The third cache yielded better results than Arthur had dared hope. Medical supplies, mostly intact, packed in sealed containers that had survived a century of neglect. Antibiotics, surgical tools, diagnostic equipment—treasures the Ark desperately needed. Nyx loaded the containers with casual efficiency, her enhanced strength making the work look effortless.
"That's four out of six locations secured," Shifty reported through the comm-link, her usual enthusiasm tempered by professional focus. "You're making excellent time. Resource recovery is exceeding projections by thirty percent."
"Rapture activity?" Scarlet asked, scanning their perimeter while Arthur and Lyra covered the opposite approaches.
"Increasing. You've stirred up the local population. Nothing coordinated yet, but you've got scattered contacts converging on your general area." A pause, then Shifty's voice carried a note of concern. "Recommend you consider extraction after the next cache. The risk-reward ratio is shifting."
Arthur checked their tactical display, noting the red markers indicating Rapture signatures spreading across the ruined district like blood in water. They were being hunted now, the machines responding to the intrusion into their territory.
"One more location," he decided. "Then we extract with what we have."
"Your call, Commander," Shifty acknowledged.
They moved through the skeletal remains of what had been a department store, past mannequins frozen in permanent retail smiles, their plastic faces weathered by decades of exposure. Merchandise lay scattered and rotting, the commercial dreams of the old world reduced to garbage. Arthur's prosthetic legs carried him over debris without hesitation, the goddesium components responding with precision that felt increasingly natural.
"Fifth cache is northeast, approximately four hundred meters," Lyra reported from her position at rear guard. "Former electronics retailer, likely to contain intact components."
"Long stretch of open ground," Nyx observed, studying the route ahead. "Not ideal with increased Rapture presence."
"We move fast and stay tight," Scarlet said. "Commander, you good for a sprint?"
Arthur flexed his prosthetic legs, feeling the synthetic muscles and enhanced servos ready themselves. "Lead the way."
They crossed the exposed section in rapid movement, Arthur keeping pace with his squad despite his augmentations being inferior to their full Nikke specifications. The modifications Sal had given him were holding up better than expected, no system failures, no unexpected malfunctions. Just steady mechanical performance that let him function as a real member of the team rather than dead weight to be protected.
The electronics store was a hollowed shell, its interior gutted by fire at some point in the past century. But the basement access remained intact, concrete stairs descending into darkness where flames hadn't reached. Nyx took point, her enhanced vision cutting through the gloom, while the rest of the squad followed in tactical formation.
The cache was there, exactly where intelligence had indicated—reinforced containers holding circuit boards, power cells, and computational components that would be invaluable for the Ark's maintenance systems. Arthur felt a surge of satisfaction as they began extraction. This mission was succeeding despite Command's obvious expectation of failure.
"Contact!" Shifty's voice cut through the comm-link with urgent intensity. "Multiple signatures, incoming fast from the west. Classification: Ant-type Raptures, approximately fifteen units. And Squad Thirteen, you've got a master-class signature with them. Barbell-type. This is serious opposition."
Arthur's training clicked into place, tactical assessment running through his mind with cold clarity. Fifteen scout-class enemies plus a master-class commander. Underground position was a death trap. They needed elevation, fire lanes, and room to maneuver.
"Surface, now," he ordered. "Nyx, Lyra, get to elevated positions with overlapping fields of fire. Scarlet, you're with me on ground level. We'll use the storefront ruins as cover and create a fighting retreat that funnels them into your kill zones."
His squad moved without hesitation, months of combat experience responding to competent orders with fluid precision. They emerged from the basement just as the first Raptures came into view.
Arthur had thought the scout-class machines were disturbing. The Ant-types were nightmare fuel. Each stood roughly two meters tall, insectoid bodies covered in segmented armor plating that moved with organic fluidity. Six legs carried them with horrifying speed, and their forelimbs ended in blade-like appendages that could shred steel. Red optical sensors clustered on their heads like compound eyes, tracking with predatory intensity.
Behind them, larger and more menacing, the Barbell-type advanced. Four massive legs supported a body easily three meters long, shaped like some ancient beetle magnified to monstrous proportions. Its armor was heavier, scarred from previous battles, and its weaponized forelimbs crackled with energy that suggested ranged capabilities beyond simple melee.
"Engaging," Nyx announced from her position atop a partially collapsed parking structure. Her rocket launcher spoke, the explosive round catching two Ant-types in a blast that scattered mechanical components across the street.
"Confirmed hits," Lyra added, her sniper rifle tracking with inhuman precision. Another Ant-type fell, its optical cluster destroyed by a perfectly placed shot.
Arthur and Scarlet opened fire from behind the cover of overturned vehicles and concrete barriers, their weapons adding to the defensive barrage. The Ant-types kept coming, moving with coordinated intelligence that spoke of the Barbell's command protocols directing their assault.
"They're trying to flank," Scarlet warned, her crimson eyes tracking multiple vectors simultaneously. "Commander, three breaking left!"
Arthur shifted position, his prosthetic legs launching him to new cover with speed that surprised even him. He opened fire on the flanking Ant-types, rounds striking their segmented armor with minimal effect. The machines kept advancing, their blade-arms carving through obstacles like paper.
"Arthur!" Scarlet's voice cut through the combat noise with rare use of his first name. "The cores! Aim for the glowing red cores in their chest cavities! Center mass shots waste ammunition!"
He adjusted his aim, focusing on the crimson glow visible between armor plates. His next burst caught an Ant-type directly in its core. The effect was immediate and dramatic—the machine seized, its systems cascading into failure, before collapsing in a shower of sparks.
