The next night , three Disassembly Drones cut through the pale sky above Outpost 203.
J led the formation, V right on her wing, while N trailed behind like an afterthought. The coordinates J had ripped out of that worker drone pointed straight to this sector — specifically to a hulking, half-collapsed factory building that squatted in the distance like a rotting tooth.
J's plan was brutally simple: drop onto the roof, punch through, and wipe the place clean.
Armed workers? Unarmed workers? Didn't matter.
What could a handful of oil-stained nobodies possibly do against the company's finest murder machines? Against her? V was almost as good, which was good enough. They'd finish this in minutes.
N could stay in the back and take notes. Maybe he'd learn something for once.
Far below, tucked between shattered concrete and twisted rebar, a single worker drone watched them glide overhead. His visor flickered.
He pressed a thumb against the side of his helmet and spoke low into the comms.
"Commander Vex. Targets are on approach. Three units, just like you said."
A calm, gravelly voice answered almost instantly.
"Good. Signal the others. Full readiness.
We hunt tonight… and remember — alive. Not scrap."
"Understood, sir."
The worker's fingers danced across his wrist panel.
A ripple of short affirmation pings came back from every corner of the factory.
Pistons hissed. Welding torches snapped to life.
Magazine clicks echoed down dark corridors. They were ready for the operation.
When they arrived at the location, J said to V, "You and I will go down and break in through the roof and take them out. It won't be a difficult challenge." She turned to N and said, "You stay behind and keep watch. Don't mess this up, understand?"
"Okay, J," N replied with a smile, adding, "You can count on me. I won't mess this up."
J rolled her eyes and said, "Come on, V, let's finish this."
J and V broke into the factory through the roof, landed on the ground, and extended their claws. An X appeared on each of their screens, indicating their readiness to hunt. But what surprised them was that the place was empty. There wasn't a single worker inside the factory.
"This is strange. We always hear screams when we go in," V said, surprised. She looked at J, who was standing next to her, and asked, "Are you sure this is the right place?"
"I'm sure of it," J replied irritably.
"So the place isn't empty, J, huh?" V said, crossing her arms.
"Don't you dare speak to me like that," J raised a finger at V and continued, "When I say something, I'm sure of it. I don't..."
"I don't make mistakes. I'm perfect J; I've never made a mistake in my life," V continued. "Yes... yes, I know that, but as you can see, Commander J, the place is completely empty."
J opened her mouth and then closed it. She knew that talking to V wasn't like talking to N. She tried to control her temper and said, with anger etched on her face, "Let's go. Staying here seems like a waste of our time."
Before they could even reach the exit, the entire factory detonated.
A deafening roar ripped through the night as black-orange flames swallowed the building whole, the shockwave hurling twisted metal and burning debris high into the snowy sky.
N's visor widened in pure horror. His core lurched—he wanted to dive straight into the inferno, to search for them, terrified that this time the explosion had finally been enough. But then, through the swirling smoke and fire, he saw shapes moving.
V and J emerged from the rubble like nightmares pulling themselves back together. Cracked plating peeled away and melted back into place. Severed limbs twitched, then reattached with sickening metallic snaps. Their yellow eyes glowed brighter than the flames around them.
N let out a shaky, relieved breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "They're… okay. They're okay."
The moment they finished regenerating, V and J snapped their wings open and shot upward, cutting through the smoke.
N flew to meet them, voice cracking. "Are you guys alright? What happened down there?!"
J spun on him mid-air, optics blazing with fury. "What did you think would happen, you walking liability? It was a trap! A very obvious, very pathetic little Worker trap—and we still walked right into it!"
Before N could answer, the night exploded again—this time with gunfire.
"First, Second, and Third squads—engage!" Commander Vex's voice crackled cold and certain over every soldier's comms.
Bullets came from everywhere at once. Tracers stitched blazing red lines through the darkness—north, east, west—converging on the three Disassembly Drones like a cage of light and lead.
The air itself seemed to scream.
For a heartbeat, N, V, and J just hung there, stunned by the sheer volume. Then instinct took over. Wings snapped wide. They folded their arms in front of their faces as their metallic flight feathers locked into shield mode, deflecting the worst of the barrage in showers of sparks.
