelief, "why does this look like the dashboard of a Honda Civic?"
Mendez glanced over her shoulder, momentarily distracted by his comment. "What?"
He stared at the interface, his mind racing to make sense of it. The icons on the display were unmistakably modeled after the controls of a car. But not quite. The icons themselves were familiar.
"The shape and color scheme is identical to my dad's car," he said, his voice tinged with confusion, "but the symbols are all different."
Mendez shook her head in exasperation. "Pick the one that says 'broadcast module' to you and press it."
He scanned each icon carefully, trying to discern any logic in their arrangement. A blast rang out from Mendez's Hammerhead, the sound jolting him back to the urgency of their situation.
"We don't have all day," she warned, her voice sharp. "And you need to get that arm treated."
Taking a deep breath, he focused on the icons, his eyes settling on one that seemed to resemble a transmission tower with waves of energy radiating outward. It wasn't exactly labeled, but it looked like it could be the right choice.
"Wait," he said, shaking his head, "am I overthinking this?"
"Overthinking what?"
"Everything else is voice activated, right?"
"Oh, yeah, just tell it what you want," she said, turning the statement into a question.
"Right," he said, then addressed the relay directly, "Relay, construct the broadcast module."
Two new icons appeared on the screen. One red and the other green. It took him only a moment to determine that this was a cancel or confirm screen. He pressed the green icon on the right.
A new screen with three icons appeared. These were all a darker shade of red.
"You have got to be kidding me," he muttered to himself. He didn't have the time or patience to guess what these icons represented. "Emblem, what are these symbols?"
"The icons inform the Defense Force user that the requested module requires materials to begin construction. In order, these materials are a power component, grey metallic plate, and black composite plate."
"Okay," he said, tapping his pack, which was filled with a variety of salvage components. "We have the power components. Where do we get the plates?"
"There are multiple sources for raw material plate," the emblem replied. "However, there is only one option without a Hub Station available here. Raw material plate is a possible result of salvaging an unsalvaged incursion unit via the quantum probability calculation function. Warning: using the quantum probability calculation function will prevent the user from earning Defense Force Credits."
"Who cares about the credits?" Mendez said, her voice sharp and decisive. "Just do it."
His mind flashed back to when they first encountered the concept of the quantum probability calculation function. The Hub had explained it in a way that immediately struck him as something straight out of a video game. There was a module involved, which didn't matter now, but it was also an upgrade for the Field Salvage Tool. He'd set the idea aside at the time, assuming they would get to it when they unlocked the upgrade. But now, with their backs against the wall, it was possible that Drix had also added that function.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
"Emblem, is the quantum probability function available with this tool?" he asked, holding it up.
"Affirmative," the emblem responded.
He felt a flicker of hope, but it was tempered by the catch: Defense Force Credits. You earned them through the Hub, which they couldn't contact right now. If they could, they'd likely be swimming in credits from all the enemy forces they had already taken down.
"How many credits do we have?" he asked, bracing himself.
"Defense Force United States Army has two point one one one DFC," the emblem replied.
Mendez's brow furrowed. "And how many credits does it take to use the quantum thing on a unit?"
"The cost is dependent on the size and tier level of the salvaged unit," the emblem said. "The Field Salvage Tool will display the cost before the function is initiated."
"Try that one," Mendez said, pointing to one of the small raptor units lying at the bottom of the midpoint landing between the sixth and fifth floors.
He nodded, slipping the tool into his side pocket and holding the G-100 ready as he carefully descended the steps toward the landing. The tension in the air was palpable, every creak of the stairs amplified in the confined space. Mendez followed a few steps behind him, her Hammerhead raised and ready for any unexpected threats.
"Clear," she said, her eyes scanning the area with a practiced efficiency. "Check it."
He swapped the pistol for the Field Salvage Tool, feeling its familiar weight in his hand. The small raptor unit lay twisted on the landing, its mechanical limbs splayed out like some grotesque insect. He knelt beside it, activating the tool and aiming it at the fallen machine.
The tool's display flickered to life, scanning the raptor unit with a soft hum. The cost appeared on the screen almost instantly: 0.00024 DFC.
