The weapon roared, the sound deafening in the enclosed space. Kasper's exoskeleton absorbed the massive recoil as the pulse detonated between the approaching operatives. Their copper ports flared with sudden overload, connections failing in a cascade of sparks and confused movements. For critical seconds, they operated as individuals rather than a unit, their coordination shattered like dropped crystal.
Torres struck immediately, his modified MAB 38 firing with surgical precision. The sound echoed off metal walls, a percussion of calculated violence. Copper-disruption cores found their targets—not center mass, but enhancement ports at wrists and temples. Two operatives collapsed, systems temporarily disabled, their bodies twitching with uncontrolled impulses.
The remaining pair recovered quickly, seeking cover behind reinforced containers. One fired back, enhanced targeting finding Torres with unnerving accuracy. The veteran soldier ducked just in time, the round impacting the wall behind him with a shower of sparks and concrete dust.
Vega flanked with surprising speed for his size, his footsteps reverberating through the metal flooring. His reinforced MAB created calculated destruction, the alternating pattern of explosive and standard rounds like an industrial rhythm. Not aimed at the operatives, but at their cover.
The containers disintegrated in a shower of metal and composite, leaving the ATA forces exposed. Kasper seized the moment, executing a lateral leap across the chamber, KS-23 firing mid-air. The high-impact round caught the nearest operative in the shoulder with a sickening crack of impact, spinning him away without killing him.
The final operative managed one more shot, copper ports blazing with combat intensity. The round would have caught Diaz at her terminal, but Kasper was already moving, calculating trajectories instinctively. His reinforced plating took the impact meant for Diaz with a sound like a hammer striking anvil.
Pain flared along his side, hot and immediate, but his medical systems responded instantly, flooding his system with enhancement-integrated painkillers. The sudden absence of pain felt almost like euphoria as he rolled to his feet, KS-23 finding its target with inhuman precision.
The final operative collapsed, copper ports cycling shutdown as the disruption round overloaded his neural systems. The man's eyes rolled back showing whites, his body convulsing before going still.
Silence fell across the chamber, broken only by the soft hum of technology and distant alert tones that sounded like electronic birds. The smell of ozone and cordite hung in the air, the aftermath of violence that had lasted mere seconds.
"Three minutes until diagnostics complete," Diaz reported, fingers dancing across the terminal with uncanny speed. Her youth showed through in her excitement, eyes bright despite the danger. "Supply node restoration at forty percent." Her enthusiasm for tech operations showed in her rapid-fire commentary. "These encryption protocols are gorgeous. Almost artistic."
Kasper moved to cover her position, scanning for threats as Torres and Vega secured the fallen operatives. His exoskeleton adjusted to compensate for the damage to his side, the mechanisms whirring slightly louder than before. He tasted blood—he'd bitten his cheek during impact.
"Status?" he asked, controlling his voice despite the pain beginning to seep through the chemical dampening.
"All down, non-lethal," Torres confirmed, the practiced calm of a battlefield medic in his tone. His weathered hands checked pulses with practiced efficiency. "Temporary disruption only. They'll wake in twenty minutes, pissed off but alive."
"By which time we'll be gone," Kasper concluded. He turned to Diaz. "Supply node?"
"Protocols engaged," she confirmed, ports flashing success patterns like a celebratory light show. "Primary network access established. Secondary systems coming online." Her fingers blurred across the interface, leaving ghost images in their wake. "Accessing Operation Crucible files now. This data structure is... strange. Almost organic."
A warning sensation surged through Kasper's enhanced senses, like the electric feeling before a lightning strike. He detected electromagnetic signatures others couldn't, copper concentrations approaching from multiple vectors, more powerful than standard configurations.
"Command-level operators incoming," he warned, KS-23 already tracking. "Eastern corridor. Three signatures. Advanced copper integration." The metal beneath his feet vibrated subtly with approaching footsteps—too light, too precise to be standard operatives.
Torres moved to position, weapon ready, his scarred face hardening in preparation. "Configuration?"
"Something new," Kasper admitted, detecting unfamiliar patterns. The approaching signatures glowed differently in his enhanced vision—not the standard copper orange but something closer to molten gold. "Significantly more advanced than anything we've seen."
The eastern doors slid open with the whisper of perfectly maintained machinery, revealing three figures silhouetted against harsh light. Unlike standard ATA operatives, they moved with fluid grace, copper ports glowing with unusual intensity. Through his mask, Kasper could see the complexity of their neural architecture—copper webs spreading beneath skin in patterns that mirrored his own silver adaptation. Their movements carried the unsettling harmony of professional dancers rather than soldiers.
"Prototypes," he realized, the implications hitting him like physical force. Something cold settled in his stomach as understanding dawned. "They're testing enhancement protocols similar to my condition."
The middle figure stepped forward, studying Kasper with clinical detachment that made his skin crawl. Their eyes met across the chamber, and in that moment, Kasper knew this confrontation had been inevitable all along.