The bunker, for the first time since they'd arrived, felt almost like a home. Or at least, the closest approximation of one that a group of genetically engineered fugitives could manage. The industrial stove in the mess hall was miraculously working, and Jordan had calculated the precise amount of salvaged diesel to mix with some questionable canned fuel to produce a steady, blue flame. The smell of something vaguely resembling stew—a concoction of rehydrated mystery meat and hardy, potato-like tubers Derek had identified as non-lethal—filled the stale air.
Leo was triumphantly adjusting a makeshift basketball hoop he'd welded from a broken chair and a barrel ring over a nearby doorway, bragging about his "post-apocalyptic engineering skills." Derek was carefully setting a table with scavenged, slightly bent metal trays. Eva was quietly sharpening a piece of rebar into a serviceable spear, her movements calm and precise. Jordan was, of course, running a nutritional analysis on the stew, muttering about "suboptimal protein content."
And Wolfen was trying to sleep. He had claimed the farthest, darkest corner of the barracks, lying on a bare metal bunk frame, one arm thrown over his eyes. The faint, rhythmic thumping of Leo's "practice shots" was, to his ancient senses, the equivalent of a jackhammer.
It was into this scene of domestic tranquility that a sound echoed, utterly alien and out of place.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
It was a polite, almost timid sound, coming from the massive, reforged main door at the end of the entrance tunnel.
Everyone froze. The only sound was the bubbling of the stew.
Leo lowered the wad of cloth he was about to shoot. "You hear that?"
"Sensory input confirmed," Jordan said, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of the Umbralite katana leaning against his chair. "Pattern: three distinct impacts on the primary entrance."
"Maybe it's a friendly mutant?" Derek offered, ever the optimist, though his mercury-sheened eyes were wide with alarm.
Wolfen didn't move from his bunk, but his voice rumbled from the darkness. "Nothing in this world is friendly. And nothing polite is to be trusted."
"Relax, grandpa," Leo said, setting down his ball. "Probably just the wind knocking a branch around. I'll go shoo it away."
He strode down the long entrance tunnel, his boots echoing on the concrete. He reached the massive door, unbolted the heavy crossbar they'd installed, and grunted as he pulled it open just a crack. "Hey, listen, pal, we're not inter—"
The door exploded inward.
It wasn't an explosion of fire and shrapnel, but of pure, brute force. The several-ton slab of reinforced steel was torn from its newly repaired hinges and sent flying down the tunnel like a giant, deadly playing card. It smashed into the far wall of the mess hall with a deafening BOOM, embedding itself halfway into the concrete.
And standing in the now-gaping doorway, silhouetted against the outside light, was a mountain of muscle and rage named Korgath. Flanking him were three other members of Strike Team Epsilon—a hulking figure with crystalline fists, a slender hybrid with bladed forearms, and one whose skin shimmered with a corrosive, acidic mucus.
Leo, who had been standing directly in the path of the door, was launched through the air like a ragdoll. He pinwheeled across the mess hall, crashed through Leo's prized basketball hoop, and landed with a sickening crunch on the metal frame of the bunk right next to Wolfen.
CLANG.
The entire bunk frame shuddered. Wolfen slowly moved his arm from his eyes and looked down at Leo, who was groaning, sprawled across the foot of his bed.
Wolfen's golden eyes narrowed. "Useless," he sighed, his voice dripping with millennia of disappointment. "Can't even shoo some dudes away."
Leo wheezed, pushing himself up on one elbow and pointing a trembling finger towards the entrance. "Dude?" he croaked. "Does that look like a 'dude' to you?"
Korgath took a ground-shaking step into the bunker, his patchwork face splitting into a brutal grin. The other three hybrids fanned out behind him, their forms radiating lethal intent.
Wolfen looked from Leo to the monstrous intruders. He gave a slow, deliberate blink. "No," he conceded. "My apologies. I have an idea."
"What?" Leo grunted, clutching his ribs.
"RUN."
The single word, delivered with such flat, unarguable finality, broke the paralysis. Chaos erupted.
Derek, Eva, and Jordan scrambled from the mess hall, diving for cover in the main control room. Leo, with a pained yell, rolled off the bunk and stumbled after them. Wolfen, however, didn't run. He stood up, his movements deceptively casual, and began walking towards the invading team, his gaze locked on Korgath.