He scoffed, shaking his head. "That's it? We could do the whole swarm."
Mendez let out a dry chuckle, the tension easing slightly from her shoulders. "Well, let's not waste any more time then. Do it."
He initiated the quantum probability calculation function, the tool buzzing and vibrating lightly in his hand. A blue-green glow enveloped the remains of the raptor unit, even extending to a detached piece of one of the legs that had been wedged in the corner of the landing. The glow intensified for a moment, then suddenly vanished, taking the raptor's body with it.
With a soft thud, a gun dropped to the ground, materializing out of thin air. A silver rectangle followed, clanging alongside it. The rectangle was about the size of a notecard, with four holes punched along one of the shorter edges. his brow furrowed as he reached down to examine the items.
He picked up the gun first. It was sleek and unfamiliar, with a design that suggested it wasn't meant to be used with their current power cells. Instead, it had a slot for what looked like a battery or capsule.
"Emblem, identify this weapon," he said, his voice steady but curious.
The emblem responded immediately, its tone precise and clinical. "Weapon identified: Designation 'Z-14 Lancer.' The Z-14 Lancer is a compact energy weapon designed for short to mid-range combat. It utilizes energy capsules as its power source, each capsule providing sufficient charge for up to fifty discharges. The weapon is known for its high rate of fire and minimal recoil, making it effective in close quarters. This model is not compatible with standard Defense Force power cells."
He turned the weapon over in his hands, taking in its features. "Energy capsules… Do we have any of those?"
"Negative," the emblem replied. "Energy capsules are not available in your current inventory. They may be obtained through salvage operations or the Hub Station's Equipment Module."
"Great," he muttered, feeling the weight of the situation. The weapon was powerful, but without the necessary capsules, it was limited in usefulness.
Mendez stepped closer, eyeing the Lancer. "If we find any capsules, that thing could come in handy. Might be worth keeping, even if it's just as a backup."
He then turned his attention to the silver rectangle. It was solid and smooth, with a metallic sheen that reflected the dim light around them. "Emblem, what about this?"
"Item identified: Raw Material Plate. Composition: grey metallic alloy. The plate is used in the construction and reinforcement of Defense Force structures and equipment. This specific variant is compatible with the broadcast module you are currently constructing."
He felt a small surge of relief. "We've got one of the plates we need. That's a good start."
He added the plate to one of the outer pouches of his pack.
Mendez held her hand out. "I'll hold onto that gun."
He passed it to her and watched as she attached it just below the Eagle rifle across her chest.
"We just need the composite plate then, right?" she said.
He nodded and pointed to the next closest small raptor unit as few steps down. "Stay sharp, I'll get this one."
Mendez positioned herself to cover him, her Hammerhead at the ready. "Go ahead. I've got your back."
He moved cautiously down the stairs, each step deliberate as he approached the next raptor unit. The tension in the air was palpable, every sound amplified in the confined space. He couldn't afford to let his guard down, not with the risk of more raptors lurking nearby.
Once he reached the raptor, he knelt beside it, switching the G-100 for the Field Salvage Tool again. The small raptor lay twisted, its mechanical form now lifeless. He activated the tool, feeling the familiar hum as it began to scan the unit.
The display on the tool lit up, showing the cost for the quantum probability calculation: 0.00035 DFC. A little higher than the last, but still minimal.
"Initiating salvage," he said under his breath, pressing the button to start the process.
The blue-green glow enveloped the raptor's remains, flickering and shifting as the tool did its work. A moment later, the raptor was gone, and in its place, a pair of boots materialized on the ground.
He blinked in surprise. "Boots?" he muttered, picking them up. They looked durable, possibly even an upgrade from their current gear, but this wasn't the time to be swapping out footwear.
Mendez glanced over. "Interesting, but we don't have time to change our shoes."
He nodded, setting the boots aside. "Let's try again."
He moved to the next closest raptor unit, activating the Field Salvage Tool once more. The process repeated, the blue-green glow enveloping the raptor's remains. When it faded, a chest piece lay on the ground alongside another metallic alloy plate.
He sighed, eyeing the armor. "This would take even longer to swap out," he said, recognizing the time-consuming process of transferring their emblems from one piece of armor to another.
