The briefing room was smaller than Arthur expected, barely large enough for the four of them and the operator who bounced into the space with energy that seemed impossible in the Ark's oppressive atmosphere.
"Squad Thirteen!" The woman—girl?—practically chirped the words, her bright blue hair catching the fluorescent lighting as she spun to face them. She couldn't have been more than 150 centimeters tall, slim build, wearing an operator's uniform that somehow looked cheerful despite being standard military issue. Her smile was genuine, uncomplicated by the prejudice Arthur had seen everywhere else. "I'm Shifty, I'll be your mission operator. So excited to work with you!"
Arthur exchanged glances with his squad. Nyx raised an eyebrow. Scarlet's expression remained carefully neutral. Lyra's targeting displays flickered as if trying to process this anomaly.
"You're aware we're Squad Thirteen," Scarlet said slowly. "The problem unit."
"Oh, absolutely!" Shifty pulled up a holographic display, fingers dancing across the interface with practiced speed. "But that's just politics, right? I read your service records—the real ones, not the official garbage. You three are amazing! Scarlet, your combat efficiency ratings are top five percent. Lyra, your accuracy scores are actually impossible, I checked the math twice. And Nyx, you've survived situations that killed four other heavy weapons specialists." She beamed at them. "Anyone who calls you defective is an idiot."
The silence that followed was profound. Arthur watched his squad struggle with receiving what might have been their first genuine compliment in years.
"And Commander Cousland!" Shifty turned her enthusiasm on him. "Outer Rim survivor, prosthetic augmentation, sponsored by unknown benefactor, graduated middle of your class despite starting with zero formal education. You're like something out of an action novel. This is going to be so much fun!"
"Fun," Arthur repeated, not entirely sure how to handle this hurricane of positivity. "Right. The mission?"
"Oh! Yes!" The holographic display shifted, showing aerial reconnaissance of a ruined shopping district on the surface. The buildings were skeletal remains, collapsed sections and overgrown vegetation reclaiming what humanity had abandoned. "Target zone is Sector Seven, former commercial district. Intelligence suggests moderate Rapture presence, mostly scout-class units. Your objective is resource recovery—specifically medical supplies, intact electronics, and any ammunition caches. Command estimates six hours for a thorough sweep."
Lyra leaned forward, studying the topography. "Sight lines?"
"Limited," Shifty admitted, zooming in on specific sections. "Lots of interior spaces, collapsed structures creating blind spots. Not ideal for sniper positioning, but there are a few elevated locations that might work. I've marked three possibilities."
"Rapture patrol patterns?" Scarlet asked.
"Irregular. They've been more active lately, but no consistent routes. You'll need to stay mobile, adapt on the fly." Shifty's expression became more serious, her professional competence showing through the cheerful exterior. "Real talk? This is a dangerous assignment. Command picked this sector because other squads refused it. Too many unknowns, too much risk for the potential reward."
"Sounds about right," Nyx muttered. "Send the expendables."
"Hey." Shifty's voice carried unexpected steel. "I don't think you're expendable. I'll be monitoring every second, providing real-time intel and tactical support. You've got overwatch, extraction protocols, and emergency reinforcement codes. I will get you home safe. That's a promise."
Arthur found himself liking this strange operator. "Appreciated, Shifty."
"Just doing my job, Commander. Now, you've got thirty minutes to reach the surface elevator. Transit time is fifteen minutes up, so factor that into your operational timeline. Questions?"
"Rules of engagement?" Arthur asked.
"Standard protocols apply. Raptures are hostile on sight, neutralize with extreme prejudice. If you encounter other squads, maintain professional distance—don't expect cooperation, but don't create conflicts either. Any civilians found topside are to be reported immediately, though honestly, finding survivors after a hundred years is basically impossible." Shifty transferred the mission data to their personal displays. "Your comm-link frequency is secure channel seven. I'll be monitoring life signs, ammunition levels, and tactical positioning. Stay smart, stay safe."
The briefing concluded with final equipment checks and tactical review. Arthur's prosthetic hands felt steady as he secured his rifle, the goddesium fingers responding precisely to his intentions. His squad moved with practiced efficiency, each woman checking her weapons and gear with the thoroughness of soldiers who knew equipment failure meant death.
They left the briefing room together, moving through the Ark's corridors toward the northern elevator shaft. The facility grew more utilitarian as they walked, polished floors giving way to bare metal, the walls marked with warning signs and hazard indicators. Other personnel became scarce. The surface elevators were located in sections most Ark residents preferred to ignore, reminders of the world above they'd abandoned.