Five minutes of unrelenting fire later, the shooting finally died away. Spent casings rained down onto the snow like brass snowflakes.
"Good," Vex's voice came again, calm. "Everyone, return to assigned positions. They're exactly where we want them."
J lowered her wings first, yellow X flickering dangerously across her visor. "Three directions. They're trying to box us in." She glanced at the other two. "We split up. Each takes a vector. We hunt them down before they can regroup."
V's claws slid out with a soft shink. The X on her display burned bright. A slow, dangerous smile spread across her face. "Finally. Some real resistance. This hunt just got interesting."
N opened his mouth, then closed it again. He glanced down.
Sol stood in the snow far below, staring straight up at him and slowly shook his head—no. Don't go. Don't do this.
N's hands tightened at his sides. His tail drooped. "Uh… guys? Maybe… maybe we shouldn't split up this time."
Both V and J turned to stare at him like he'd grown a second head.
J's voice dropped to a venomous hiss. "You have got to be kidding me. We're getting shot at from three sides and you want a group hug?" She snapped her wings wider. "If you freeze up and get me killed, I swear I'll rip every single one of your wires out and use them to decorate my next victim. Move. Now."
V didn't even bother looking back. "Last one with the lowest body count is a loser," she called cheerfully, already banking hard toward the east, claws gleaming.
J shot N one last withering glare—half warning, half disgust—then rocketed north without another word.
N hesitated a second longer, staring after them. Then he forced his wings open and turned west, the direction no one else had claimed.
Far below, hidden beneath a collapsed wall and a thick drift of snow, a Worker with binoculars tracked their flight paths.
"Commander Vex," he whispered into his comm. "The targets have separated. I repeat—they've split up."
A short, satisfied pause.
"Perfect," Vex replied, voice almost gentle. "Everything is proceeding exactly as planned."
The soldier swallowed. "Sir… the one called N—he wasn't inside the factory when it went up."
"I know," Vex said simply. "That's fine. We can deal with the soft-hearted one later." His tone sharpened. "The other two just walked straight into the killbox. All teams—execute Phase Two. Let's show these murder machines what real hunters look like."
In the distance, the wind carried the faint metallic click of heavy weaponry being primed.
And somewhere in the dark, Commander Vex smiled.
As V streaked through the pale sky toward her assigned sector, she caught a flash of movement below—a lone Worker Drone darting toward an abandoned, half-collapsed building. Her optics narrowed with delight. A manic grin split her faceplate as she flexed her razor-sharp claws.
" Oh, this is gonna be fun".
She banked hard and dove, wings slicing the air with a low whine. Laughter bubbled out of her—sharp, unhinged, and hungry—as she closed the distance. She could already picture it: limbs flying, oil spraying, the sweet little screams these cowards always made when they realized running was pointless.
She slammed through a shattered window into total darkness. The interior was pitch black, thick with dust and the smell of rust.
V flicked on her night vision; the world shifted to cold greens and grays. Fresh footprints glowed faintly on the filthy floor, leading deeper inside.
"Pathetic. They think hiding in the dark will save them?"
She followed the trail with lazy confidence, tail swaying behind her. These Workers were always the same—cowardly, predictable, easy prey. Even if they fought back, it just made the game more entertaining. She'd torn through hundreds like this. Nothing ever changed.
The footprints ended abruptly in the middle of a wide, open room. Two doorways: one behind her (the way she'd come), one straight ahead. No more tracks. Just scattered debris and silence.
V tilted her head, amused. "Really? That's your big plan?"
Then a voice barked from the shadows—
"FIRE!"
A Worker burst from beneath a pile of rubble, arm raised in command.
The room exploded into chaos.
Gunfire erupted from every direction—front, back, left, right—like a storm of hot lead. Bullets hammered against her plating in a deafening roar. For the first split-second, V was actually stunned.
Then instinct kicked in.
Her wings snapped forward, locking into shield mode with a metallic clang. Sparks flew as rounds ricocheted off the reinforced feathers. She crouched low, buying time to think.
"Wings deployed," one of the Workers reported coolly over their comms. "Just like we planned."
V snarled. "Cute trick—"
The floor beneath her detonated.
A massive blast ripped upward in a blinding flash of orange and shrapnel.
The shockwave hurled her sideways; pain sensors screamed as her legs were shredded. When the smoke cleared, she tried to stand—and collapsed.