"Forget it," Mendez replied, her focus still on the stairwell. "We need the materials, not new armor."
He grabbed the metallic alloy plate, adding it to his bag. "Got another one," he said, standing up and ready to move on.
Before they could initiate another salvage, a deep rumble shook the building, followed by a loud crash that echoed through the stairwell.
"What was that?" Mendez asked, her eyes wide with alarm.
The emblem chimed in, its tone urgent. "Alert: New raptor unit variant detected. Proceed with caution."
There was a trick that he had been thinking about trying. He tapped his emblem. "Use this wall as a two-dimensional display," he instructed, "show us."
The wall lit up with a monochrome red image, the details sharp and legible despite the limited color palette.
"Okay," Mendez said, nodding her head, "you just think of that?"
He shrugged, wincing at the pain in his left arm from the motion. "I thought about it when we were out on the street but there was no place to try it."
The new raptor variant was similar in structure to the others—trilaterally symmetrical—but every part of this unit was beefed up. Thicker, broader, heavier. It looked like it had been designed for pure destruction, with reinforced limbs and a bulkier core.
"How big is it?" Mendez asked, her voice tight with tension.
The emblem responded by overlaying statistical labels onto the display, using feet and inches as they had previously configured.
"Same height as the regular ones," he noted, his eyes narrowing as he studied the image.
"It's like a walking wrecking ball," Mendez said, her tone grim. "Emblem, how many of these do you detect?"
"One variant is in sensor range," the emblem replied.
The confirmation didn't ease their nerves. They could hear the distinct clanking and mechanical whirring of other raptor units heading their way, echoing ominously through the stairwell.
"It's not alone," he said, his grip tightening on the G-100. "We need to be ready for a fight."
Mendez nodded, her eyes never leaving the display. "How's your arm?" she asked him.
He flexed his fingers slightly, the pain in his arm a constant reminder of his injury. "Hurts like hell," he admitted.
"It really should be in a sling," Mendez said, her expression serious. She seemed to consider something for a moment, then pulled the new gun from her chest armor and handed him the energy pistol back. "Just in case," she said firmly. "Stay behind me, keep salvaging as you go."
He took the pistol, appreciating the gesture. He could see the worry in her eyes, though she tried to mask it behind her determined expression.
Mendez stepped past him, heading down toward the fifth-floor landing. "I'll go down and meet them," she said, her voice steady and resolute. "Listen for my call. It's either going to be to add your gun to the fight or to cover my retreat."
Steven nodded, his heart pounding as he watched her descend the stairs. "Got it," he replied, positioning himself to be ready for whatever came next.
He hated the idea of standing back while she faced the danger head-on, but he knew she was right. His arm wasn't in any condition for a prolonged fight, and salvaging might be their best shot at finding something useful before the real battle began.
As Mendez disappeared down the stairwell, he took a deep breath, focusing on the task at hand. He activated the Field Salvage Tool and tested holding it in his left hand, allowing him to hold the G-100 at the same time. There was some pain, but he could handle it.
He took the stairs one at a time, following in Mendez's wake. The sounds of approaching enemy units grew louder, a mechanical symphony that sent a chill down his spine. He kept his eyes and ears on high alert, listening for the blast of the Hammerhead. He felt the now familiar buzz of the tool in his left hand. He pressed the button to authorize the quantum salvage.
There was a flash of blue light in his peripheral vision. Still not hearing the sounds of combat from below, he looked down to see the result. He saw a weapon. It was sleek, compact, and dark, with an angular design that screamed efficiency. The weapon had a slightly curved grip and a short, slender barrel that extended just beyond the main body. Beneath the barrel, a transparent magazine was seated, filled with faintly glowing rounds that looked anything but standard.
The whole thing had an alien feel, sharp lines and faint, unreadable symbols etched along the side. It was built for speed and precision, almost as if it were made for close-quarters combat.
He eyed the weapon, then spoke. "Emblem, identify this weapon."
"Weapon identified: Designation Bazzy's Dinpa," the emblem responded. "Defense Force analog: Compact Submachine Gun. Fully automatic, firing 5.0039 by 12.66 millimeter rounds. Congratulations, this is an advanced weapon. Please review the equipment management screen for more details."
