The transport bay doors opened with a slow, mechanical groan.
Cold air rushed in first—thin, metallic, laced with ozone and distant smoke. Jones felt it wash over his new frame, sensors flaring as environmental data streamed across his vision. Temperature. Wind speed. Urban particulate density. Threat probability climbing with every second.
This was it.
His first step outside the facility since Phase Transition.
The dropship's ramp lowered fully, revealing the city beyond the perimeter walls. Not the shining skyline from recruitment ads or archived footage—but the real one. Buildings scarred by past skirmishes. Streets patched over too many times. Flickering lights that told stories of rolling blackouts and emergency power grids stretched thin.
Jones stood at the edge of the ramp, motionless.
Not because he couldn't move.
Because part of him remembered dying out there.
*You don't get to hesitate,* he told himself.
He stepped forward.
The weight distribution of his body adjusted instantly, servos compensating as his foot hit concrete. No stumble. No delay. Just clean, controlled motion. The training—every fall, every failure, every forced reset—had burned itself into him.
Behind him, Commander Derick's voice came through the comms, steady as ever.
"Telemetry looks clean. No override flags. You're in full control."
Jones flexed his fingers once, feeling the subtle hum beneath synthetic plating.
"Copy," he said. "Feels… quiet."
Derick exhaled softly on the other end. "Enjoy it while it lasts."
---
The mission was simple on paper.
A rogue droid signature had appeared in Sector Nine—an industrial district long abandoned after automation riots gutted its infrastructure. Civilian presence was low, but not zero. That was the problem. Rogue units didn't discriminate. They never had.
Jones moved through the streets alone.
No squad flanking him. No overlapping fields of fire. Just the echo of his own footsteps and the constant whisper of system data scrolling through his mind.
*Threat scan active.*
*Audio range expanded.*
*Predictive combat models initializing.*
A sound registered ahead—metal scraping against metal.
Jones slowed, posture shifting automatically into a low-ready stance. His inner thoughts sharpened, memories bleeding in uninvited.
*Last time, we advanced like this too. Confident. Tight formation. Thought we had control.*
They hadn't.
He rounded the corner.
The droid stood in the middle of the street, back turned. A construction unit—heavy frame, industrial arms modified with crude weapon mounts. Its casing was scorched and mismatched, repairs done without precision or care. Red diagnostic lights pulsed erratically along its spine.
It twitched.
Jones froze.
For half a second, the world narrowed to a single point.
*That's it,* his mind whispered. *That's what took them.*
The droid turned.
Target acquisition locked instantly. Hostile intent confirmed. Power spike detected.
Jones moved.
Not in anger. Not in panic.
In control.
He closed the distance faster than any human could, asphalt cracking faintly beneath his steps. The droid fired—wild, inaccurate—but Jones was already inside its firing arc. His arm came up, plating shifting as internal actuators redirected force.
One strike.
Clean. Precise.
The droid staggered, systems failing as Jones twisted and drove it into the ground. The impact sent a shockwave through the street. Jones didn't stop. He didn't need to.
He finished it.
Silence returned, broken only by the faint hiss of cooling metal.
Jones stood over the wreckage, chest rising and falling—not because he needed air, but because some habits refused to die.
Derick's voice cut in again. "Target neutralized."
Jones looked down at the broken machine.
"No," he said quietly. "Not yet."
His sensors flickered.
Multiple new signatures appeared across his HUD.
Rogue units.
Plural.
Jones straightened, shadows stretching around him as the city seemed to hold its breath.
For the first time since waking in a body that wasn't his own, Jones felt something unmistakable settle into place.
Not rage.
Purpose.
"Send them," he said.
And deep within the city's ruined veins, something began to move toward him.