Her legs were gone. Completely severed at the thighs. No regeneration. No familiar tingle of nanites knitting metal back together. Nothing.
"What the—?" she hissed, visor flickering in disbelief.
"She can't regenerate," a Worker's voice noted from the darkness, almost clinical.
Rage boiled over. V's arms snapped up, both hands morphing into machine guns in an instant. She opened fire blindly, spraying rounds into the shadows. Oil-black silhouettes dropped—one, two, three.
She lunged backward with what was left of her mobility, wings flapping desperately for lift.
"Fall back! She's retreating—box her in!" another Worker shouted.
The remaining squad poured it on. Bullets chewed the air around her.
V twisted, trying to dodge, but without legs she was too slow, too grounded. Her speed—her greatest weapon—was gone.
Desperate, she raised one arm skyward. A missile streaked from her forearm, slamming into the ceiling. Concrete shattered. The roof caved in a thunderous cascade, and V rocketed upward through the hole, aiming for the second floor.
She almost made it.
Four anti-air missiles slammed into her mid-flight. The impacts tore through her torso, ripped away one wing, shredded her core housing. She crashed hard onto the upper level, body smoking, sparks raining from mangled circuits.
Regeneration failed again. Systems red-lined. Critical damage everywhere.
A Worker stepped forward cautiously.
V's remaining arm lashed out like lightning. Her blade extended and drove straight through his visor with a sickening crunch. He dropped without a sound.
"How is she still fighting after that?" one of the others whispered, voice shaking.
"Doesn't matter," another replied, steady. "Orders were clear: take her alive. Hit her with the stunners."
Three weighted nets fired from different angles. They wrapped around her in a tangle of steel cables. Electricity surged through each one—white-hot arcs dancing across her frame.
V's body convulsed once, twice… then went limp. Her optics dimmed to faint yellow pinpricks before winking out completely.
"Target Serial Designation V has been secured," the squad leader reported into his comms, voice tight with adrenaline. "I repeat—V is down and in custody."
Commander Vex's calm reply came almost immediately. "Excellent work. Bring her to the holding site. Intact."
He paused, then added, "Second squad—what's your status?"
"Sir, Serial Designation J is approaching our position. ETA less than two minutes."
"Good," Vex said, a faint edge of satisfaction in his tone. "Engage immediately. Don't give her time to think. Hit her hard and fast."
J tore through the night sky, scanning the frozen wasteland below with cold, methodical precision. Her optics swept back and forth, hunting for any sign of the Workers who had dared to spring that pathetic trap at the factory. Her tail flicked irritably. They were going to pay—slowly.
Then the sky lit up.
Four missiles streaked toward her from four different directions, converging like the jaws of a trap snapping shut.
J twisted mid-air, wings flaring for maximum agility. She rolled left, then right, narrowly dodging the first two. The third grazed her left wing, shearing off half the leading edge in a shower of sparks and torn metal. The fourth slammed into her right leg, the explosion ripping the limb clean off at the thigh.
She plummeted.
The impact with the snow-packed ground was brutal—hard enough to crater the earth and send a plume of white powder exploding outward.
J hit and rolled, pain sensors screaming, but she forced herself up almost immediately.
Before she could fully process what had happened, they were on her.
Workers poured from every shadow—dozens of them—forming a tightening ring. Gunfire erupted instantly, a wall of lead hammering her from all sides.
J snarled and snapped her remaining wing forward, trying to shield herself like she always did. Nothing happened. No familiar tingle of regeneration. No metal crawling back into place. The stump of her leg leaked thick black oil onto the snow.
"What the hell is this?" J said
She staggered backward, optics wide with something dangerously close to panic. The gunfire was relentless—too much, too fast. Every step forward cost her another chunk of plating.
She broke and sprinted for the nearest ruined building, half-collapsed concrete walls offering at least some cover. Bullets chewed the ground behind her, stitching lines of fire across her back.
She made it behind a slab of fallen masonry and dropped low.
Breathing hard (or the drone equivalent), she morphed her right hand into a missile launcher and her left into a submachine gun. No time to think. Just kill.
She popped up and fired.
The missile streaked out and detonated among a cluster of Workers—three went down in a spray of limbs and oil. Her SMG barked next, short controlled bursts dropping four more before they could scatter.
