Steam, like the exhalation of some slumbering beast, coiled from the open maw of the med-sarcophagus. Above, a lumen light sputtered its last breath, its artificial sun dying in a series of pathetic pops.
Rona entered, his jaw clenched against a tide of despair. His eyes, sunken pits ringed with crimson, betrayed a sleepless eternity. The weight of the world, or perhaps just the weight of his failures, bowed his shoulders.
"...No," he breathed, the word a broken fragment of a prayer. "Not now. Not yet."
He circled the sarcophagus, a wary sentinel guarding a fragile dream. The stained steel beneath his worn boots scraped with a sound that echoed the gnawing anxiety within him. Inside, a figure stirred, a girl curled in a fetal position, her pale limbs tangled in a nest of arterial tubes that burrowed into her flesh like parasitic roots. She was a delicate bloom fighting to emerge from a metal chrysalis.
Then, it came. A single, drawn-out note. Wet. Aching. Too low to be a scream, too high to be natural, it resonated deep within his bones. It clawed at his sanity.
The walls of the room shivered, the very foundations trembling. Dust, disturbed from its perpetual slumber, floated upward in a silent, ghostly ballet. A hairline crack, like a spider's thread of impending doom, raced across the surface of a glass cabinet, an audible shriek accompanying its trajectory.
Rona stumbled, hands clapped over his ears, a desperate attempt to quell the onslaught. Blood, hot and unwelcome, trickled from his nostrils, a physical manifestation of the psychic assault. He crumpled to his knees, the metallic tang of blood filling his senses. The note faded, but the memory, the vision it conjured, remained, etched onto the back of his eyelids like a brand.
A tower of chrome and nerve, spiraling downward into an infinite abyss. Faces, contorted in silent screams, his friends, trapped within living steel, their humanity sacrificed at the altar of some twisted ideal. Karis, her lips moving, mouthing words he could never hear, her eyes pleading for a mercy he couldn't grant.
A circle of robed figures, faceless and terrifying, The Choir, chanting, whispering insidious secrets into the void.
"...Karis..." he whispered, his voice lost in the cacophony of his mind. "...what did they do to her?"
The door slammed inward, ripped from its frame with violent force.
Izari slightly opened his eyes, and he struggled to look around him as his eyes adjusted to the light. The antiseptic smell caught his breath, and he sat up. He was on Lorian's bed. He instantly looked at his side. It had already healed, relieved, and he got on his feet to get the shirt. He suddenly felt weak, his knees buckled, and he fell on the floor. Lorian walked into the room holding a large mug. He sniffled when he saw Izari. He placed the mug on the small table and helped him to his feet. He slowly led Izari to the bed where he sat. Lorian then grabbed the mug and handed it to Izari. It was filled with a yellow liquid that had a sweet smell, masking a sour one.
"What's this?"Izari looked up at Lorian, who raised his eyebrows, shrugged at him with a thin smile on his face.
"Something i've been working on, it's supposed to increase the healing and maybe amp your body's capabilities by a bit."
Izari gulped, closed his eyes, and then drank the liquid. It wasn't that bad; it just tasted tangy and mellow with a subtle acidity that lingered on his tongue. When he finished, Lorian pointed at the bed.
"You are going to need it."
Izari sighed as he went back to resting on the bed. Lorian sat on the floor, his arm resting on the table as he turned the hologram glass on. A series of advertisements flashed on the screen. He sat up switched positions to get a good look at the screen. Companies advertising their products, some advertising their new offers some announcing the various job vacancies. Izari yawned, getting Lorian's attention. He slowly looked over to where he was sleeping and then continued watching.
After a few minutes of scrolling through various sites looking for something to watch, Lorian heard Izari calling him, "Hey." He slowly nodded, "Thanks for saving my life." Lorian nodded all while watching, "Don't mention it." After a brief pause, Izari asked him, "Mind if I ask you something?" Lorian nodded.
"Is Solomon your dad?". Lorian looked up at him. "No." Izari rested his head on his hands, his curiosity getting the best of him. "Then who is he?"