The equipment management screen, which was back at the base, he thought with a twinge of frustration.
"Mendez," he said, trusting the emblem to relay the message, "how close are you?"
"Any second now, Chen. Can't talk," came her terse reply.
He didn’t waste any time. He picked up his pace, wincing as the shock from each step jarred his injured arm. The pain shot through him, but he gritted his teeth and pushed forward, the urgency of the situation driving him onward.
Seconds later, the unmistakable bark of the Hammerhead reverberated through the stairwell. This was it, he thought, his pulse quickening. As he descended, he began mentally marking out spots where he might hold off the enemy if Mendez had to make a sudden retreat. Each potential position was a calculated choice—a place where he could buy them precious seconds or hold the line long enough for her to fall back.
"It's a big group," Mendez's voice crackled in his ear, her tone oddly casual despite the echoing blasts of the Hammerhead. "None of the small ones and no sign of the heavy unit." Another blast reverberated through the stairwell. "Third-floor landing. Come on down, the water's fine."
He allowed himself a brief smile at her unshaken confidence. He glanced at the sign pointing down to the fourth floor. That meant he had a little more than four more turnaround spots before he rejoined Mendez.
"On my way," he said, his voice steady as he pressed forward.
As he descended, he continued to salvage, confident that Mendez was holding the line and would give him enough warning if anything changed. Each salvage operation was quick and methodical, but no more weapons dropped. Instead, he found more rectangular materials and armor pieces—useful, but not immediately essential.
With each find, he used his foot to push the materials and armor pieces to the edge of the stairwell, making sure they wouldn't get in the way if they had to make a quick retreat. His movements were automatic, his mind focused on the task ahead. He was almost there, and with every step, the sounds of battle grew louder, the tension in the air thickening with each reverberation of the Hammerhead.
He approached the third-floor landing. "On your six," he said, hoping Mendez caught the reference. It was something the characters in Call of Duty said when they approached a friendly.
"You're almost too late, Chen," she replied, a slight edge of humor in her voice.
Before he could respond, another building-shaking collision reverberated from below, the impact rattling through the walls and up into his bones.
"Look what you did," he said.
"What?" she shot back, her focus still on the stairwell below.
"You tempted the gods with your hubris," he replied, half-jesting but fully aware that their situation was no laughing matter.
Mendez let out a breath that might have been a chuckle, though it was hard to tell amidst the chaos. He moved into position beside her, the tension between them palpable.
"Two variants are in sensor range," the emblem informed them, its calm tone a stark contrast to the gravity of the situation.
He exchanged a quick glance with Mendez, the reality of what they were about to face settling in.
"Let's get a count," he said, pointing at the opposing wall. "Emblem, use this wall as a display again. Show us the number of enemy for each of the known variations."
Three sets of red numbers appeared on the wall: 14, 0, 2.
He felt a knot tighten in his stomach as he processed the numbers. "Fourteen regulars, no small ones, and two heavies," he muttered, his mind already running through possible scenarios.
Mendez nodded, her grip tightening on the Hammerhead. "Emblem, can you add a top-down map of the enemy units and their relative position to us?"
The emblem responded immediately, projecting a detailed top-down map onto the wall. The stairwell was represented as a square filled with moving red dots. One of the dots was larger than the others, and that matched the larger dot outside the square. That must be the direction of the lobby on the ground floor, he thought. But because their battlefield was mostly vertical, they had no way to accurately determine the enemy's position relative to their elevation. The enemy could be on the ground floor, or they might already be just below them, coming up from the second.
"Okay, yeah, I should have thought about that," Mendez muttered in disappointment, her frustration evident.
He quickly shook his head. "It's fine. We’ll just have to play it by ear. The map still gives us a sense of where they’re bunched up, and we know they’re close. It's a good idea, like a minimap."
Mendez turned to look in his direction. He caught the slight double take she gave the new weapon in his hand.
"What the hell is that?" she asked, her eyes narrowing at the unfamiliar gun.
