Killy, Lane, and Junior stood in the derelict subway station, the air thick with the scent of decay and rust. They had just emerged from the tunnels beneath the Ascendancy city, the rusted door behind them still creaking on its hinges, its faded warnings barely legible in the dim light. Cracked tiles lined the platform, graffiti scrawled across the walls in jagged, pre-Cutoff script, a testament to a world long gone. The faint hum of Ascendancy drones patrolled above, their sensors sweeping with a cold, mechanical rhythm, the sound filtering down through the ceiling. Lane signaled for them to stay low, his LED-lit jacket casting faint shadows as he led them toward a ceiling hatch, its ladder rusted but intact, creaking under his weight as he tested it.
Killy’s heart pounded, a mix of hope and dread colliding in his chest. The kids—Clay, Nora, Reese—were so close now, their suffering a weight he could feel through the city above. The Shill’s taunts from his dream echoed in his mind, a cruel reminder of the stakes. He glanced at Junior, the boy’s eyes wide with a mix of fear and determination, his small hand gripping the edge of Killy’s canvas jacket. “Stay close, kid,” Killy said, his voice firm but steady. “We’re near them now. I can feel it.”
Junior nodded, his trust in Killy unshaken despite the looming danger. Sprocket, perched on Lane’s shoulder, twitched nervously, his cybernetic eyes glowing a soft blue as he scanned the station, tiny body still jittery from the patrol fight they’d barely survived in the tunnels. The squirrel let out a soft chitter, his, tail flickering yellow, a sign of unease and apprehension.
Lane’s UV flashlight slashed through the darkness, illuminating the station’s decay as he climbed the ladder to the hatch. “This leads to street level,” he said, his tone clipped, focused. “We’re directly under the central district now. The spire’s close, but so are the patrols. Ascendancy drones are everywhere up there—sensors will pick us up if we’re not careful.” He interfaced his Ascendancy-tech device with the hatch’s lock, the screen glowing faintly as it worked. A sharp beep echoed in the station, the hatch groaning open, revealing the faint glow of the city above.
Killy followed Lane up the ladder, Junior close behind, Sprocket scampering after them, his claws clicking softly against the rungs. The Ascendancy city hit Killy like a fist as they emerged into a narrow alley, the hatch sealing behind them with a dull thud. Spires soared into the sky, their glass and metal surfaces pulsing with force fields—shades of blue and violet shimmering like living things. Floating vehicles hummed through the air, their sleek forms casting shadows on the streets below, while citizens moved with mechanical efficiency under the watchful sensors of drones and clankers. The tallest spire loomed ahead, its eerie pulse a beacon—the Lattice, where the kids were held, their suffering a silent scream in Killy’s mind.
Junior’s eyes widened, his small frame trembling as he took in the city’s cold grandeur, the lights reflecting in his gaze. “So big,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the hum of a passing vehicle. “All this tech… why’re they such assholes, Lane? Why not share it?”
Lane crouched beside him, his jaw tight, his voice bitter as he scanned the alley for threats. “It’s not shared here, kid. Ascendancy’s a class system. I was elite once, but even I couldn’t touch the top tech—the free energy, the life extensions, all of it hoarded by the highest ranks. Most people here are just cogs, controlled by fear and empty promises. The real power’s locked away, out of reach.”
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Killy’s fists clenched, rage boiling in his chest as he listened. “The future’s never been equally distributed, Junior,” he said, his voice raw, the words echoing in the alley as a drone passed overhead, its sensors momentarily sweeping past them. “Pre-Cutoff, some had it all—tech, lives—while we scraped by with nothing. The Ascendancy took that inequality and built this cage, burned us out to keep it. They don’t care. That’s why we fight—to take it back.”
Junior nodded, his resolve hardening as he stroked Sprocket, who had jumped down to nuzzle his leg, letting out a soft chitter of comfort, his glowing eyes warm in the alley’s shadows. “We’ll save them, Killy—Clay, Nora, Reese. They don’t belong here,” Junior said, his voice steady despite the fear in his eyes.
“Damn right,” Killy replied, ruffling the boy’s hair, a fierce determination burning in his chest.
Lane guided them through the maze of alleys, using the shadows as their shield, his knowledge of the city cutting a path toward the central district. The architecture loomed around them, cold and unyielding, the air thick with the hum of drones and the distant shouts of soldiers. Lane whispered the layout as they moved—force-field barriers blocked main routes, clanker patrols roamed the streets, but service corridors offered some cover. Their progress was steady, each step bringing them closer to the spire, until a drone locked onto them from above, its red sensors flaring, an alarm shrieking through the alley.
Lane fumbled with his jammer, cursing under his breath, but it was too late—the signal was out. The roar of approaching clankers echoed through the streets, their mechanical limbs pounding the pavement, plasma blades gleaming in the artificial light. “Run!” Lane yelled, his voice sharp with urgency.
Killy scooped Junior into his arms, the boy clinging to him as they sprinted through the alley, Sprocket a gray blur beside them, his tail flickering red in alarm. They wove through the narrow passages, ducking under pipes and leaping over debris, the clankers’ sensors locked onto their heat signatures. Killy drew the Trident, nanobots surging to life, and fired a green plasma bolt over his shoulder. The energy struck the pursuing drone, shattering it in a burst of sparks, but more clankers closed in, their roars growing louder, their tentacles slashing at the air.
Lane led them to a derelict warehouse, its rusted door hanging off its hinges. He shoved it open, ushering them inside before slamming it shut, the clang of metal echoing in the cavernous space. The clankers’ roars grew closer, their sensors sweeping the area, the walls trembling with the force of their approach. Killy set Junior down, the boy’s breaths coming in quick gasps, Sprocket nuzzling against him, offering a soft chitter of reassurance, his eyes glowing a steady blue.
Lane peered through a crack in the wall, scanning the street outside, his expression tense. “Spire’s just a few blocks away,” he panted, his voice low. “But this heat’s locked down the district. We need a plan to breach the perimeter, or we’re done.”
Killy tightened his grip on the Trident, the nanobots humming eagerly in his veins, a fierce determination settling in his chest. “We’ll find a way,” he said, his voice a vow, unwavering in the face of the odds. “We’re not stopping now.”