Lorian sighed as he looked at the screen for a moment before replying, "He's just my boss."
Izari nodded, "And whose Rona is to him?" Lorian raised an eyebrow. "He's just a long-time friend.". "So you're familiar with him?" Izari continued. "Yeah," Lorian answered. "Does he always bring patients here?" Lorian looked at him with a sarcastic look. "Yeah.". "What kind of patients?" Izari asked. Lorian put the remote down, groaning, "Urgh, could you just stop with the questions?"
Izari nodded. "Okay." After a brief moment of silence between them as they both watched the news, Lorian turned to Izari. "Whose the girl?"
"Her name's Cassia, she's supposed to be Sebastian Veidt's daughter."
Lorian still stared at him. "Who the hell is Sebastian Veidt?" At first, Izari stared at him, trying to contemplate what to do, either laugh at him or ask him if he was being serious. He then burst into laughter,"No way you don't know who Sebastian is." He suddenly stopped when he noticed Lorian was still staring, "Oh, you're serious."
"Alright, he's some big-time crime lord of the South District, people there call him the Fang." Lorian nodded. "Rona says that he's a part of some cult don't know the name but he supposedly offered Cassia to them as a part of some ritual."
"So those cuts were..." Lorian trailed off as Izari nodded. "Yikes."
"So anyway, one of those cult guys hired some bronze skulls goons to get the girl from him, and now here we are." Izari finished while staring at the screen. "Damn." Lorian remarked as he continued watching."He then paused for a moment before turning to Izari, "You're telling me that the bronze skulls are after you guys."
"Yep."
"Have you alerted the enforcers of your situation?"
Izari stared at Lorian wide-eyed before he slapped his head. "Of course!"
"Do you have a phone?" Izari asked.
Lorian pointed toward the door.
Izari climbed out of bed, stretching upright-he didn't feel weak anymore. He gave Lorian a thumbs up. Lorian sniffled in reply, watching as Izari walked out, still puzzled.
In the reception area, Izari began rummaging through the drawers of a cracked glass desk. After a moment, he spotted it-an old red phone. He scoffed, then started dialing.
Suddenly, a loud hiss split the air, followed by a string of curses-Solomon's voice. He could just make out Rona mumbling something.
Without thinking, Izari dropped the receiver and sprinted toward the back room.
The door slammed inward, ripped from its frame with violent force.
Izari barged in, scanning the scene. Moments later, Lorian pushed his way inside.
Izari and Lorian froze, a tableau of shock and disbelief, their arrival arrested by the sight of the open pod and Cassia, breathing, awake, a fragile miracle.
Lorian's breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening with a mixture of awe and fear. "Wait, she's… awake?!"
Solomon snapped into action, his cybernetic eye whirring as he focused on the task at hand. "Move! Out of my way!"
He rushed to Cassia, his movements precise and efficient, his wrist-mounted interface whirring as he scanned her vitals. The cybernetic eye dilated, flickered rapidly, absorbing and processing the data.
"...Wound tissue… gone," he murmured, his voice laced with disbelief. "Lacerations resolved. Heart rate stabilized… neural frequencies off-chart. Saints protect us..."
He turned slowly to Rona, his weathered face heavy with the weight of the revelation.
"... She seems to be healing at a much faster rate than before."
Lorian sighed . "Well that's a relief."
Izari stared at him.
Rona, oblivious to the banter, his gaze fixated on Cassia, took a tentative step towards her. "Do you… do you remember anything? Before the ritual?"
Cassia blinked, her static-white eyes struggling to focus. She spoke slowly, her voice distant, as if echoing from a far-off place. "It's… all fog. Like I'm remembering someone else's dream."
Solomon, his voice gentle, coaxing, asked, "Your name. Can you recall it?"
She hesitated, a flicker of confusion crossing her face. Her lips parted, but no sound emerged. Rona stepped closer, offering a lifeline. "Cassia. Cassia Veidt. Your father was Sebastian."
