Day 28.
The Roof (Sector 1).
Sauget, Illinois.
05:45 Hours.
The Enclave didn't come with fanfare this time. They didn't send a lieutenant with a megaphone.
They sent the fog.
I was on the roof, scanning the horizon through the scope of the Barrett M82. The dawn was grey and silent. Too silent. The birds that usually picked at the carrion in the Gutter were gone.
"Atmospheric shift," Boyd's voice crackled in my ear. He was in the server room, wired directly into the sensors. "Pressure dropping rapidly at the perimeter. Chemical signature detected."
I looked down.
A yellow-green mist was rolling across the courtyard. It flowed like heavy water, spilling into the trenches of the Gutter, curling around the wreckage of the dump truck.
It wasn't fog.
Chlorine gas.
"Seal the vents!" I roared. "Boyd, kill the intake fans! Full seal!"
"I'm trying!" Boyd shouted. "The servos are jammed with ash from the Fuser fire! Sector 4 intake is stuck open!"
Sector 4. The ventilation shaft that fed directly into the Lung.
Where Helen and Yana were sleeping.
My stomach dropped. Chlorine gas turns to hydrochloric acid when it hits the moisture in your lungs. It dissolves you from the inside out.
"Travis!" I yelled. "Hold the North Gate! Don't let them breach!"
I dropped the sniper rifle. I didn't run for the stairs. I vaulted the railing.
I triggered Regression Echo.
[ECHO ACTIVE: DAY 30 STATS.]
[DURATION: 20 SECONDS.]
I hit the concrete of the Level 2 gantry and kept moving. The world turned grey. The yellow gas hung in the air, motionless in my accelerated perception.
I sprinted toward the Sector 4 intake.
The gas was already there, a heavy cloud seeping through the stuck louvers.
I took a breath, held it, and dove into the cloud.
My skin began to burn immediately. The gas reacted with the sweat on my arms, turning into acid. I ignored it. Cruelty dampened the pain signals.
I reached the manual override wheel. It was rusted shut.
I grabbed it with both hands. I pulled.
SCREECH.
Metal sheared. The louvers slammed shut, cutting off the flow of gas.
But the room was already full of it.
I kicked open the door to the Lung.
Helen was on the floor, coughing, clutching her throat. Yana was trying to drag her toward the scrubbers, but she was stumbling, her eyes streaming tears.
The Echo ended.
The pain hit me like a truck. My skin felt like it was on fire. My lungs, despite holding my breath, burned from the ambient exposure.
"Get up!" I choked out.
I grabbed Helen by the back of her vest. I grabbed Yana by the arm.
"The scrubbers!" I wheezed. "Get to the scrubbers!"
I dragged them to the industrial air filtration unit. I shoved their faces against the intake, where the air was pure oxygen.
Helen gasped, retching. Pink foam bubbled at her lips.
"Jack," she wheezed. "You... you came back."
I looked at my hands. The skin was red, blistering. I spat a glob of blood onto the floor.
"Inefficient to lose the medic," I rasped. "And I need the Shadow."
Yana looked at me. Her eyes were red, swollen, but she saw through the lie. She saw the burns on my arms.
"They're breaching," I said, pulling the Fang .45. "Stay here. Breathe."
I limped back into the hallway.
The North Gate.
06:10 Hours.
The gas was just the softener. Now came the hammer.
I emerged onto the catwalk overlooking the courtyard. The wind had shifted, blowing the remaining chlorine away, revealing the assault force.
Four APCs—Strykers with mounted grenade launchers. One hundred soldiers in full MOPP-4 hazmat gear.
And leading them, walking calmly through the chemical haze, was a man in a pristine exoskeletal frame.
Colonel Hale.
He didn't look like a soldier. He looked like a algorithm made flesh. His movements were precise, economical.
`[THREAT: COLONEL HALE (ADMINISTRATOR CLASS).]`
`[ABILITY: TACTICAL OPTIMIZATION.]`
"Target the big one," Hale ordered. His voice wasn't amplified; it was projected directly into my HUD via a high-level System override.
Two soldiers with military-grade flamethrowers stepped forward. They aimed at Travis.
Travis stood at the gate, holding his club-arm like a shield. He roared, charging them.
"Burn him," Hale said.
FWOOSH.
Two streams of napalm hit Travis.
He didn't stop. He was a Tank. His skin was stone. But fire is physics.
His flesh blackened. The smell of cooking meat filled the air. Travis screamed—a sound of pure rage—and threw his sledgehammer.
It hit the fuel tank of the left flamethrower.
BOOM.
The soldier exploded in a ball of blue fire.
"Paige!" I shouted. "Now!"
On the roof of the barracks, Paige stood up. She held a crate of Molotovs—our homemade diesel-styrofoam mix.
She started throwing.
She wasn't accurate, but she was fast. Bottles smashed against the APCs, splashing sticky fire over the viewports.
"Yana!" I keyed the comms. "Sewer flank!"
"On it," Yana's voice came back, rough from the gas.
A manhole cover behind the Enclave line exploded upward.
