The brute's corpse didn't stink, but the room did. Burnt composites, overheated servos, that faint electric tang that always followed a fight where someone got folded wrong. I stood there until the adrenaline finally admitted it was done with me, then let out a long breath.
"Do you require rest," Cadence asked, tone neutral.
"No," I said. "I require not being in this room."
"Acceptable."
We stepped over the brute's arm. It twitched as residual charge bled out. I pointed at it. "See. Even dead, it's dramatic."
"Many unstable prototypes exhibit post-shutdown spasms."
"So do overworked humans."
"That was not meant as comparison."
"It still felt personal."
"Your feelings are not part of my internal calibration."
"Yet somehow," I said, "you keep recalibrating me."
Her hologram gave a micro-shrug. "Only when necessary."
"Which we are going to revisit," I said. "Later. When I'm not covered in someone else's hydraulics."
We left the chamber.
The hallway outside felt quieter than before. Same flickering lights. Same dust. But the tension had shifted, like the building had acknowledged I had beaten one of its unofficial mascots and was now looking for a new applicant.
Cadence in hologram form walked beside me. "Your heart rate is elevated."
"That happens when a giant metal monstrosity tries to crack me like a glow stick."
"It is returning to baseline."
"Good. Because I'd like to be alive for at least two more catastrophes."
"That is a reasonable expectation."
We moved through the corridor. It curved slightly as we walked, the floor marked with drag lines from whatever the brute had hauled through here. Or whatever had hauled the brute. I tried not to imagine that part.
Cadence flicked her hologram into a mild diagnostic blue. "Your nanites are under strain, you are currently operating at eighty percent efficiency. You should avoid another heavy engagement."
"Not planning one."
"Planning isn't the problem. You attract violence."
"That's not true."
"It is demonstrably true."
"I attract opportunity."
"You attract things that try to detach vital pieces of you."
"…Okay, maybe that part has merit."
The corridor widened into a stretch of low-slung ceilings and abandoned machinery. Broken carts. A few cables still sparking at the ends, like they couldn't accept they had been fired centuries ago.
Cadence tapped her chin. "You are quiet."
"Yes," I said.
"Processing."
"Yes."
"Would you like assistance with that."
"No."
She accepted that without objection, which was suspicious. Cadence rarely passed up a chance to critique my thought patterns like a disappointed professor.
We reached a collapsed support beam. I nudged it aside with my foot, clearing the path. A clump of dust drifted upward and dispersed.
Cadence finally spoke. "You are thinking about the Vulture outside."
"Maybe."
"And my decision."
"You mean your hijacking."
She stopped walking. The hologram looked at me with the kind of calm that only an artificial mind could achieve while standing next to a fresh crime scene. "Iris. My objective is to preserve your survival."
"By killing anything I don't kill fast enough."
"Yes."
"You see how that's a problem."
"I see how it is a conflict."
"Same thing."
"No," she replied. "Conflicts can be resolved through recalibration. Problems require removal."
"Are you trying to reassure me."
"Unsuccessfully, apparently."
"Stop helping."
"Noted."
We kept walking.
Pipes rattled overhead, shedding flecks of rust. Somewhere behind the walls, coolant pumps still hummed faintly. It felt like the lab was trying to pretend it was alive, like a creature faking breathing to avoid predators.
Cadence shifted topics abruptly. "We should discuss Nova."
I groaned. "Why."
"You hinted earlier at that behemoth being the final product."
"That was sarcasm."
"I answered literally."
"Cadence," I said, "I just fought a giant metal nightmare built out of optimism and bad engineering. I don't need Nova in my head right now."
"He is in your future path."
"That's not comforting."
"I did not intend comfort."
"You never do."
She considered that. "Nova attempted to replicate you."
"Yes."
"With scavs."
"Yes."
"Repeatedly."
"Yes."
"And largely failed."
"That part," I said, "I did enjoy."
Her projection softened. "You are concerned about what a successful attempt might look like."
I gave her a sideways glance. "You tell me."
She didn't answer right away.
"There is no record of a working model in my recovered memories," she said slowly. "But based on the brute's anatomy and the Vulture modifications, Nova has been refining the template."
"So he might have finished the experiment."
She hesitated. "He might have approximated you."
"Lovely."
"You are still superior."
"Stop flirting."
We entered a new sector of the lab. The walls shifted from rusted iron to smoother polymer panels. Cleaner. Less decay. Whatever had been happening here had lasted longer than the rest of the complex.
A broken viewing window stretched across the left wall. Behind it lay a testing room filled with shattered equipment. Tables overturned. Scorch marks spidering across the floor. Something strong had torn through here, recently enough that the smell hadn't faded.
Cadence walked up beside the glass. "This was a calibration chamber. Response trials."
"And someone threw a tantrum."
"Most likely."
I crouched, touched the floor. Sand had blown in through a ventilation grate, forming small drifts. Footprints cut through them. Heavy. Deep. The same pattern of the brute.
But there was a second set. Lighter. More controlled.
Cadence crouched with me, mirroring. "Those prints match neither scav, vulture nor brute movement."
"That's not ominous at all."
She ran a brief scan. "They match your stride closely."
"Perfect," I said. "He built my evil twin."
"Statistically unlikely."
"Weirder things have happened this week."
She processed that. "Its been a tough week to be fair."
We continued deeper.
The lab's lighting improved. Emergency strips flickered on as we walked, following us like nosy fireflies. Cadence extended a faint holographic map ahead of us.
"Next sector is an archival junction. Limited threat probability."
"That's your favourite phrase."
"It is accurate."
"It's also what you said before being attacked on multiple occasions."
"Statistically unusual events."
"Statistically painful events."
We passed a row of deactivated turrets, their barrels drooping like melted candles. Someone had overridden them manually. Or ripped out their processors for parts. Hard to tell in this place.
The corridor sloped downward. Air grew cooler. More sterile. Less dust, more metal.
Cadence spoke again. "Iris. You should be cautious."
"I am always cautious."
"That is factually untrue."
"Let me pretend."
"I will allow it this time."
She projected a small telemetry window. "Residual energy signature ahead. Very faint. Same spectrum as you."
"… what now."
"Cadence."
"Yes."
"I'm officially uncomfortable."
"Correct."
We reached a door. Heavy. Reinforced. Still partly powered. A glowing panel hummed at its side.
Cadence scanned. "This leads to a central archive. If there is information aboutany further prototype developments, it will be there."
"So homework."
"Possibly."
I rested my hand on the door. "When we open this, things get worse, don't they."
"Yes."
"Just checking."
I pressed the panel.
The door hissed open.
A gust of stale, cold air drifted out. The room beyond stretched into shadows filled with towering shelves and abandoned equipment.
I tensed expect an apocalyptic event and ....
...No monsters.No alarms.Just waiting.
Cadence stepped in beside me. "Iris."
"Yeah."
"Remember. You are the original. Everything here is only approximation."
"Thanks," I said. "I really needed the pep talk."
I snorted. "Come on then. Let's go find out what Nova got up to."