A faint nod, almost imperceptible, a thread of recognition stirring within the depths of her fragmented memory.
Solomon nodded, his gaze firm. "Right. First, we feed you. You'll need the strength."
Lorian, ever eager to lighten the mood, rubbed his belly, a playful grin spreading across his face. "Seconded. I'm starving."
Izari sighed, his gaze unwavering. "Thank goodness."
They sat at a rickety glass counter in the med-bay reception. The walls were scarred with the ghosts of past emergencies, lined with broken scanners and shelves overflowing with rusted med-tools. A flickering glow-globe cast long, dancing shadows across their faces.
Cassia ate slowly, encouraged by Lorian's gentle guidance, each bite a victory against the fog that clung to her mind.
"Small bites, Cass," Lorian said, his voice soothing. "Like this. Yeah, perfect."
Izari leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his eyes narrowed, watching from afar with a detached amusement, assessing the situation.
Solomon turned to Rona, his expression serious. "She's awake. What now?"
Rona's jaw tightened, his voice a low growl. "The Seer and his goons are still out there. I'll find a way to get rid of them and take the girl to headquarters."
Solomon's brow furrowed, his tone sharp. "And Izari? Is he aware of this plan?"
Rona replied, his gaze unwavering, "No, but it still doesn't matter if he helps or not."
Solomon sighed, a note of weary resignation in his voice. "You say she's why you fight-but that's exactly why you should stop. You're drawing fire with every breath."
Rona's voice cracked, a fissure in his hardened exterior. "If I stop now… then all they died for means nothing. Karis…"
Solomon interrupted, his voice firm, laced with a hint of desperation. "Then make it mean something by surviving, damn you."
He sighed, his expression softening, the hard edges of his face momentarily receding. "Just… don't make me pick up the pieces again, Rona. I've buried too many of ours."
A sharp KNOCK shattered the fragile truce. A pause hung in the air, thick with foreboding. All heads turned, their eyes locked on the battered door.
Solomon offered a wry smile, a mask to conceal the fear that gnawed at him. "Guess it's my lucky day. More patients."
He walked towards the door, his gait heavy with years of hardship, and opened it with a tired smile. "Welcome, friend, we're o…"
The shotgun blast erupted like thunder, tearing through the silence, ripping the fragile illusion of safety to shreds. Solomon's head vanished in a wet explosion of crimson mist and shattered chrome, a grotesque parody of life. His body slumped to the floor with a hollow thud, a broken marionette.
Lorian screamed, a raw, primal sound of anguish and disbelief. "SOLOMON!!" He surged forward, driven by grief and rage.
Izari grabbed him by the collar, his grip like a vise. "NO. We run. NOW."
A towering figure, clad in scavenged scrap-metal armor, stepped through the doorway, smoke curling from the barrel of his shotgun. The Bronze skulls Lieutenant, a predator reveling in the carnage, chuckled, his voice a guttural rasp. "Whew. Took his whole damn head clean off. You see that?"
"Stop gloating," a gruff voice snapped from behind him. Another Bronze skull, less flamboyant, more pragmatic. "We've got a schedule."
Rona, trembling, his face contorted with rage, his eyes burning with a murderous fire, screamed, his pistol barking in defiance, the echoes resounding through the now desecrated room. His shots flew wild, fueled by grief and despair, tears streaming down his face as he unloaded every round he possessed.
"I'll kill you! You bastards! He was my…"
"Got guts, this one," a third one laughed, ducking behind cover, his voice laced with cruel amusement. "Dibs on his head!"
Izari yanked Rona backward, dragging him away from the carnage.
"Control yourself," he hissed, his voice urgent, his eyes hard. "We need to live to kill them."
They found themselves in the emergency back room, a cramped space dominated by a floor hatch. Lorian, consumed by grief and rage, his hands trembling, wrestled with the rusty locking mechanism. The walls vibrated under the impact of incoming blasts, the sounds of destruction closing in.
"I'm going to burn them," Lorian vowed, his voice raw with emotion. "I'll kill every last one of them."
