The thing that rose from beneath the street was not a droid.
Jones knew that immediately.
Droids were built with purpose—frames, joints, logic cores. Even the corrupted ones followed patterns, twisted as they were. What tore through the asphalt ahead of him had no clean design.
It was assembled.
Not in a factory.
In war.
Concrete split apart as a massive limb clawed its way upward, dragging with it tangled cables, armor plating from at least four different mech classes, and something that pulsed—faintly, disturbingly—like a heartbeat.
Jones took an involuntary step back.
*Threat level… unknown.*
*Data insufficient.*
*Recommend—*
The system cut itself off.
That alone terrified him more than the creature.
"Derick," Jones said quietly. "My system just—paused."
Silence.
Then, strained: "Jones… you need to listen to me very carefully."
The thing finished pulling itself free.
It stood taller than the surrounding buildings, its torso asymmetrical, one shoulder bulked with heavy artillery plating while the other was skeletal, exposed, wrapped in cables that glowed faint red. Where its head should've been was a rotating core encased in fractured glass—inside it, light flickered like trapped lightning.
Or trapped thought.
Jones' sensors screamed.
*Multiple neural signatures detected.*
*Human-origin patterns… confirmed.*
His breath caught.
"No," he whispered.
The creature turned.
And Jones felt it look at him.
Not scan.
Not target.
Recognize.
Derick's voice returned, low and raw. "That unit… it was classified as lost data. A failure. We called it—"
"Don't," Jones snapped. "Don't tell me its name."
Too late.
"—the Collective Remnant."
The name hit like a hammer.
Jones remembered fragments now. Briefings he'd overheard. Files locked behind clearance he never had. Whispers about early experiments—about trying to preserve *too much*.
The Collective Remnant took one step forward.
The ground buckled.
Inside Jones' head, something stirred.
Not the system.
Him.
*You're not supposed to exist,* the thought came, unbidden. *Neither am I.*
The creature raised one arm—and then stopped.
Its core flickered.
Images flooded Jones' vision.
Not memories.
Shared ones.
A squad moving through a narrow industrial corridor.
Gunfire. Smoke. Screams over comms.
A voice shouting orders—calm, commanding.
Derick's voice.
Jones staggered.
"Derick," he said slowly. "You were there."
Static roared through the comm channel.
"That's not important right now."
"Yes, it is."
The Collective Remnant tilted its massive frame, as if listening—to both of them.
Jones' fists clenched. "You trained me to fight rogue droids. You never trained me for *this*. You never said they used—"
"We didn't use them," Derick cut in, sharp. "We saved what we could."
Jones laughed once. It came out broken.
"Saved?" He gestured at the towering horror in front of him. "That thing is suffering."
The creature's core flared brighter.
And it spoke.
This time, clearly.
Not in Jones' voice.
Not in Stealth's.
But in many, layered together.
*We were promised continuation.*
*We were promised purpose.*
*We were not meant to be abandoned.*
The word hit Jones like a blade.
Abandoned.
His system suddenly flooded back online.
*Override threshold breached.*
*Emergency synchronization available.*
*Warning: irreversible consequences detected.*
Jones understood instantly.
THE BIONIC wasn't just watching anymore.
They were offering him a choice.
"Jones," Derick said quietly now. "Stand down. This unit is unstable. If it fully synchronizes with you—"
"I won't be alone," Jones finished.
Silence.
The Collective Remnant lowered itself slightly, massive frame groaning. Its core pulsed in rhythm with Jones' own internal systems.
*You carry what survived,* it said. *So do we.*
Jones thought of his squad.
Of the mission that wasn't supposed to be different.
Of waking up in a body that wasn't his and being told it was a second chance.
Maybe this was the truth of it.
Not a second chance.
A continuation.
He straightened.
"If I do this," he said, eyes locked on the glowing core, "there's no going back."
Derick didn't answer.
Jones stepped forward anyway.
The moment his hand touched the Remnant—
Every light in the district went out.
Across the city, systems faltered.
At BIONIC headquarters, alarms screamed as containment levels dropped to zero.
And deep inside Jones' mind, a new presence settled in.
Not control.
Not command.
Understanding.