"Roboscorpions stormed the perimeter, but we held the line. Carry on, boss," Corbin's voice crackled over the radio, the distant thud of explosions punctuating his report.
"Thanks, Corbin. Stay sharp. Case out," Case replied, clicking the comms off.
It was already midnight. The sterile, artificial lights of X-13 made time feel like an abstract concept, but the fatigue in their bones was real. Milla had been grinding through the trials for hours. She'd cleared the first test with flying colors and finished the second in only two attempts—the first being a botched run simply because she hadn't spotted a low-hanging laser tripwire.
The third test, however, was a nightmare. The proximity sensors were relentless. Milla could dodge lasers and weave through robot patrols with the grace of a shadow—doing things Case described as being pulled straight out of Mission Impossible—but those proximity fields were a different beast. One inch too close to a sensor plate and the alarms shrieked, resetting the floor.
Behind them, leaned against a stack of server crates, Jacob was already snoring loudly through his mask.
"Never thought expired Sunset Sarsaparilla could taste this good," Milla muttered, popping the cap off a dusty bottle Case had scrounged from a back-office breakroom. She finished it in a few long gulps, looking like a mess—her hair was fraying out of its knot and sweat lined her brow.
"Want to take a rest? We can hole up here for a few hours," Case offered.
"No. Not now," Milla said, her jaw set in a stubborn line.
"Let's look at the data again. We've disabled the tripwires and the bots, but those proximity sensors... I can't find a bypass. They hard-reset with every test run," Case noted, looking down at the hand-drawn map he'd been meticulously sketching with a pencil. He'd marked every "dead zone" he'd observed from the monitor.
"Thirteen's the charm," Milla said, standing up and stretching. Her suit hummed as the servos assisted her movement.
"For someone who's survived a Cazador sting, you're doing pretty good," Case said, trying to lighten the mood.
She offered a small, tired smile. "You can only imagine, Case." She paused suddenly, her cheeks flushing a faint red. "No! It's—it's not like that!"
"Not like what?" Case blinked, confused.
"Nothing! It's just... the suit is talking to me again," Milla grumbled, swatting at the air as if a bug were near her ear. "It's got a very... observant personality."
"Oh. Right. I see," Case said, suppressing a grin. He turned back to the security terminal, his fingers hovering over the activation key. "Ready for the next run?"
"Sure thing," she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her glove and resetting her stance.
"Alright. Ready... set... go!" He slammed the button.
Milla didn't ease into the room this time. She barged through the door, abandoning the extreme caution of her earlier attempts. She was past the point of careful deliberation; she was just tired, moving on pure muscle memory and caffeine. Case watched the monitors, held his breath, and listened.
From the observation room, he could hear a faint, rhythmic beep—the sound of a proximity sensor detecting movement. It died down. Then it started again, faster this time. Beep-beep-beep. The pitch climbed, getting louder, more frantic, followed by the distinctive metallic clack of a pressure plate.
"FUCKING STUPID MINE!"
Yeah, she failed again. Poor Milla. A few moments later, the door hissed open and Milla trudged back into the observation room, her face sour and her breathing heavy.
"Again?" Case asked, his voice cautious, half-expecting her to reach her breaking point.
"Yes, again," Milla snapped, her eyes fixed on the testing floor with a look of pure, stubborn vendetta.
Case didn't argue. He pressed the button.
Milla slipped into the room, but this time, her movement felt different. She had transitioned into a strange, hyper-focused state—a different personality entirely. Case leaned back from the monitors and closed his eyes, using his hearing as the only measurement of her progress.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Then silence.
Beep. Another silence.
Then came a long, sustained beeeeeep—the sound of a sensor reaching its critical threshold. It was followed by a series of very faint, frantic footsteps—the sound of someone sprinting on their tiptoes—and then that same long, agonizing beep.
"SHITTY STUPID MINE!"
The muffled thump of the simulated blast echoed through the vents. Milla marched back into the room, her face flushed and her hair now completely disheveled. She looked like she wanted to fight the building itself.
"Again?" Case asked. He already had his finger poised over the keyboard, his rhythm matching hers.
"Stupid fucking shit... yeah, again, Case. Again," Milla spat, her voice raspy from the dry facility air.
"You sure?" Case asked, his finger hovering over the familiar key. He was starting to worry about her heart rate; the suit's injectors were likely doing overtime to keep her on her feet.
"This isn't over until I've finished, right?" Milla asked, turning her head to lock eyes with him. There was a frantic, wild energy in her gaze—the look of a Ranger who refused to let a machine have the last word.
"Yeah," Case said quietly. "It's not over."
He pushed the button.
The cycle continued. Three more times, the facility echoed with the rhythmic beeping of the sensors and the frustrated screams of a girl losing a fight with a floor. On the fourth attempt of the hour—her eighteenth run in total—the soundscape changed.
Beep. Beep. Pivot.
Case watched the thermal feed. Milla was moving like a blur, her silhouette jagged and fast. She reached the first sensor, paused for a heartbeat, and then lunged—not forward, but into a low, sliding roll that carried her through the blind spot Case had pointed out.
The long beeeeeep started, then abruptly cut off as she cleared the radius.
Silence followed. Then, the heavy, mechanical clunk of a safe door being unbolted.
