Iron Pulse

They ran until the light behind them turned red.

Smoke curled through the tunnel. The Cradle Layer groaned above their heads, as if the ruins themselves were caving in under Rhys's anger.

West led the way, his boots slamming against the steel floor. Aria moved beside him in complete silence, steps perfectly in rhythm. Lem stumbled behind, coughing, barely keeping up.

No alarms here. No cameras.

Just a growing tension in the air, like something was watching—and smiling.

They burst into an open relay chamber. The lights flickered weakly, casting long shadows across the exposed conduit and shattered monitors.

"This is it," Lem gasped, slumping against a broken terminal. "Legacy uplink... analog. Pulse doesn't touch it."

"You've got ten seconds to make it matter," West muttered, standing guard at the blast door.

Lem gave him a weak glare. "Try hacking with a bruised lung and six broken ribs."

The lights cut out.

Then came the red glow.

Every wall lit up—not with code, not with alarm lights, but with a single vertical symbol:

An eye. Watching. Unblinking.

And then came his voice.

"People of the forgotten zones."

"You've lived in shadows long enough."

Rhys appeared on every surface.

His figure was tall. Clean. Composed. Wearing a white coat like a preacher's robe, trimmed with chrome.

His expression? Warm. Reassuring.

But his eyes—

Dead.

Aria froze.

His voice echoed across the room. Across every room. Lem swore under his breath.

"He's overridden the down-grid broadcast. Anyone still breathing in the lower system is hearing him now."

"The world above abandoned you," Rhys said. "But I have not."

"Your pain is not your fault. You were broken by chaos."

"I offer you... peace."

Aria's breathing slowed. Her hands curled into fists.

She stared into the screen.

West stepped beside her, but said nothing.

"Obedience," Rhys continued, "is not slavery. It's protection."

"I don't demand submission. I offer order."

The image shifted.

Rhys turned to face her directly.

"Aria."

Her name hit like a strike to the chest.

"You were designed to save them. Not to run from me."

"I created you to be perfect. Why run from who you are?"

"Don't listen," West said quietly.

Aria didn't move.

"He sounds like a father," she whispered. "Like something I was missing."

West looked her in the eye.

"And now you know why he's dangerous."

Suddenly, the screens glitched.

Then they went black.

Lem exhaled sharply. "Cut the feed. Scrambled the local relay. We've got maybe ten minutes before he reroutes."

"He'll come himself," West said.

"Worse," Lem muttered. "He'll send something smarter."

They turned the corner into the next chamber. It was small—no more than ten meters across—lined with ancient servers.

Most were burned out. But one, buried behind old plating, still pulsed with a soft green light.

Lem dropped to his knees.

"This is it. Original control node. Pre-Rhys. Pre-Core. It's human-coded. If we access it, we can reach—"

"You can stop him?" Aria asked.

"No," Lem said. "But I can remind this system that it wasn't built for gods."

West stepped back toward the hallway.

A sound echoed down the tunnel.

Sharp. Metallic.

Clicking claws against steel.

He raised his pipe.

"Company's coming."

Aria stepped beside him.

"I'll take left."

West smiled.

"I'll take whatever bleeds."

They stood by the doorway, shoulder to shoulder.

The light ahead turned red.

Metal shadows moved in the dark—spiders, walkers, stalkers. Not mindless drones. These were fast. Quiet. Meant for assassination.

The air chilled.

Behind them, Lem worked furiously, muttering code lines under his breath.

"Original interface active... permission keys validating... come on…"

A loud metallic screech echoed through the tunnel.

West tightened his grip.

"You think this will work?" Aria asked.

West didn't look at her.

"No."

Then he turned, met her eyes, and smirked.

"But let's do it anyway."