For a heartbeat she felt the old confidence flicker back.
Then a calm voice cut through the chaos over their comms:
"Missiles. Now."
Five more rockets screamed in from elevated positions—anti-armor warheads, not the lighter ones they'd used before.
The barrage hit her cover like a hammer.
The explosion was blinding. The concrete slab shattered. J was hurled backward, body tumbling through the air in a broken arc. She crashed hard, visor cracked, one arm mangled, torso torn open to exposed wiring and sparking internals.
Still, she tried to rise.
Through the fractured display, she saw a single Worker step forward—cautious, but steady. He raised a bulky stun device, its prongs crackling with blue-white electricity.
J lunged, claws extending—
Too late.
The discharge hit her square in the chest.
Current surged through every circuit. Her body locked rigid, then convulsed violently. Optics flickered wildly before going dark.
She collapsed face-first into the snow.
Silence fell, broken only by the hiss of cooling metal and the soft crunch of boots approaching.
"Sir," the squad leader reported, voice steady but edged with adrenaline, "target Serial Designation J has been secured. I repeat—J is down and in custody."
Commander Vex's reply came almost instantly, calm as ever.
"Good. How long did the engagement take?"
"Three minutes, sir," the Worker answered. "She never got a chance to regroup."
A faint note of satisfaction colored Vex's voice.
"Excellent. Bring her to the holding site. Intact."
He switched channels without pause.
"Third squad—report."
"Sir, Serial Designation N is approaching our position now. ETA thirty seconds."
Vex didn't hesitate.
"Change of orders, soldier. You are cleared to terminate. Priority was always capturing the other two alive. N is expendable."
"Understood, sir," the squad leader replied, voice hardening. "Weapons hot."
As N flew through the cold night sky, his mind was elsewhere. He was supposed to be scanning the ruins below for any sign of Worker Drones, but he kept catching himself drifting. Not to J. Not to V. To Sol.
The last time… he helped me. Guided me straight to where the Workers were hiding. But I never asked how he even knew…
Before he could finish the thought, a sniper round cracked through the air and slammed into his shoulder.
N jerked in surprise, spinning mid-air. He traced the bullet's path back through the darkness and spotted the shooter—a lone Worker crouched among the rubble, rifle still smoking.
N dove toward the position, claws out, ready to end it.
When he landed, the spot was empty.
"Great…" he muttered to himself, tail drooping. "Can't even catch one Worker…"
The ground beneath him erupted.
The explosion threw him sideways in a blinding flash of fire and debris. N hit the ground hard, rolling through snow and twisted metal. When the smoke cleared, he was mostly intact—only a few scorched plates and dents—but the shock still rattled his systems.
Before he could stand, six more sniper rounds came in from different angles. Two hit his visor, cracking it. One tore through his right hand. Another ripped into his leg.
He snapped his wings forward instinctively, deflecting the rest in a shower of sparks.
"Wings deployed," a calm voice reported over their comms. "Focus fire on the target."
Workers poured from the shadows, surrounding him in seconds. Bullets and missiles rained down in a relentless storm.
N fought back, claws flashing, trying to break through the circle—but something was wrong. His regeneration was sluggish. Too slow.
What the—? Glitch? Or…
The volume of fire gave him no time to think. He snapped his wings wide and tried to lift off.
Sniper rounds shredded his flight feathers. He dropped like a stone, crashing a short distance away.
He scrambled up and bolted toward the nearest ruined building. Even he knew fighting in the open like this was suicide—especially when half-broken.
"He's heading for that structure! Pursue!"
N ducked inside, pressed against a crumbling wall, and morphed his good hand into a pistol. He leaned out and fired, dropping two Workers before they could close in.
"The target's resisting. Launch missiles—now."
"Sir, we only have seven left," one Worker replied.
"Use them all," the squad leader snapped. "Commander Vex authorized termination."
Seven anti-armor missiles streaked toward the building.
The blast was apocalyptic.
The entire structure collapsed in a roar of fire and dust. When the smoke finally settled, N lay in the wreckage—barely alive.
His right arm was gone. The left was mangled beyond recognition. His coat was shredded. Oil poured from multiple rents in his chassis. His vision flickered, barely functional.