Izari nodded, hi
s expression grim. "Good. But not now. We will finish that later. When she's safe."
"I'm working on that," Lorian said, his teeth gritted, his determination hardening into a cold resolve.
With a final, desperate heave, he yanked the hatch open. Rona, cradling Cassia, descended first, his every movement cautious, protective. Izari followed, his eyes scanning the surrounding darkness. Finally, Lorian, his face a mask of grief and fury, descended, sealing the hatch behind them.
Behind them, the med-center, once a fragile sanctuary, glowed with an unholy light, then detonated in a searing fireball of plasma and shrieking metal, a final, violent punctuation mark on Solomon's life.
They found themselves in the deep warren tunnels, a labyrinthine network beneath the ruins, their only escape. Dark. Wet. Cramped. The air hung heavy with the stench of damp earth and decay. Cassia shifted in Rona's arms, her breath shallow, her body trembling. She spoke, her voice barely audible above the dripping water and the pounding of their hearts.
"Why… did they kill him?"
Silence descended, heavy and suffocating. Even Izari looked shaken, his usual composure fractured by the devastating loss. Lorian wept quietly in the darkness, his grief a palpable weight in the air. The tunnels offered no comfort, only the promise of escape, and the crushing reality of their new, uncertain future.
The descent into the massive tunnels of Deep Warren was an exercise in suffocating isolation. Each step deeper felt like a plunge into the earth's cold, metallic heart. The air grew thick and heavy, clinging to the lungs like a shroud, saturated with the acrid scent of rust and the cloying sweetness of damp decay. The flickering remnants of old industrial lights, caged and struggling to survive, cast a meager, unreliable glow, barely enough to reveal the labyrinthine catwalks and staircases spiraling downward, disappearing into the abyss below. It was a place few dared to tread—an abandoned sector of Machine City, forgotten by all except the desperate, the damned, and those haunted by their past.
Lorian led the group in a grim silence, his face etched with determination. His heavy boots echoed against the corroded metal grating, each footfall a stark reminder of their vulnerability. Beside him, Rona moved with rigid caution, his sharp, hawk-like eyes constantly sweeping their surroundings, searching for any sign of movement, any flicker that betrayed a lurking presence. Cassia followed closely behind, her composed demeanor visibly cracking under the oppressive weight of the unknown. Izari occasionally cast fleeting, unreadable glances at Lorian.
"Deep Warren," Rona murmured, his voice raspy and low, as they cautiously crossed a long, suspended bridge that groaned under their weight. The structure looked ready to surrender its hold on existence. "They say it used to be a transport hub, the lifeblood of the lower sectors before the upper districts deemed it obsolete. Now it's a tomb, a monument to neglect."
Izari scoffed, a dry, humorless sound. "Seems like a perfect place to hold them off, then. Lots of dead ends, plenty of places to hide…or die."
Rona shot him a sharp, silencing glare. "That's not happening, kid. We're all getting out of this." His words were laced with a fierce protectiveness, a promise he wasn't sure he could keep.
The bridge trembled beneath them, weakened from years of neglect and the uncaring weight of time. Below, an ocean of pipes and rusted scaffolding stretched into the inky distance, disappearing into a sickly, orange-tinged haze. The air shimmered with unseen particles, a cocktail of pollutants and forgotten dreams. Somewhere deep within the labyrinth of shadows, the distant clatter of metal against metal reached their ears, a chilling percussion in the oppressive silence. It was a sound that spoke of anticipation, of a hunt about to begin.
"They killed Solomon," Lorian whispered, his voice full of venom. He seemed almost consumed by rage and the sole desire to avenge his guardian.
Izari halted abruptly at the far end of the bridge, his stance solid and unyielding. He turned back to the group, his expression resolute, a mask of grim determination. "You guys need to keep moving. This is where we split." He reached into his pocket, retrieved a crumpled scrap of paper, worn and stained with grime, and pressed it into Rona's calloused palm. "Here, this is the rendezvous point. Follow the directions once you reach the surface. I'll meet you there."
