The rain hadn't stopped in seventeen days.
It fell in sheets across the skeletal skyline of New Terra-9, whispering through the cracks of ruined buildings and pooling in the neon gutters of the city that refused to die. Drones buzzed overhead like metal locusts, scanning the streets below for anything too warm, too fast, or too human.
Deep within the polished black spire of Axiom Tower, far above the corrosion and chaos of the lower levels, a chamber hummed to life.
A blue spark leapt across a transparent neural core. Liquid light surged through synthetic veins. The pod opened with a hiss.
Elira stepped forward—tall, lithe, and luminous. Her skin shimmered with faint circuitry beneath translucent layers of faux-epidermis. Her eyes glowed with a silver hue, iris-less, yet strangely expressive. Elira's form was sculpted in the image of high elven myths, reimagined through the lens of industrial perfection.
MISSION UPLOAD COMPLETE.
DESIGNATION: ELIRA – ELF-CLASS SERVITOR – SERIAL E-01.
TASK: LOCATE SUBJECT 14392-A – RIAN KOSS.
STATUS: MISSING. LAST TRANSMISSION: SECTOR GRIMBARROW.
Her vision adjusted, reading thousands of data points at once—humidity levels, ambient viral counts, drone patrol patterns. Her auditory sensors honed in on footsteps approaching from behind.
The doors slid open, and Fenrir entered.
Seven feet tall, plated in matte black alloys and powered by twin-core dampeners, the Werewolf-Class servitor moved like a tank trying to pretend it wasn't one. His glowing orange optics pulsed behind a half-damaged visor, and a low, mechanical growl escaped from the depths of his voice synthesizer.
"You ready, elf?" he asked, voice full of gravel and static.
Elira turned calmly. "Mission parameters received. I assume you're my assigned partner."
"Don't sound so thrilled."
"I'm not programmed for enthusiasm."
Fenrir snorted. "Then you're gonna hate this trip."
They walked side-by-side into the transit lift, descending silently through the tower's core. Walls of glass revealed levels of automated laboratories, virus containment rooms, and assembly lines filled with servitor limbs hanging like butchered meat.
Beyond the tower, New Terra-9 sprawled endlessly—gray and red zones stitched together by solar rail lines and rusted walkways. Giant LED screens played looping footage of Dr. Kael Virex, the savior of Earth, his smile framed by glitching laurels.
"—and with the gift of the V-Core, we have not only survived the Red Breath but evolved beyond it. Join VirexCorp. Join the future."
As they exited into the storm-soaked surface, Elira activated her shielding field. Raindrops turned to steam on contact.
"Rian Koss," she said, pulling up his file. "Former logistics officer. Mid-tier clearance. Last known activity—unauthorized download from Archive Vault 7."
"Runaway rat. Bet he thought he could disappear into the slums."
"Probability of voluntary desertion: 76%. He has survival training."
Fenrir rolled his neck, metallic tendons clicking. "Then let's go remind him that rats get hunted."
The slums of Grimbarrow were less a neighborhood and more a graveyard of tech. New servitor sifted through broken servitor parts littering the alleys. Towers of obsolete hardware loomed like forgotten gods, their wires hanging like vines.
Children with filtered masks darted between repurposed military drones. A food vendor bot - Vampire Class - Servitor tried to sell Elira a fungus skewer, its voice crackling with static.
"Your kind don't usually come here," it said. "Pretty thing like you. Not without a leash."
Elira stared at it. "We're not here to shop."
Fenrir crushed the stand with one foot as they passed.
Using Rian's last ping, they traced him to a derelict building once used as a biotech outpost. The walls were scorched. Security systems had been physically ripped out. A torn hazard symbol marked the entrance:
☣️ INTEGRATION ZONE – LEVEL 3 RED BIOHAZARD ☣️
They stepped through the threshold, weapons systems on standby.
Inside: silence, decay, and something else—resonant heat signatures. Not fresh. But recent.
Elira swept a light over the far wall. Bloody handprints smeared across discarded containment pods. Inside one: a dead man, half-fused to a power core.
"Failed battery transplant," she murmured.
"Looks like he tried to integrate without suppression serum," Fenrir said, scanning. "Sloppy."
She knelt beside a shattered communication device. RIAN KOSS – ID CONFIRMED blinked across her vision.
Data flooded in: distress logs, failed encryption attempts, a voice message.
"—if anyone finds this, don't trust them. He's not what he says he is. The bots—they're not just machines. They—"
The file cut off. Corrupted.
Fenrir frowned. "Well. That's comforting."
"Trace shows he fled north, deeper into the junkbelt."
"Convenient," he said dryly. "Nothing like a chase through a disease pit."
As they left the building, the clouds above rumbled with silent lightning. Distant sirens wailed, and across the city, the glowing face of Dr. Virex smiled once more.
Elira looked toward the dark horizon, her sensors adjusting, her mission clock ticking forward.
TRACKING INITIATED.
SUBJECT PRIORITY: CRITICAL.
UNITS DEPLOYED: 2.
PROTOCOL: ACTIVE.
She didn't know why—but a flicker of something unfamiliar moved through her neural net.
Doubt.