"First time topside?" Nyx asked Arthur as they descended a final stairwell.
"Yeah."
"It's different," Scarlet said quietly. "The Ark is cramped, artificial, controlled. The surface is... open. Empty. Takes some adjustment."
"The sky is the worst part," Lyra added, her voice soft. "Too much space above you. Makes you feel exposed, vulnerable. Takes time to adapt."
The elevator entrance loomed ahead, a massive reinforced door marked with faded lettering: SURFACE ACCESS AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. Two guards flanked it, checking credentials with bored efficiency. They waved Squad Thirteen through without comment, though Arthur caught one guard muttering something about "another suicide run."
The elevator itself was industrial, designed for cargo and combat troops rather than comfort. Bare metal walls, harsh lighting, enough space for a full squad and their equipment. Arthur stepped inside, feeling the slight give of reinforced deck plating beneath his boots. His squad arranged themselves in a loose formation, weapons ready but not aimed, the posture of soldiers entering uncertainty.
Scarlet hit the activation panel. The doors closed with hydraulic finality.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then the elevator lurched, beginning its long ascent through hundreds of meters of reinforced shaft, rising from humanity's hidden refuge toward the dead world above.
"Nervous?" Nyx asked Arthur, her golden eyes reading something in his posture.
"Cautious," he corrected. "There's a difference."
"Good answer." She checked her rocket launcher's loading mechanism, the weapon looking almost casual slung over her shoulder. "Nervous gets you killed. Cautious keeps you breathing."
The elevator hummed around them, a constant mechanical drone that filled the silence. Arthur felt the ascent in his prosthetic legs, the slight variation in pressure and motion translated through synthetic nerves into sensations his brain interpreted as almost-normal. The modifications Sal had given him were holding up, systems responding within acceptable parameters.
"Contact in sixty seconds," Shifty's voice came through their comm-links, cheerful even compressed by radio transmission. "Surface conditions are overcast, temperature twenty-two degrees, humidity moderate. No immediate Rapture signatures within fifty meters of the exit point, but that can change fast. Stay sharp."
"Copy," Scarlet acknowledged.
The elevator slowed, its ascent becoming gradual, then stopping completely. Arthur felt his heart rate increase, adrenaline beginning its familiar burn through his system. The doors would open soon. Beyond them lay the world humanity had lost, ruled now by machines that had driven them underground.
The doors opened.
Gray light flooded in, natural illumination that seemed impossibly bright after the Ark's artificial glow. Arthur's eyes adjusted, and he got his first glimpse of the surface.
Ruins stretched in every direction. What had once been a shopping district was now a graveyard of collapsed buildings and twisted metal, nature reclaiming everything with aggressive vegetation. Trees grew through broken windows, vines covered concrete, and the streets were cracked expanses where weeds pushed through asphalt. The sky above was overcast, heavy clouds promising rain, creating a perpetual twilight that made everything look diseased and dead.
The silence was profound. No traffic, no voices, no sounds of civilization. Just wind moving through empty structures and the distant sound of something metallic scraping against stone.
"Welcome to the surface," Scarlet said quietly. "Stay close, watch your corners, trust your squadmates."
They moved out in tactical formation, Arthur in the center with Scarlet on point, Nyx covering their six, and Lyra already scanning for elevated positions. The air smelled different topside—rain and rust and something organic rotting. Arthur's boots crunched on debris as they advanced into the ruined district.
"First waypoint is northeast, three hundred meters," Shifty provided. "Former pharmacy, likely to have surviving medical supplies in the basement storage."
They moved through skeletal remains of shops and restaurants, past overturned vehicles slowly dissolving into rust, through intersections where traffic lights hung dead and useless. Arthur kept his rifle ready, sweeping potential threat vectors, his prosthetic fingers steady on the grip.
Lyra peeled off, scaling a partially collapsed structure with inhuman agility. Within seconds she was in position, her sniper rifle trained on their route. "Overwatch established," her voice came through the comm-link.
"Movement," Nyx said suddenly. "Contact right, two hundred meters."
Arthur saw it then—a shape moving between buildings, mechanical and predatory. His first Rapture. It was smaller than he'd expected, maybe two meters tall, humanoid in basic structure but clearly machine. Its armor was dark gray, covered in strange symbols that might have been circuitry or language. Red optical sensors swept the area, searching.