"Distract the ugly one," Wolfen said, not looking back as he passed his fleeing comrades.
The five of them—Derek, Leo, Jordan, and Eva—poured into the control room, a cavernous space filled with dead consoles and dusty chairs. It was a terrible place for a last stand.
"Plan?" Derek yelled, his body thrumming with adrenaline.
Jordan already had the Umbralite katana in hand. "The probability of survival decreases by—"
"Shut up and fight!" Leo roared, his pain forgotten in a surge of fury. He focused, and the biopolymer filaments in his arms began to glow, not with their usual golden light, but with a crackling, violent blue energy. With a grunt of effort, he unleashed a wild arc of electricity that slammed into the crystalline hybrid. The creature shrieked as its mineral body conducted the charge, stumbling back and leaving a smoldering trail on the floor.
The bladed hybrid lunged at Derek, its arm-swords a silver blur. Derek, with no time to think, focused everything he had. His skin hardened, not like metal, but like densely packed ceramic, taking on a grey, stone-like quality. The blades scraped across his forearm with a sound like grinding rocks, throwing sparks but failing to draw blood. The impact still sent him reeling, his bones vibrating from the force.
Jordan moved to intercept the acid-skinned hybrid, which was spitting globs of sizzling green fluid. The Umbralite katana was a black whirlwind, deflecting the corrosive spit with impossible precision. Where the acid landed, it ate through consoles and the concrete floor, but the black blade remained untouched. Jordan advanced, his movements a dance of pure, lethal logic, forcing the creature back.
Eva faced the crystalline hybrid that Leo had stunned. As it recovered, shaking off the electrical charge, she raised her hands. A thick, silvery metal, like liquid mercury, flowed from her skin, coating her hands and forearms in formidable, articulated gauntlets. When the hybrid swung its glittering fist, she met it with a deafening CLANG. The sound was that of two unstoppable forces colliding. She didn't flinch, her Prime biology meeting the engineered strength head-on.
The fight was a brutal, close-quarters melee. Leo, fueled by adrenaline and pain, became a brawling storm of lightning. He couldn't control it finely—a console behind the bladed hybrid exploded in a shower of sparks from a stray bolt—but the raw, chaotic power was a potent deterrent.
Derek was the shield. He hardened his body again and again, taking blows meant for the others, his stone-like skin chipping and cracking under the relentless assault. He was holding, but he was being worn down, each impact a fresh jolt of agony.
Jordan was the surgeon. While the others fought with power and brute force, he fought with geometry. He identified the weak points—the joints in the bladed hybrid's arms, the less-crystalline patches on the other's torso. The Umbralite katana was an extension of his will, a black line of death that found its mark with terrifying efficiency. He severed one of the bladed hybrid's arms at the elbow, and as it screamed, he spun and drove the point through its neck.
Eva was the unbreakable anvil. She traded blow for blow with the crystalline brute, her metal-clad fists shattering its mineral armor piece by piece. She was a constant, an immovable object in the chaotic storm. When the creature overextended, she grabbed its glowing, crystalline core and, with a surge of her innate power, squeezed. The core shattered with a sound like a mountain breaking, and the hybrid collapsed into a pile of inert, grey rock.
That left the acid-spitter, now facing all four of them. It hissed, backing away, spraying a wide, desperate arc of its corrosive fluid.
Leo, with a final, draining effort, channeled all his built-up charge and unleashed a concentrated bolt of lightning directly into the puddle of acid forming at the creature's feet. The electricity conducted through the fluid instantly, enveloping the hybrid in its own sizzling, electrified demise. It convulsed violently before collapsing, its body dissolving into a smoking, acidic slurry.
Silence descended, broken only by the heavy panting of the four survivors. The control room was a wreck of shattered consoles, smoldering equipment, and dissolving alien corpses. Derek leaned against a wall, his hardened skin slowly returning to normal, revealing deep, painful bruises. Leo slumped to the floor, his arms smoking, the biopolymer filaments dark and dormant. Jordan stood poised, katana still ready, scanning for new threats. Eva let the liquid metal gauntlets recede back into her skin, her expression grim.
From the entrance tunnel, the sounds of a far more earth-shattering conflict echoed—the roar of Korgath and the cold, precise retorts of Wolfen's power. But in here, for now, the fight was over. They had held the line. They were battered, bleeding, and exhausted.
But they were together. And they were alive.