He held it up for Mendez to get a better look. "The emblem calls it a compact submachine gun."
"I can see that. It looks like an Uzi," she said, her tone curious. "I assume that’s the drop you wanted to talk to me about?"
He nodded, then paused as the sound of metal scraping against concrete echoed up the stairwell. Mendez was already set, her Hammerhead aimed at the corner of the staircase.
"That’s close," he muttered, shifting into a defensive position. He took a quick weapon inventory. The G-100 and the new energy pistol were affixed to his right thigh, he had to admit he didn’t fully understand how the emblem did that. The submachine gun, Bazzy's Dinpa, was in his right hand, its unfamiliar weight a constant reminder of the gamble he was taking.
He mentally prepared himself for the need to drop the Dinpa and swap it for the G-100, the trusted sidearm he knew could take down the raptors reliably. He wouldn’t be taking a risk like this, leading with an untested firearm, if Mendez wasn’t there. She’d proven she could handle herself in the worst situations. He glanced over at her, watching as she confidently wielded the Hammerhead H-6.
Mendez fired before he had even clocked the enemy. It had been a regular unit, which he surmised only by the counter on the wall shifting from fourteen to thirteen. He took another step to the right, searching for a better angle.
Suddenly, a massive limb crashed down onto the midpoint landing, the impact sending a shudder through the stairwell. Eight steps separated them from what must surely be the heavy variant.
Again, Mendez was a step ahead of him. She adjusted her stance, blasting the limb with the Hammerhead set to the tightest spread.
There was no effect. The projectiles ricocheted in every direction, sparks flying off the unyielding metal. One of them glanced off his shoulder, but he shrugged it off and aimed.
"Slug shot," Mendez muttered, already adjusting her Hammerhead.
Steven nodded and pulled the trigger on the Dinpa. Black smoke erupted from the barrel, backlit in a chilling yellow-green light that filled the stairwell.
Brappabapbappabapa!
The submachine gun rattled off its rounds, and for a brief moment, Steven thought he heard someone laughing—an eerie echo that trailed the Dinpa's retort.
Smoke cleared. The barrage had chewed through the leg and the heavy limb was sawed in half, the sudden lack of support causing the unit to topple forward. Mendez was ready. She fired, the Hammerhead delivering a single heavy slug downrange. The round tore through the heavy raptor's core, sending a shockwave through the stairwell as the massive machine crumpled under its own weight.
Steven's breath caught as the submachine gun in his hand let out a high-pitched whine, the magazine glowing with the same yellow-green light he had seen when he'd fired it.
"Whoo! War eagle!" he yelled, adrenaline surging.
"Nice shot, but don’t get cocky," Mendez warned.
"Great, kid," he said reflexively.
"Maybe, but we ain’t done yet," she said, "it's still moving."
Another unit was hugging the right side of the passage, trying to climb over the twitching heavy raptor. Steven tapped the trigger, trying to conserve ammo against the regular unit. There was a brief delay as the Dinpa spun up. He could feel a gyroscopic force whirring within the weapon before it unleashed a short burst.
Rappababap!
His jaw hung open. The raptor fell into scrap, it was cleaved in two. The SMG's magazine glowed, almost as if in satisfaction. The gun buzzed in his hand, and he could swear it was getting heavier. He held it up to get a better look.
Mendez put another slug into the body of the heavy unit.
There wasn't anything immediately obvious jumping out at him about the Dinpa. He took in the scene below them on the stairs and quickly checked the scoreboard.
12, 0, 1.
"One heavy is down," he said, stating the obvious as he checked the minimap on the wall, looking for the other big dot. "Second heavy looks like it's in the stairwell."
"I've been watching the dots," Mendez said. "They get brighter and slightly larger the closer they are."
"Looks like we’ve got a gap then."
As they waited for the next enemy wave to appear, Mendez spoke up. "Speaking of dots, I came up with a better version of the targeting reticle," she said. "I got the idea after you told the emblem to use the wall as a display."
Steven immediately understood what Mendez had figured out. In fact, he realized he'd already seen her using it. It was so obvious. He mentally chided himself for not thinking of it first. He gave her a nod to keep talking.