"Scout class," Scarlet identified, her voice calm. "Normally we'd avoid engagement, but it's blocking our route."
"Can you take it?" Arthur asked Lyra.
"Difficult angle, but yes. Say the word."
Arthur considered their options. Stealth was preferable, but the Rapture was moving toward their position. Waiting meant losing initiative.
"Take the shot," he decided.
Lyra's rifle cracked once, the sound sharp and violent in the dead city. The Rapture's head exploded in a shower of sparks and metal fragments. Its body collapsed, servos dying, systems going dark.
"Contact down," Lyra reported. "Clean kill."
"More coming," Nyx warned. "That shot drew attention."
Arthur saw them then—three more Raptures emerging from different directions, their movement patterns coordinated and deliberate. Scout class, but working together, surrounding their position.
"Defensive formation," Scarlet ordered, her SMG already tracking targets. "Commander, you're about to get your first real combat test."
Arthur brought his rifle up, sighting on the nearest Rapture as it advanced. His prosthetic arms held steady despite the weapon's weight, decades of Outer Rim survival instincts merging with Academy training. The Rapture's optical sensors locked onto him, red light focusing with predatory intensity.
It charged.
Arthur opened fire, the rifle's recoil absorbed by his augmented arms and reinforced skeleton. Rounds struck the Rapture's center mass, sparks flying from impact points. The machine stumbled but kept coming, its armor absorbing damage that would have shredded a regular human.
Scarlet's SMG joined the assault, concentrated fire shredding the Rapture's leg joints. It collapsed, and Nyx finished it with a precision rocket that reduced the machine to scattered components.
"Two more!" Scarlet warned.
Lyra's rifle cracked again, catching one Rapture in its optical cluster. Blinded, it fired randomly, energy weapons scoring the street with superheated plasma. Arthur and Scarlet flanked it, coordinated fire taking out its remaining sensors and mobility systems.
The final Rapture reached their position, moving with frightening speed. Arthur barely rolled aside as its blade-arm slashed where he'd been standing, the weapon carving through concrete like tissue. His prosthetic legs responded instantly, mechanical reflexes faster than human nerves, getting him back on his feet.
Nyx met the Rapture head-on, using her rocket launcher as a club to deflect its next attack. The impact would have shattered a human's arms. Nyx just grinned and kicked the machine backward with enough force to crack its torso plating.
Arthur aimed for the exposed components, firing carefully placed shots that punched through damaged armor into critical systems. The Rapture spasmed, error codes flashing across its optical display, then collapsed in a shower of sparks.
Silence returned to the dead city.
"Contact clear," Scarlet announced, sweeping for additional threats. "Everyone intact?"
"Affirmative," Lyra confirmed from overwatch.
"Good to go," Nyx said, checking her launcher's ammunition.
Arthur's heart was racing, adrenaline singing through his system, but his hands remained steady. The prosthetics had performed perfectly, no hesitation, no malfunction. He'd fought alongside his squad and survived his first Rapture encounter.
Scarlet approached him, crimson eyes assessing. "You held your ground. Didn't freeze, didn't panic, didn't try to be a hero. Good combat discipline."
"Told you I wasn't deadweight."
Her expression shifted, something that might have been respect crossing her features. "Yeah. You did."
"That was actually impressive," Nyx added, genuine approval in her voice. "Those prosthetics aren't just for show. You can actually fight."
"The augmentation works," Arthur confirmed, flexing his goddesium fingers. "I'm not as strong or fast as you three, but I can hold my own."
"That's more than we expected," Lyra said through the comm-link, her tone warmer than before.
Shifty's voice crackled into their link, excited and relieved. "Excellent work, Squad Thirteen! Tactical coordination was beautiful, clean kills, minimal ammunition expenditure. You guys are already working like a real team!"
Arthur looked at his squad—these women labeled defective, expendable, mass-produced equipment. They were looking back at him differently now, the tentative respect of soldiers who'd seen a comrade prove themselves in combat.
"Mission's not over," Scarlet reminded them. "We've got five hours and three hundred meters between us and the first supply cache. Let's move."
They continued into the ruins together, a squad of outcasts in the dead world above, having survived their first real test. Arthur felt his prosthetic hands steady on his rifle, his augmented legs carrying him forward without falter.
The surface was hell. But he wasn't facing it alone.