Vlad stepped up to the terminal, which was seamlessly integrated into the white ceramic wall. As he inserted the silver flash drive, the airlock's surface rippled with blue light. A digital voice, cold and synthesized, echoed through the gorge: "Aegis Protocol recognized. Welcome back, Director."
With a heavy, pressurized hiss, the massive slabs of reinforced glass and ceramic slid apart. A gust of chilled, sterile air rushed out, smelling of ozone and old secrets.
"Director?" Vance muttered, his magnetic-accelerator bow already raised and notched. "Tom's got some explaining to do if he's using those kinds of login credentials."
They stepped inside, their boots clicking against the polished white floor. The airlock cycled behind them with a final, echoing thud, plunging them into a long, hexagonal corridor illuminated by pulsing floor strips. Unlike the Nashville mansion, this place felt alive—not with people, but with the hum of a massive, sentient machine.
As they moved deeper, the walls transitioned from ceramic to transparent viewing panels. Vlad slowed his pace, his eyes narrowing. Behind the glass were rows of stasis pods, each containing humanoid shapes draped in a shimmering, synthetic gel.
"Vlad," Vance whispered, his drones hovering erratically as they scanned the room. "These aren't humans. Look at the bone structure."
Before Vlad could respond, a siren began to wail—a low, melodic tone that vibrated in their very marrow. At the far end of the hall, a second set of doors began to open, and a squad of "The Hollow" operatives—clad in obsidian armor that seemed to swallow the light—stepped out, their weapons glowing with a lethal violet energy.
"Well," Vlad said, the high-frequency vibro-blade in his hand humming to life with a fierce blue glow. "I guess they were expecting us."
"Good," Vance replied, his fingers releasing the first hypersonic bolt. "I was getting bored anyway."
Vance slammed a button on his wrist-mounted decryptor, shouting, "Cover your eyes!"
A localized EMP pulse rippled outward, a shimmering distortion in the air that let out a high-pitched crack. The violet glow in the Hollow operatives' weapons flickered and died, their energy rifles let out a pathetic hiss of escaping gas as the internal batteries fried. The obsidian-armored guards stood frozen for a split second, confused by the sudden failure of their superior tech.
"My turn," Vlad growled.
He moved like a blurred streak of grey and blue. The vibro-blade hummed with a lethal, high-frequency whine as he closed the distance in a heartbeat. The lead guard tried to raise an unpowered rifle to block, but Vlad's blade sliced through the reinforced metal and the obsidian chest plate as if they were made of warm wax.
Vlad didn't stop. He spun, his movements fluid and brutal, carving a path through the squad.
* The first guard lost his arm and half his torso in one clean diagonal sweep.
* The second tried to engage in hand-to-hand, but Vlad stepped into his guard, driving the vibrating edge through the man's helmet.
* The third was kicked back against a stasis pod, and before he could recover, Vlad's blade punched through the glass and his armor simultaneously, pinning him to the machinery.
The vibro-blade left glowing, cauterized lines in its wake, the air filling with the smell of scorched ozone and melting composite. Vlad was a whirlwind of precision, using the guard's weight against them, pivoting on his heels to deliver decapitating strikes that the heavy armor couldn't hope to deflect.
Vance provided the rhythm to Vlad's melody, his magnetic-accelerator bow thumping as he fired hypersonic bolts into the joints of the guards' armor—knees, visors, and necks—dropping anyone who tried to flank his partner.
In less than a minute, the hallway was a graveyard of obsidian shards and deactivated tech. Vlad stood in the center of the carnage, his blade still humming, the blue light reflecting in his dark, cold eyes. He flicked the bloodless blade to the side, the vibration shaking off the last remnants of dust.
"Clear," Vlad said, his voice steady even after the exertion.
"The EMP fried their comms, too," Vance said, walking up while reloading a fresh quiver of bolts. "But that siren is still going. We need to reach the core before they realize their front door just got kicked in by a pair of ghosts."