"Instead of a floating target that you have to line your eye up with, I told the emblem to just put the red dot where I'm aiming."
She demonstrated by raising the Hammerhead H-6. A solid red dot appeared on the opposite wall, just below the map and enemy count. As Mendez moved the weapon, the dot tracked perfectly with her firing vector.
"That’s brilliant," Steven said, hoping he conveyed the proper enthusiasm. He addressed his own emblem. "Emblem, can you do the same for me, but make it a different color or pattern so we don't get confused?"
"Choose your preferred target pattern," the emblem responded.
He pointed at the wall to his right. "Show me the options here."
A selection of shapes appeared where he had indicated. Without hesitation, he pointed to the triangle.
"This one," he said.
"Enabled," it said.
He raised the Dinpa and watched as a red triangle danced across the wall. Steven steadied his aim, tracking the triangle as it held firm with his line of sight. "Got it," he said, satisfied with the new reticle.
"Your arm?" Mendez said, her voice tinged with concern.
"As long as I don't jar it it's not getting any worse."
She raised her eyebrows but didn’t press the issue. Steven hoped she wasn’t withholding anything. Mendez turned her attention back to the map, studying the dots as the enemy climbed the stairs. Their progress was much slower than he’d expected, but then he realized the remains of the dead units were slowing them down—a small blessing in the chaos.
"Here we go," Mendez said, her eyes focused on the map, evidently understanding its nuances better than he did.
Steven took a step forward, moving down the stairs. "Use the heavy as cover," he suggested.
She nodded, and they both got into position, crouching behind the massive bulk of the fallen raptor.
"The count hasn’t gone up since the emblem put it on the wall," Mendez noted, her voice low but steady. "Emblem, no new units detected?"
"Correct," the emblem confirmed. "For additional context, sensor range has been extended by the Defense Force Relay."
Steven exchanged a glance with Mendez. "That’s good news," he said, keeping his voice even. "We can use this window to our advantage."
Mendez gave a quick nod. "If this is it, forget the relay. We retreat back to the base as soon as we clear this group."
"That's a lot of debris to work through, and we're about to add thirteen more," he pointed out.
She blew out a breath. Before she could respond, Steven spotted the limb of the leading raptor, searching for a foothold as it led the way up the stairs. He tapped her shoulder.
"I've got it," she said, her voice calm and focused. He could make out the red dot of her targeting reticle, now that he knew what to look for. Mendez waited for the central core of the unit to come into view before blasting it back. Her Hammerhead was still set to the single heavy slug, and it was more than a match for the basic configuration.
The shot rang out, and the raptor recoiled, its core obliterated by the sheer force of the slug. The unit crumpled, tumbling back down the stairs with a clamor, disappearing from view as it crashed into what sounded like debris and active units below.
11, 0, 1.
The debris began to stir. Steven watched with dread as it collapsed from the midpoint. The remains of who knew how many raptors, large and small, lifted and fell. It was the second heavy, clearing a path. But it was still beneath the detritus.
"We can't wait for that heavy to breach through," he said, urgency lacing his words. He stood tall, lifting his right arm to put the red triangle on target. His finger found the trigger.
"Hold your fire, Chen."
He paused, extending his finger to rest it on the submachine gun's body. He owed Mendez that courtesy. Whatever she was planning, time was running out.
He struggled to see where her dot was aimed, assuming it was somewhere in the jumble of shifting raptor salvage. The debris continued to stir, the heavy raptor's bulk slowly forcing its way through.
"Wait for my shot," she said, her voice calm and focused. "I'm going to clear the way, then you put it down."
"Got it."
"You've got two more guns—don't be shy," she added, her tone edged with urgency.
"I said I got it," Steven replied, unsure where this new side to Mendez had come from. He tightened his grip on the Dinpa.
Mendez fired, and Steven was glad for the cover that the first heavy unit's bulk provided as shards of metal were flung out by the impact. A chunk the size of a shoebox bounded off the wall and landed by his feet. Mendez fired again, the Hammerhead’s heavy slug tearing into the debris. The second shot did more than just scatter metal—it struck a critical point in the shifting wreckage.
