The Model 40 hit me with the enthusiasm of a collapsing building.
Its entire chassis drove forward. There was no hesitation. No testing strike. No warning. Just two tons of armoured conviction slamming into me like the universe had personally decided I hadn't suffered enough today.
The wall behind me didn't stand a chance.
My back hit steel. Steel surrendered immediately. Something loud snapped. Something louder cracked. Then gravity remembered it had a job and dragged both of us straight through the bent metal panel.
For half a second I was airborne.
Then I was falling.
I hit something on the way down. A pipe. Maybe a railing. It bent around my ribs like a cheap spring toy. My trajectory went sideways. I bounced off a second beam, flipped, and tumbled into the dark.
And because the universe truly commits, I landed on a pile of abandoned maintenance supplies that had apparently been waiting decades for this moment.
"Perfect. Absolutely perfect."
Cadence said nothing.
Probably deciding whether to laugh or reboot.
I groaned and pushed myself up. My body protested at every hinge point. My mechanical arm whined like it was filing a complaint with HR.
Battery: 76 %.
The hole I'd fallen through glowed faintly above me. Dust drifted down like slow-motion snowfall. Then a new shadow filled the opening.
The Model 40. It stared down at me. Not with triumph. Not with rage.
Just the neutral patience of something built to finish what it started.
"Great," I muttered. "It's learning dramatic timing."
The machine dropped.
Not fell. Dropped. Deliberate. Controlled. It hit the ground in a quake of metal and concrete, cracking the floor in a widening spiderweb around its feet.
I staggered back. "Cadence, ideas."
Her voice crackled, distorted. "Processing interference. Signal bleed. Stand. Move. Do not stay in one place."
"Where would I be without such advice." I sighed.
The heavy unit stepped forward. Its damaged arm dragged uselessly, scraping loudly across the floor. Sparks trailed behind it like angry fireflies. The remaining arm rose, joint whirring like something sharpening a blade.
I dodged as the strike came down. It hit a maintenance cart beside me and crushed it flat in an instant. Tools exploded outward in a clatter of metal.
The Model 40 rotated toward me again.
Cadence's voice flickered. "Its targeting is recalibrating after the fall. You must keep moving."
"I am moving."
I sprinted past the machine as its arm swept sideways. The blow hit a support beam and sheared it clean off. The entire level groaned ominously.
I didn't like that sound.
The machine turned and lashed out again. I ducked, slid under its legs, and popped up behind it. I hit the weakened joint I'd damaged earlier. The metal dent widened, but the machine barely stumbled.
Battery: 72 %.
I used the moment to backstep into a wider section of the lower chamber. Old consoles lined the walls. A cracked display screen flickered with half-dead status readouts. More maintenance gear littered the floor.
The heavy unit followed.
Every step it took left new cracks spidering outward like a spreading infection.
Cadence regained a slither of clarity. "It is attempting to box you into a corner. Do not retreat further right."
"Why not?"
"There is a pit."
"Define pit."
"A vertical maintenance shaft with no flooring."
"So. A hole."
"Yes. A hole."
"Say hole next time."
"I used correct terminology."
"This is a bad time for vocabulary lessons."
The Model 40 lunged again. Its hand closed around a console and tore it free from the wall, hurling it at me like a child throwing a tantrum.
I dove. The console shattered across the floor behind me, showering sparks.
Battery: 69 %.
My mechanical forearm throbbed from earlier strain. My ribs felt like someone replaced them with broken glass.
The machine charged again.
I jumped left, but the machine anticipated. Its massive hand grazed my hip and shoved me into the wall hard enough that the entire frame shook.
Pain flared everywhere, my HUD lit up like a Christmas tree..
Cadence snapped back. "Iris. Target its power relay. Lower left abdomen. Behind the plating seam you widened."
"You couldn't say that earlier."
"I was buffering."
"You buffer at terrible times."
The Model 40 swung again. I ducked under its arm, slid close, and drove my mechanical fingers deep into the damaged panel. I felt the plating give. Wires sparked against my palm. The machine spasmed, twisting violently.
But not enough.
Its free arm came down like a falling tree. I barely rolled aside before the impact slammed into the floor.
Battery: 64 %.
I stumbled to my feet. "This is getting ridiculous. I could punch holes in tanks easier than this."
Cadence replied, "Model 40 was designed to withstand artillery. You're using fists."
"Compliment?"
"Factual observation."
The machine advanced again, shaking off the momentary damage. White optics brightened. Servos whined as it recalibrated, learning from every failed strike.
"Fantastic. An adaptive brick."
I circled around it, keeping distance. The maintenance shaft Cadence warned about yawned behind me, a dark square in the floor waiting to eat anything unfortunate enough to fall in.
The Model 40 charged, straight-line, predictable.
I sprinted left.
It adjusted.
Not much. Just enough.
Its arm shot out. Fingers brushed my shoulder. Almost grabbed.
I jumped, grabbed a hanging pipe overhead, and swung forward. The pipe groaned. The metal brackets ripped free with a screech. The entire pipe dropped.
Right onto the heavy unit's head.
The clanging echo was glorious.
The machine didn't fall.
It didn't even sway.
It just froze for one second, processing the insult delivered by a decades-old piece of rusty plumbing.
And I laughed.
I actually laughed.
Cadence said, "This is not the time for amusement."
"It hit him right on the face."
"The model has no face."
"It's where the face should or would be."
The machine snapped out of its pause and charged again. Faster this time. Determined.
Battery: 61 %.
I dove behind a control pillar. The machine tore straight through it like it was made of paper. Debris exploded outward. Dust clouded the room.
A heavy hand burst through the dust, reaching for my torso.
I grabbed a broken cable from the floor, jammed the sparking end into the machine's exposed panel, and twisted.
The machine jerked like someone tried to jumpstart an elephant.
Its optics flickered violently.
Cadence yelled, "Iris. Now. Use the opening."
I kicked the dented joint again. Hard enough to send a vibration up my leg.
The metal bent inward.
The machine staggered.
Half a stumble.
Enough.
I lunged and drove both hands into the opening I'd made earlier. My fingers closed around a cluster of cables and internal components that looked way too important to leave functioning.
I ripped.
The machine screamed.
Not a human scream.
A mechanical howl. Grinding. Glitching.
But it stayed standing.
Battery: 57 %.
The Model 40 straightened, smoke rising from its damaged torso, and swatted me with its remaining arm. The blow hit like a sledgehammer.
"Cadence," I groaned. "Tell me something helpful."
Her voice flickered and doubled, glitching. "Processing. Interference high. I. Am. Attempting stabilization."
"You better. I need you."
The machine lumbered toward me.
Its footsteps shook the floor.
Battery: 55 %.
I rose, braced, and readied myself.
Cadence's voice sharpened suddenly, cutting through static. "Iris. If you can lure it backward two meters to your right, its weight will collapse the maintenance decking."
"You said not to go near the pit."
"That was earlier."
"You're very inconsistent."
"Correct. Now move."
The Model 40 charged.
I ran.
Straight past the weak flooring.
The machine followed.
The metal beneath it groaned.
Bent.
Snapped.
The floor collapsed under the heavy unit. It dropped halfway into the hole, arms flailing, servos grinding as it tried to pull itself free.
This was my opening.
And I took it.
I sprinted forward and jumped, driving both feet into its head with every ounce of force I had left.
The machine fell.
Straight into the darkness.
And I fell with it.
Because of course I did.