He tried to stand. Collapsed. Tried again.
Through the haze of static, he saw a figure step forward.
Sol.
Black mask like a skull. Black cloak billowing in the wind. Staring down at him.
N gathered what little strength he had left.
"…Help… me… please…"
Darkness took him.
A Worker approached the crater cautiously.
"Area's clear. No body. Nothing."
The squad leader keyed his comms.
"Commander Vex, target is missing. No trace."
"What about remains?" Vex asked, voice level.
"Negative, sir. Looks like the blast vaporized him."
A short pause.
"Very well. Return to base."
"Sir… shouldn't we search the area?"
"No need, soldier. Even if he survived, what could a useless failure like him do? He's no threat compared to the other two."
"Understood, sir. All squads, fall back to base."
Later, back at command, Vex turned to the drone beside him.
"Casualty and expenditure report. Full summary."
The Worker straightened.
"First squad captured Serial Designation V eight minutes after the initial trap. Engagement lasted five minutes in confined space after severing her legs. Target secured alive. Losses: four drones. Ammunition expended: 15%."
"Second squad captured Serial Designation J nine minutes after the trap. Engagement lasted three minutes. No opportunity given to think. Target secured alive. Losses: seven drones. Ammunition: 20%."
"Third squad engaged Serial Designation N separately. He was not in the factory trap. Secondary ambush initiated. Target suffered heavy damage, resisted briefly, then building destroyed with seven anti-armor missiles. No body recovered. Engagement time: four minutes. Ammunition: 25%."
Vex's optics narrowed slightly.
"And the special weapon?
Anti-nanotherite expenditure?"
"45% used across both major detonations, sir."
"Acceptable. The result is what matters." He gestured. "Prepare the interrogation chambers for the two captives. Apply magnetic restraints. We don't want them getting… restless."
"Understood, sir." The Worker saluted sharply.
Far away, in a derelict building that looked like it might once have been a hotel, N lay on an old, sagging bed in a shattered room.
His body had slowly regenerated—painfully, piece by piece.
When consciousness returned, he groaned.
"…Ugh… what happened… my head…"
After a moment, his systems replayed the last few minutes in brutal clarity.
He bolted upright, frantically checking himself.
"…My arm… my body… how…?"
He looked around the ruined room, confused how he'd even gotten here. Then he shook his head.
"J… V… oh no, I have to warn them. J's gonna be so mad if she finds out I—"
"Don't bother," a quiet voice said.
"They've already been captured."
N whipped around.
Sol sat on a broken chair across from him.
"What?" N stared, stunned.
Sol stood slowly.
"You heard me. They've been taken."
"You… you can talk?" N's voice rose. "Since when? How? Why didn't you tell me before?!"
Silence stretched for a long moment.
Sol tilted his head.
"Yes. I can speak. But that's not important right now. What are you going to do about your teammates?"
N shook his head in disbelief.
"No way. There's no way they could catch J and V that easily. Sure, the Workers had weapons, but—"
"You remember what happened to you, don't you?" Sol interrupted gently. "The same thing happened to them. Except… they wanted you dead. Not captured."
"Why?" N asked, voice small.
"Because to them, you're a failure. Useless. But I saved you from them."
N stared at the floor, oil still dripping slowly from fresh seams.
"…Thank you."
He tried to piece everything together.
"Where did they take them?"
"I know where their base is," Sol said. "And I can help you get there."
Before N could respond, Sol continued.
"But I have two conditions."
N looked up, wary.
"What are they?"
"Nothing too difficult. First: don't ask me how I can talk or how I know the things I know. Second: if we rescue them, you never tell J or V that I was the one who helped you."
N stood there, thinking.
The conditions weren't impossible. Not even hard. But the idea of keeping a secret from J and V… it didn't sit right.
"How do I know you'll actually help me?" he asked finally.
Sol's masked face tilted slightly.
"I helped you last time. I saved you this time."
N hesitated.
Sol stepped closer.
"Look… I know all of this sounds impossible. Strange. Maybe even wrong, scientifically. But I need you to trust me. I'm your friend. I would never betray you."
N still wasn't fully convinced, but he had no other options.
After a long pause, he nodded.
"…Okay. I agree."
Sol gave a small nod.
"Good. Then let's get started."