Rona stiffened, his eyes narrowed with protest. "Look, kid. We're not leaving you. That wasn't the plan."
Izari clenched his jaw, his dark eyes flashing with defiance. "I don't know if you've looked around, old man, but we need to lose them once and for all. We can't take any more losses."
Before Rona could argue further, Lorian stepped forward with a forced grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'll stay too."
Everyone turned to look at him in surprise, their faces reflecting a mixture of confusion and disbelief, including Izari himself.
"No, no, stay with Rona and the girl, lead them out of here, okay?" Izari asked, his voice laced with suspicion. He didn't fully trust Lorian's judgment.
Lorian shrugged, his orange hair catching the dim light, momentarily transforming him into a flickering flame in the darkness. "If there's anyone here who deserves the opportunity to cave their skulls in, it's me," he added with tears streaming down his face, "I need this!"
Rona narrowed his eyes at Lorian, a flicker of pity in his gaze. But time was running out, and they couldn't afford to argue. Instead, he placed a heavy hand on Lorian's shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring. "Please come with us, Izari can handle them all by himself, all we will be doing is slowing him down."
Lorian slapped the hand away, a scowl crossing his face. "So can I."
Rona hesitated, his knuckles white as he clenched his fists, before finally clenching his jaw and stepping back, he looked at Izari. "Don't die. And make sure he doesn't either." With that, he turned, leading Cassia deeper into the maze, their figures quickly swallowed by the metal veins of the city. The bridge groaned as their weight shifted, then fell silent once more, leaving Izari and Lorian alone in the oppressive darkness.
Now alone, Izari exhaled, the sound echoing slightly in the vast tunnel. He gripped his shiv tightly, the cool metal a familiar comfort against his palm. "You should've gone with them."
"Please?" Lorian retorted, rolling his shoulders as he looked at the direction of the incoming attackers. "Let's get this over and done with."
Izari didn't get the chance to respond. A low hum, a mechanical vibration, reverberated through the metal framework of the bridge, growing steadily louder. Then, like wraiths emerging from the abyss, seven figures stepped into view from the opposite end of the bridge, their forms silhouetted against the flickering light. Their movements were methodical, predatory, and each footstep precise and deliberate. They were hunters, and Izari and Lorian were their prey.
The Seer was among them—his towering form unmistakable beneath the long, armored coat that flowed around him like liquid shadow. His ornate cloak gleamed dully under the dim lights. His cold, calculating eyes locked onto Izari, piercing through the darkness and seeming to dissect his very soul.
But it wasn't The Seer that truly made Izari's blood run cold. It was her.
Izari's breath caught in his throat as his gaze landed on the masked young woman at the Seer's side. The beaked mask covered half her face, obscuring her features but doing nothing to hide the cold, hard glint in her visible eye. There was no mistaking her. He had seen her die. He had snapped her neck with his bare hands. He now knew he was right about the Bronze skulls, beneath their brutality, they harbored their dark secrets, their twisted experiments.
She tilted her head slightly, as if reading his thoughts, a subtle gesture that sent a shiver down Izari's spine. Her head tilted slowly, and she spoke in a voice that was both familiar and foreign, a chilling echo of the girl he had known, now twisted and corrupted. "What's the matter? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Izari's grip on his weapon tightened, his pulse thundering in his ears.
Lorian set his gaze his gaze on the lieutenant, rage built up inside him he almost choked, "You!" he snarled at the lieutenant, who in turn smiled venomously back at him.
Izari ignored him, his attention solely focused on the Seer and his envoy. He was a cornered animal, ready to fight to the death.
The Lieutenant, a hulking brute of a man, raised his hand, and the other five mercenaries, brandishing their clubs and blades, moved forward, their eyes filled with bloodlust. Izari and Lorian stood their ground, two against seven, a desperate stand against overwhelming odds. But in the darkness of Deep Warren, surrounded by the ghosts of the past, they had nothing left to lose.
The fight was about to begin, a desperate dance with death
in the heart of a forgotten city.