The debris collapsed inward, revealing the heavy raptor’s central core. One of the thick limbs shot out, showering the stairwell with a hail of debris. Steven barely had time to react. He dove down behind their makeshift cover, the bulk of the first heavy unit shielding him from the worst of the impact. His left arm shot out by instinct to brace his descent, but as soon as it hit the ground, a sharp pain radiated up his shoulder and neck.
He gritted his teeth, the pain momentarily blurring his vision. "God dammit," he muttered, forcing himself to focus. The heavy raptor was still active, and they couldn’t afford any mistakes now.
Mendez fired another slug, then let out a curse of her own. "Reloading!" she yelled out.
He had to act. There was no time to think, only to move. Despite the searing pain in his arm, he knew he had no choice but to use both of them to get the shot. His right hand still gripped the SMG, but he needed his left to clear a path. He shoved the leg of a dead unit out of the way, the effort sending a howl of agony tearing from his throat.
The pain was excruciating, but he pushed through it, forcing his body to obey. The debris shifted enough to give him a clear shot, and he brought the Dinpa up, aiming at the heavy raptor’s exposed core.
The instant he saw the red triangle, he squeezed the trigger. Black smoke coughed from the barrel, and the stairwell was bathed in a yellow-green hue. The magazine radiated the same color, and for a moment, he could swear that the Dinpa was cackling with joy.
Yatadaarappadaya!
The weapon vibrated violently in his grip, the internal flywheel twisting against his aim as he fought to keep it steady. The Dinpa whirred and whined, spitting out round after round as he emptied the full magazine into the heavy unit. The heavy raptor shuddered under the relentless barrage, its core sparking and sputtering as the bullets tore through its critical systems.
Steven’s arms trembled under the strain, the pain in his left shoulder screaming for him to stop, but he refused to let go. The heavy raptor let out a final, mechanical groan before it collapsed, its lights flickering out as it crumpled into the debris.
Breathing heavily, he lowered the gun, his body trembling from both the exertion and the pain. Bazzy's Dinpa was spent, its once vibrant energy now gone dull and silent.
Mendez was up in an instant. She let out a profane exclamation at the destruction left in the wake of his barrage, then climbed atop the first fallen heavy unit.
"Eleven left!" she called out, her voice echoing in the stairwell.
11, 0, 0.
Steven held the SMG to his chest. "Stick it here," he told his emblem. He took his hand away, feeling the familiar moment of connection, like the pull of two magnets snapping together.
Without missing a beat, he reached for the G-100 at his thigh, his fingers wrapping around the grip. The weight of the sidearm was reassuring, a familiar presence that grounded him in the chaos.
Mendez looked down at him from her elevated position atop the fallen raptor. "You still with me?"
"I'm good," he replied, his voice steady despite the lingering pain. He gave her a quick nod.
Mendez nodded back, her eyes narrowing as she surveyed the remaining enemies. From her elevated position, he assumed she had a clearer view of the advancing raptors. Without hesitation, she raised the Hammerhead, now reloaded and ready, and began systematically picking them off one by one.
The heavy slugs tore through the raptors' cores with deadly accuracy. As Mendez scored a clean kill, Steven noticed the Dinpa, still magnetically attached to his chest, glow and vibrate in response, as if feeding off the destruction.
Mendez fired again, each shot precise and lethal. But after her eighth shot—seven kills in—she lowered the Hammerhead. "Reloading," she called out, quickly reaching for another slug.
Steven sprang into action, the G-100 at the ready. The first raptor lunged around the corner, and he fired twice, relying completely on the red triangle to guide his aim, the second shot punched through its core and sent it crashing down. The next one charged up the stairs, nimbly stepping on the backs of the fallen, and Steven took aim, firing three shots in rapid succession, finally dropping the machine. Five shots was the limit with the G-100, and he moved to swap to the untested energy pistol—but Mendez was already back in action.
His fingers brushed against the black SMG, and he glanced down as she took out the remaining units. With each impact of the Hammerhead's heavy slug, turning another raptor into salvage, the Dinpa pulsed and rattled against his chest. It was almost like the contented purr of a well-fed cat.
0, 0, 0. No dots.
"Clear," he said.