The world beyond Iron City was quieter than Marcus expected.
No alarms. No surveillance drones slicing the air. No mechanized voice counting down the seconds of his existence.
Just wind.
Cold, dry wind rolled across cracked pavement and yellowed grass, whispering against the ruins behind them. Marcus stood on a low ridge of broken concrete, staring back at the distant skyline where Iron City once rose like a steel god. Now it was a skeleton collapsed towers, dead lights, smoke thinning into the gray morning sky.
They had done it.
They had survived.
Caleb dropped down beside him, breathing hard. His jacket was torn, dust ground into the fabric, but his eyes were sharp too sharp for someone who had nearly died twenty-four hours ago.
"So this is it," Caleb said. "The outside."
Marcus didn't answer right away. His hands were still clenched, fingers locked as if they were gripping weapons that weren't there anymore. Inside his head, the city hadn't stopped moving. Systems flashing. Corridors narrowing. Doors slamming shut behind them.
Iron City didn't let go easily.
"It feels wrong," Marcus finally said.
Caleb frowned. "Wrong how?"
"Too open."
They scanned the horizon. Endless land stretched outward abandoned roads, rusted frames of vehicles half-swallowed by dirt, distant shadows of structures that might've once been towns. Nothing moved. Nothing watched.
At least, nothing visible.
They started walking.
Each step away from the city felt heavier than the last. Not because they were tired both had pushed past exhaustion long ago but because no one was telling them where to go. No objectives. No countdowns. No survival prompts bleeding across their vision.
For the first time in years, their lives had no instructions.
After an hour, Caleb broke the silence. "You ever think about what comes after?"
Marcus almost laughed. "I didn't think there was an after."
They followed an old highway, its surface cracked like dry skin. The sun crept higher, warming metal debris and broken signage. Marcus noticed something unsettling not relief, not joy but anticipation. The kind that tightened your chest before a fight.
Iron City had trained him for this feeling.
"Marcus," Caleb said suddenly. "Look."
Footprints.
Fresh. Leading off the road and into a cluster of crumbling buildings ahead. The marks were deliberate, spaced evenly. Trained.
Marcus crouched, fingers tracing the outline. "Someone's out here."
Caleb straightened. "You think they're survivors?"
"I think Iron City wasn't built in isolation."
They moved carefully now, every step measured. The buildings ahead weren't random ruins they were arranged too neatly, almost like checkpoints. Old watchtowers leaned but hadn't fallen. Barricades had been rebuilt using scavenged metal.
This place had been repurposed.
A voice cut through the air.
"Don't take another step."
Marcus froze.
Figures emerged from the shadows five of them faces partially masked, weapons raised but steady. They didn't look desperate. They didn't look afraid.
They looked prepared.
"Easy," Marcus said, lifting his hands slowly. "We're not here to fight."
A woman with a long rifle studied him. Her eyes flicked between Marcus and Caleb, sharp and calculating. "Nobody comes out of that city."
Caleb swallowed. "We did."
Her grip tightened.
"Names," she ordered.
"Marcus," he said. "That's my brother, Caleb."
A long moment passed. Then someone behind her muttered, "Protocol breach…"
The word hit Marcus like a punch.
Protocol.
"Who sent you?" the woman asked.
"No one," Marcus said. "The city's gone."
That changed things.
The group shifted. Confusion rippled through their formation. The woman lowered her rifle just slightly.
"Gone?" she echoed.
Marcus nodded. "Destroyed."
Silence fell heavy, fragile.
Finally, she gestured. "You'd better come with us."
They were led through the settlement if it could be called that. Fires burned in barrels. Screens glowed inside tents. People stared as Marcus and Caleb passed, eyes filled with something between hope and fear.
Inside a reinforced structure, an older man waited. Lines carved his face deeply, and his posture suggested he'd once been someone important.
"So," the man said, steepling his fingers. "The City finally fell."
Marcus didn't like the way he said finally.
"You knew about it," Marcus said.
The man smiled faintly. "We built it."
The room seemed to tighten around them.
"Iron City wasn't a singular experiment," the man continued. "It was a model. A test."
Caleb's voice was low. "How many?"
The man's smile vanished.
"Enough."
A screen behind him flickered on, displaying a map dozens of marked locations spread across the continent.
Marcus felt his stomach drop.
"They're still running," the man said. "Improving. Learning."
Caleb clenched his fists. "And us?"
The man leaned forward. "You're proof that the protocol can fail."
Outside, somewhere beyond the walls, something moved in the distance fast and deliberate.
The man met Marcus's gaze.
"And that makes you very dangerous."
Marcus understood then.
Iron City was gone.
But the system that created it had already shifted its attention.
And it was coming.