Yana surged out of the ground. She was a blur of Shadow Step motion. She appeared behind the rear guard.
Slash. Step. Slash. Step.
Three heads rolled before the soldiers even turned around.
But Hale... Hale didn't panic. He looked at the chaos like he was reading a spreadsheet.
"Adjust," Hale said.
He pointed at the Command Deck. At me.
"Decapitation strike."
He activated his exo-frame. Jump jets on the back flared.
He launched himself into the air.
He landed on the catwalk, ten feet from me. The metal groaned under the weight of his armor.
He looked at me. His eyes were blue—Administrator blue. Cold. Perfect.
"Jack Monroe," Hale said. "Rank 201. Your efficiency rating is... messy."
"It works," I said, raising the Fang.
I fired.
Hale moved. He didn't dodge; he optimized. He shifted his weight three inches to the left. The bullet pinged off his shoulder plate.
`[ENEMY ABILITY: PRECOGNITION.]`
He lunged.
He hit me with a pneumatic punch. It felt like being hit by a car. I flew backward, crashing through the office window. I landed on the map table, glass shattering around me.
My ribs cracked.
Hale stepped through the broken window. He drew a monofilament sword.
"You use the Root's tools," Hale said, walking toward me. "Cruelty. Mutation. Chaos. You are a cancer in the System."
"I'm the cure," I wheezed.
I triggered Regression Echo.
The world slowed.
I rolled off the table as Hale swung the sword. The blade sliced through the holographic projector, sparking.
I grabbed a shard of glass from the floor.
I sprinted.
Hale saw it coming. He pivoted, bringing his armored forearm up to block.
But I wasn't aiming for him.
I aimed for the floor.
I slammed the glass shard into the Command Deck Power Coupling exposed by the shattered table.
ZZZT-POP.
A 400-volt arc flash exploded between us.
Hale's exo-frame seized. The electronics screamed. He froze, locked in place by his own armor.
I stood up, panting. Blood dripped from my nose.
"Inefficient," I spat.
I grabbed the heavy steel chair from the corner and swung it with everything I had.
CLANG.
I hit him in the helmet. The visor cracked. Hale stumbled back, his servos whining.
Outside, a massive explosion shook the building.
"APC down!" Boyd yelled over the comms. "Satchel charge detonated! They're pulling back!"
Hale looked at his HUD. He saw the losses.
"Retreat," Hale ordered.
His jump jets flared, sputtering. He launched himself backward, out the window, landing heavily in the courtyard.
"Pull back!" he commanded his troops. "Sanitization failed. Regroup at Bravo."
The Enclave retreated. They moved in perfect order, covering their withdrawal with smoke grenades.
I slumped against the ruined map table.
The Infirmary.
08:00 Hours.
The cost. Always the cost.
Eight Nulls were dead. Their bodies were lined up in the mud outside.
Travis sat on the floor. His left shoulder was a mass of third-degree burns. The skin was gone, revealing the grey muscle underneath.
I offered him a serum vial.
"No," Travis grunted. He pushed my hand away. "Save it. For someone useful."
"You are useful," I said. "You're the wall."
"Wall's burnt," Travis said. "It'll scar over. Armor."
I looked at Helen. She was sitting on a stool, holding an oxygen mask to her face. Her breathing was a wet rattle. The chlorine had scarred her lungs. She would never run again.
"You saved us," Helen wheezed, lowering the mask. "You came into the gas."
"I protected the assets," I said.
"Bullshit," Helen said. She tried to smile, but it turned into a coughing fit. "You're a terrible liar, Jack."
Boyd was in the corner. He was unconscious. He had tried to disable an EMP mine and taken a massive shock. His hands were twitching.
I walked out to the courtyard.
Yana was there. She was limping. A piece of shrapnel was embedded in her thigh.
"Let Helen look at that," I said.
"No," Yana said quickly. Too quickly. She covered her stomach with her arm. "I'm fine. Just a scratch."
I looked at her with Decay Sight.
`[YANA: PREGNANT (8 WEEKS).]`
`[FETUS STATUS: ANOMALOUS.]`
I knew. She didn't know I knew.
"Okay," I said. "Get some rest."
I climbed back to the roof.
I picked up the Barrett. Five rounds left.
I looked at the retreating dust cloud of the Enclave.
They hadn't won. But they hadn't lost, either. They had tested us. And they had found out that we bled.
`[BATTLE REPORT: STALEMATE.]`
`[RANKING UPDATE: 184.]`
`[DAYS REMAINING: 2.]`
We were Rank 184. We were in the safe zone.
But looking at my broken crew, at the burnt walls, and the grey sky... I didn't feel safe.
I felt like I was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
FOUNDRY PROTOCOL - DAY 28
SECTOR 1 (JACK MONROE) ████████░░ 8/10 Nodes
RANK: 184 (Top 200)
STATUS: BATTERED
Casualties: 8 Nulls
Injuries: Travis (Burned), Helen (Lung Damage), Boyd (Coma)
Loot: Enclave Encryption Keys
Next Event: The Prophet's Offer