Ladders were never designed for people with mechanical hands and emotional baggage.
The rungs creaked under my weight as I climbed down, boots ringing softly against old metal. The light from above narrowed to a thin slice, then vanished when the hatch ground itself shut.
For a moment there was only the sound of my breathing and the faint hum of systems buried in the walls.
My HUD adjusted to the change in light. Vision Enhancement kicked in, painting the corridor below in pale outlines and washed out colour. Battery sat at a comfortable number in the corner.
Enough to get into trouble.
Not enough to get complacent.
The ladder ended in a small access bay. Low ceiling. Condensation clinging to pipes. The air tasted like dust and long dead disinfectant.
"Welcome to the basement," I muttered.
Cadence's voice echoed cleanly in my head, the signal steady now that we were away from the tower. "Sub-level maintenance corridor. This is not the primary lab. It is an annex. A throat leading to more interesting organs."
"Nice imagery."
"I am trying to be more relatable."
"That's not relatable."
I stepped off the ladder and into the corridor. The floor panels were scuffed but intact. Faded Voss markings still clung to the walls, half buried under grime. Someone had once cared enough to label everything. No one did anymore.
Cadence overlaid a faint map outline on my vision. "I can reconstruct partial schematics from residual data within lab network. Left leads to service storage. Right leads deeper."
"We are going deeper," I said.
"That was the obvious choice."
"Then why tell me."
"Because you demanded to be consulted."
I snorted and turned right.
The corridor sloped down at a slight angle. Flickering emergency strips lined the ceiling, alternating between almost functional and completely done with life. Every few metres another exposed bundle of cabling sagged from the wall like mechanical intestines.
"Power is being rerouted," Cadence said quietly. "Not by Voss systems. By something cruder."
"Vultures," I guessed.
"Likely," she said. "Nova repurposed what he could. Scavs are inefficient with tools but very enthusiastic."
A soft click sounded under my boot.
I froze.
"Cadence."
"Yes."
"Tell me that was nothing important."
"It was something important," she said.
"Of course it was."
I looked down. A pressure plate, almost invisible under the grime, sat depressed under my weight. Fine wires ran from it along the wall. Whoever had placed it had been smart enough not to rely on old Voss lines.
"Options," I said.
"Move your foot," Cadence suggested.
"That is usually how traps work, yes."
She scanned the wiring. "The activation charge runs to the ceiling. Not explosives. Release mechanism."
"For what."
"Please move your foot so I can confirm."
"You really need to work on selling your plans," I muttered.
I stepped off the plate and threw myself against the wall.
Something snapped overhead. A heavy metal frame swung down from the ceiling where it had been recessed and slammed into the floor where I had been standing a second earlier.
Weighted netting exploded outward, thick cables writhing, powered by small servos. The trap tried very hard to grab a cyborg that was no longer there.
It hit only air, then spasmed once and went still.
"Capture rig," Cadence said. "Blunt force neutralisation followed by restraint. No fragmentation. No kill intent."
"WOW," I said. "After the event ! Looks like they wish to capture, I feel honoured."
"They want subjects intact," she corrected. "Different priority."
I studied the rig. The frame was old metal, but the net had been patched and spliced with recently scavenged cable. A hybrid job. Like someone trying to mimic a design they only half understood.
We left the antiquated trap behind and continued.
The air grew cooler. The lighting stabilised. Somewhere ahead, unseen systems hummed with a little too much purpose.
Cadence murmured, "Multiple heat signatures ahead. Three. No, four. Stationary. They are waiting."
"Ambush," I said.
"Yes."
"I am getting nostalgic."
The corridor opened into a wider junction room. Four doorways led out, each marked with faded signage. Storage. Testing. Transit. One illegible.
And Vultures.
They crouched near the doorways, half hidden in shadow, their plating catching the dim light in uneven reflections. Each one was different. Different patchwork. Different ratios of flesh to metal. A different guess at what would be more efficient.
They rose as I entered.
Cadence tightened her focus. "Four Vulture units. Temperature profiles elevated. Tension high. All eyes on you."
"That makes a change," I said. "Usually I get shot at first."
They did not rush me. They spread out, forming a loose arc that cut me off from retreat.
"Do you see it," Cadence asked.
"See what."
"They are moving in synchronisation," she said. "Not random. They have been drilled. Someone has been teaching them tactics."
One of them stepped forward. Thin, elongated limbs, spine reinforced with metal, head encased in a crude visor. Its voice came out dry and scraped.
"Subject," it rasped. "Observe."
