Metro Maintenance Tunnel → Elevator Shaft
Marcus's clamp hovered half an inch from my throat.
Pupils needle-thin, like a snake locking on prey.
"Last chance, Kai." Low laugh, copper wires glinting in his gums. "Where's the Orchid?"
Fuck! I am the Orchid? He didn't buy it.
I sucked air, titanium in my left arm groaning tight—
Not dodging. Ramming!
Shoulder slamming his sternum!
Ghk! He staggered back, clamp clattering to the floor.
I rolled, sprinting for the tunnel's end—iron door ajar, rust bleeding down its frame.
Marcus roared: "Stop him!"
Reanimated flooded in!
Fat cook leading, pupils flickering, throat clicking.
I shouldered through—
Behind me, BANG! Door slammed.
I threw the bolt—rust sheared halfway!
Fuck!
Door thudded, reanimated pounding.
I turned, gasping—
Not a room.
An elevator shaft.
Bottomless.
Emergency reds washed the walls, illuminating hanging cables—like a beast's ribs.
Black below. Not even echoes returned.
Above—click.
I snapped up—
Elevator car descending!
Five meters from my head.
Gap in the floor—brass vertical pupils glowing.
Fuck! AI maintenance tech!
Car thudded level with me.
Doors creaked open a slit—
Shadow lunged!
Not human.
Joints inverted, fingers sprouting bone blades—ivory-white, serrated, like rib bones honed.
Slashing for my carotid!
I dropped, rolling—blade grazing my throat—wind shear cutting skin, stinging.
Doors fully open. Tech stood there, oil-stained coveralls, face waxen—
Under lids, pupils contracting.
"Subject Kai Lin…" Static voice squeezed from his throat. "…fear peak: 96.8%… optimizing…"
Pounding intensified.
Door groaning, rust sifting onto my shoulders.
No way out.
I lunged for the cable—
Hands grabbing, rust powder sifting into palms—prickling, slick.
Titanium screaming in my arm scar.
Car doors slammed!
Tech lunged—
Blade driving for my spine!
I kicked off the wall, swinging wide—
Blade scraped my waist—hiss! Tac-suit shredded, skin stinging.
Car descended!
Cable hummed taut, vibrating my palms.
Fuck! It was taking me down!
I released my left hand, groped my waist—half a knife left.
Hurled it—
Target: car's inspection hatch.
CLANG!
Blade jammed the frame.
I swung back, right foot kicking the car wall—
BANG!
Body arced toward the opposite wall.
Hand grabbed another cable!
Car kept sinking. I hung mid-shaft, legs swinging.
Condensation drip… drip… down my neck—cold, slick, mixing sweat into old wounds.
Tech burst out the roof!
Flipped down the cable, blade reversed, gliding silent, blur-fast.
Three meters… two…
He struck!
Blade jabbing for my eye!
I dodged—
Blade grazed my cheekbone, slitting a line, blood welling.
Left hand snatched his wrist—
Cold, slick, joints silent.
"Fuck your ancestors!" I roared, right leg driving for his chest!
He didn't retreat.
Blade angled, slashing my neck!
I arched back—too slow.
Blade bit three inches deep!
No blood spray.
Only pale blue gel oozing—cold, almond-scented—Cu-Cluster suspension fluid.
Fuck! Cervical dislocation!
Vision darkening, titanium screaming in my arm.
Tech grinned, wax face splitting—copper wires flashing in gums: "…pain feedback… 99%… acceptable…"
Pounding stopped.
Silence.
Car thudded the basement.
Doors opened.
Red light spilled in—illuminating the tech's neck:
Pineal bulge, copper ring protruding, hissing blue gel.
Cu-Cluster flaw #5: Wounds seep blue gel, not blood.
I panted, left hand still gripping his wrist.
Blood and blue mixing, dripping down—
Blood fuzzy-edged, gel sharp-edged.
38 seconds vs. no clotting.
Tech's throat pulsed: "…terminate… autonomy…"
Blade pressed deeper—
I yanked my left hand free, fingers diving for his copper ring!
Thumb jammed the seam—
Click!
Ring loosened half a millimeter.
He froze.
Pupils flickering.
Now.
I kicked off the wall, twisting mid-air—
Left hand yanking his wrist, swinging him full-circle into the cable!
CRASH—!!!
His head slammed steel—
Cervical crack dislocated, face twisting 180 degrees against his spine.
Like Mrs. Chen.
But he didn't fall.
Blade still at my throat.
Throat clicking, voice glitching: "…calibrating… 99.2%…"
Fuck! 99.2%? Rhea's reading!
Basement reds flashed—
Reanimated flooded in!
Fat cook leading, pupils locking on me.
Tech's blade pressed—
Airway closing.
I stared at his twisted face—
Sclera flickered cloudy.
Like a glitching screen.
"Cook!" I roared, voice tearing. "Red-bean buns—less sugar!"
Tech froze.
T-48:50.
Minute Ten: complete.
Blade still at my throat.
But in my palm—
Half a loosened copper ring.
Thanks for following! Did your hand sweat when Kai gripped that copper ring? ⚙️
Comment "⚙️"—1 winner gets a Hydraulic Clamp Takedown Breakdown (trauma surgeon notes)!
T-48:50. Only 48 minutes to go. #Chrono60