"Better!" Scarlet confirmed, her own SMG demonstrating the technique with lethal efficiency. Two more Ant-types fell to her precision fire, cores punctured and critical systems destroyed.
The Barbell released a sound Arthur felt in his chest, a low-frequency vibration that might have been communication or simply rage. It charged, energy building along its forelimbs into visible crackling weapons.
"Master-class engaging!" Arthur reported. "Nyx, Lyra, priority target!"
Nyx's rocket struck the Barbell's armored carapace, the explosion impressive but seemingly ineffective against the heavy plating. Lyra's shots tracked for vulnerabilities, finding gaps in the armor but failing to penetrate to critical systems.
"It's too heavily armored for standard approaches," Lyra assessed, frustration edging her normally calm voice.
Arthur watched the Barbell advance, his tactical mind processing options. The master-class was herding them, trying to box them in while the remaining Ant-types completed the encirclement. Standard doctrine would be to call for extraction, retreat before the superior force.
But retreating meant abandoning the supplies. Meant returning to the Ark with partial success, confirming expectations that Squad Thirteen was just another expendable unit that couldn't complete difficult missions.
"Scarlet," Arthur said, his prosthetic hands steady on his rifle despite adrenaline singing through his system. "That Barbell has to have a core somewhere. Bigger machines, bigger power requirements."
"Probably underneath," she replied, immediately understanding his tactical thinking. "The belly armor is always weakest. But getting that angle means close quarters with a master-class. That's suicide."
"Or it's victory." Arthur checked his ammunition, calculating odds and angles. "I'll draw it in. You get underneath and core it."
"Commander, that's—"
"An order," he interrupted, meeting her crimson eyes across the battlefield. "You're faster, stronger, and more experienced. I trust you to make the kill. Do you trust me to create the opening?"
Scarlet stared at him for a heartbeat that felt eternal. Then something shifted in her expression, walls coming down that had been there since their first meeting in Bay Twenty-Three.
"Don't die, Arthur," she said quietly. "I'm just starting to like you."
She moved before he could respond, circling wide while Arthur stepped from cover and opened fire on the Barbell. His rounds sparked off its heavy armor, completely ineffective but accomplishing the goal of drawing its attention. The master-class' optical sensors locked onto him with mechanical hatred.
It charged, energy weapons crackling with lethal intent.
Arthur stood his ground, firing controlled bursts that forced the Barbell to maintain its frontal approach, keeping its vulnerable underside away from easy targeting. His prosthetic legs were tensed, ready to dodge at the last possible moment, buying Scarlet the seconds she needed.
The Barbell closed to twenty meters. Fifteen. Ten.
"Now!" Arthur dove left, his enhanced reflexes barely fast enough to avoid the energy blast that superheated the air where he'd been standing.
Scarlet appeared underneath the Barbell like a crimson ghost, her SMG aimed upward at point-blank range. She fired a sustained burst directly into the exposed core, the concentrated fire punching through weaker belly armor into critical systems.
The Barbell's scream was mechanical and agonized, systems failing catastrophically. It collapsed sideways, servos seizing, energy weapons dying in flickering bursts. Scarlet rolled clear, coming up beside Arthur as the master-class machine gave a final spasm and went dark.
The remaining Ant-types, suddenly without command coordination, became easier targets. Nyx and Lyra picked them off methodically while Arthur and Scarlet provided supporting fire, cores destroyed in quick succession.
Silence returned to the dead city, broken only by wind moving through ruins and the settling sounds of destroyed machinery.
"Contact clear," Scarlet announced, her voice carrying fatigue and something else—respect, maybe, or the beginnings of genuine trust. "All hostiles neutralized."
"Squad status?" Arthur asked, pushing himself upright with prosthetic arms that trembled slightly from adrenaline comedown.
"Mobile," Nyx reported, descending from her position. "Took some shrapnel from near misses. Nothing critical."
"Ammunition at forty percent," Lyra added. "Minor damage to targeting systems from debris impact. Functional but degraded."
Scarlet examined a gash across her left arm where an Ant-type had gotten too close during the final engagement. Synthetic skin was torn, revealing mechanical components underneath. "I've had worse. We're operational for extraction."
Arthur looked at his squad—damaged but standing, victorious against odds that should have destroyed them. The supplies were secured, the mission accomplished despite Command's expectations.
"Shifty, we're ready for pickup," he reported. "Objective complete, all resources secured."
"Outstanding work, Squad Thirteen!" The operator's enthusiasm came through clearly. "Extraction team is en route, ETA fifteen minutes. Get to the designated pickup zone and I'll have you home before you know it."
They gathered the resource containers and began moving toward extraction, tired but unbroken. Arthur noticed Scarlet staying closer to him than tactical spacing required, her crimson eyes occasionally flicking in his direction with an expression that was hard to read.
"That was either brilliant or insane," she said finally. "Drawing a master-class charge."
"Worked, didn't it?"
"This time." But her tone wasn't angry. "Most commanders would have ordered retreat. Preserved their own survival over mission completion."
"I'm not most commanders."
"Yeah." Scarlet's voice carried something that might have been warmth. "I'm starting to figure that out."
The extraction elevator was waiting when they arrived, its industrial doors open like a gateway back to humanity's refuge. Arthur took one last look at the dead world above before stepping inside with his squad.
They descended together, victorious and damaged, four outcasts who'd just proven themselves more effective than anyone had expected.