"Hard pass," I said.
It flicked its fingers.
Two Vultures rushed me at once, one going low, the other high. Not screaming. Not wild. Calculated.
I stepped back, then sideways. Low one aimed for my knees with a metal clamp. High one reached for my shoulders, its fingers tipped with injector ports.
"Cadence," I said.
"Capture protocol," she answered. "They are not trying to kill you. They want you immobilised."
"Of course they do."
I planted my foot, twisted, and drove my mechanical fist straight into the high one's chest. Servos and bone shattered together. It flew backward into the wall. I grabbed the low one by what passed for its collar and slammed its head into the floor.
Metal and skull made a wet sound I did not enjoy.
"Two," Cadence counted.
"Counting, again. Thought we went through this ?"
The third came from the side and managed to get a cable around my forearm. It yanked, trying to pull me off balance toward the fourth, who waited with arms spread, ready to clamp around my torso.
"Coordinated assault," Cadence muttered. "Limited imagination, but effective if target is surprised."
"I don't like surprises."
I braced my legs and heaved. The cable snapped. I swung the loose end around and wrapped it around the waiting Vulture's neck. It tried to recoil, but I kept moving, using the momentum to drag it forward.
We collided in the middle. It clawed at me with augmented hands. I let it, for half a second, just long enough to see what it was aiming for.
Not my throat. Not my heart.
The ports along my spine.
"They are going for your interface," Cadence said sharply. "They want you disabled, or me?"
"They can have you."
I drove my knee into its abdomen, then my elbow into its jaw. It dropped. I followed it down and slammed its head into the floor twice. It stopped moving.
The last Vulture hung back near the far doorway. It had more metal than flesh, a crooked frame like someone had started with a scav and then gradually replaced almost everything that made it human.
Its eyes locked onto my left arm. Onto the seamless mechanical join, the clean lines, the efficient movement.
It stared like it was looking at a god it had been built to worship.
"I do not like that look," I said.
Cadence agreed. "It recognises you as the template. Or at least some part of it does."
The Vulture turned and ran.
Not away.
Deeper.
"Iris," Cadence snapped. "It is retreating by design. Luring you further in."
"Yeah," I said. "I figured."
"Chase or disengage."
I looked down at the Vultures on the floor. Broken. Twisted. Bad copies of an experiment they never asked for.
"Chase," I said. "I am done letting Nova work unsupervised."
"I concur."
I sprinted after the fleeing Vulture, boots pounding the metal. It moved fast, running with an awkward but effective stride down a narrow access tunnel.
Panels on the walls had been torn away to expose cabling. Some had been shorted out deliberately. Someone wanted parts of this place dark.
Cadence tracked our progress. "We are moving into the inner test sectors. Power usage increases ahead. Something big is drawing current."
"The brute," I said.
"Probable."
The Vulture darted through a half-open security door. It slipped under a sparking panel and vanished into a larger chamber beyond.
I followed.
Cadence spoke in a low tone I almost did not recognise. "Iris. Before we go in, remember. These are imitations. You are not their failure. You are their proof."
"Of what."
"That the experiment worked."
"Tell that to the corpse outside," I said.
"I would," she replied. "But I doubt it will take any comfort from knowing."
I stepped through the doorway.
Lights hummed overhead. The room beyond was larger, broader, designed for things that needed space to move.
The fleeing Vulture had stopped at the far end.
It stood beside a massive containment frame bolted into the floor. Cables fed into it from six different directions. Hydraulic clamps held a shape inside the structure, half hidden by shadows.
A shape that moved.
Cadence's voice thinned. "Energy spike. Systems priming. Iris. That is not a prototype."
The clamps released with a sound like metal breaking its own neck.
The shape inside unfolded.
Taller than the Model Forty. Broader. Its limbs were wrapped in layered plating. Multiple actuators lined each joint. Red optics flared to life above a reinforced jaw.
The Vulture models had been experiments.
This thing was a statement.
"The Brute," Cadence said softly. "Nova's latest attempt at you. Strongest one yet."
"Of course it is."
The brute turned its head toward me. Its gaze lingered. It did not roar. It did not posture.
It stepped forward.
One step.
Then another.
The floor shook.
My HUD flickered a minor caution about structural vibration. Battery hovered steady. Muscles coiled.
"Cadence," I said.
"Yes."
"You remember what you said earlier. About me fighting as myself."
"I do."
"Good," I said. "Because I want this one."
"Understood."
The brute lowered its shoulders.
I set my feet. And ran at each other...