Milla didn't scream this time. She didn't even cheer. She just walked back into the observation room, the heavy folder of documents clutched in her hand. Her face was pale, she was drenched in sweat, and she looked like she could sleep for a century.
"Finally," she whispered, her voice barely a thread, as she dropped the heavy folder onto the console in front of Case. She looked like she was ready to melt into the floorboards.
"There's another test…" Case muttered, his eyes glued to the terminal screen.
The reaction was instantaneous. Milla's head snapped up, her eyes wide with a mix of exhaustion and homicidal rage. "YOU SAID WHAT??? A NEW TEST???"
"Wait, wait! Let's not get worked up!" Case held his hands up defensively, backing away from the console. "It's the Robotic Compliance Test. It's the final one. It's not about dodging mines—it's about using the suit's internal frequency to 'handshake' with the facility's bots. Approach a robot from behind, then the suit will disable it."
Milla stared at him for a long, silent beat. Her chest heaved, the matte-black plating of the suit rising and falling with her ragged breath. Then, she let out a long, shuddering groan and slumped back into her chair.
"Fine. Fine... fine," she rasped, rubbing her temples. "Let's just finish this shit. Let's get it over with. I'm fucking tired, Case."
"I'm sorry," Case muttered, feeling a genuine pang of guilt. He knew he was pushing her to the absolute limit, but the data on that screen was too vital to leave behind.
"Don't be. This is for the Rangers, right? For the cavalry?" Milla looked up, her expression softening just a fraction. "Right?"
"It is," Case promised. "It changes everything for us."
"Sure thing then. Let's get to it," she said, hauling herself up by the armrests. Her legs were shaking slightly, but she stood tall, the Stealth Suit's AI humming a low, supportive chord in response to her resolve.
With a press of the button, Case initiated the final sequence. Milla vanished into the testing bay, but this time, the audio feed was hauntingly silent. There were no frantic beeps, no shouting, and no explosions. It was as if she had become a literal ghost. Having mapped the facility's hazards into her own mind through sheer, painful repetition, she moved through the proximity fields and sensor grids with terrifying efficiency.
The only sounds echoing back were the occasional mechanical thuds and hisses of Robobrains being deactivated before they even registered a threat. Within minutes—far faster than any previous run—the door to the observation room hissed open.
Milla walked in, but she wasn't looking at Case or Jacob. Her head was tilted slightly to the side, her eyes glazed with exhaustion.
"Yeah… yeah, suit, we did it…" she whispered to the empty air.
"Milla?" Case asked, stepping forward, his concern rising.
"Wait, suit, let me close my eyes…" Milla muttered, her voice trailing off.
Before Case could reach her, her knees buckled. She slumped to the ground, the matte-black armor clattering against the cold floor. A second later, a loud, rhythmic snore erupted from Milla's mouth.
"Yikes, Milla. Always pushing for the best, aren't you?" Case whispered, looking down at the slumped figure. She looked smaller now that the adrenaline had cleared, just a girl who had pushed through a digital hell for the sake of her team.
Case clicked his radio, the static cutting through the silence of the lab. "Can you bring a gurney here? We've got a fallen Ranger. Over."
"Who's wounded? Over," Corbin's voice came back instantly, sharp and alert. Case could hear the clicking of safeties being disengaged in the background.
"Not wounded, but fell out of exhaustion. Over," Case clarified, rubbing his own tired eyes.
"Copy that. We're on our way. Out."
Five minutes later, the heavy thud of Ranger boots echoed in the hallway. Four Rangers burst in, two of them carrying a collapsible field gurney. They stopped dead when they saw Milla in the matte-black experimental suit.
"Holy... is that the suit?" one of the younger Rangers whispered, staring at the high-tech plating.
"Yeah, help me lift it up, will you?" Case asked, holding Milla's hands, then lifting up her entire body up into the gourney.
The trek back was silent, save for the rhythmic crunch of boots on the desert floor. The two Sentry Bots Case had stationed at the entrance fell into rank, flanking the gurney like a pair of iron royal guards. After the recycled, ozone-heavy atmosphere of the X-13 facility, the cool midnight air of the Big Empty felt crisp and revitalizing.
As they approached the Sink, the soft blue luminescence of the balcony served as a welcoming beacon in the darkness. The team moved with practiced efficiency, carrying the unconscious Milla toward the elevator. When the doors opened upstairs, the Auto-Doc was already shifting into its diagnostic form.
"Another one?" the machine chimed in its gruff, pre-war soldier voice. The main housing opened wide, and a horizontal surgical table slid out with a smooth, hydraulic hiss, ready to receive the exhausted Ranger.
"Yeah, another one," Case replied, leaning in to help the other Rangers lift Milla onto the table.
The machine went to work immediately. Mechanical arms whirred into position, attaching a blood cuff and flickering scanners over the matte-black surface of the stealth suit. It measured her heart rate, oxygen saturation, and neural fatigue levels in seconds.
"The patient is suffering from extreme exhaustion. A full cycle of rest is required. No stimpacks necessary, just shut-eye," the Auto-Doc barked.
The team lifted Milla back up from the table as the Auto-Doc retracted its sensors. They carried her across the room to the massive, ornate bed—Dr. Mobius' old bed, now the most comfortable spot in the entire facility.
Case stepped forward, gently helping her settle in. He pulled a heavy, moth-eaten but warm blanket over her, tucking it in as she let out a long, unconscious sigh of relief.