CRAAASH!
Chunks of concrete and rebar exploded outward as Six, clad in Power Armor, burst through the crumbling wall of the ancient facility. Sparks danced across the reinforced plating as he skidded into the stage room, his blaze luminous shield protected him from any lucky hits.
Behind him, Rebecca charged through next, her custom pink-and-green armor gleaming in the dim emergency lighting. Boone followed with military precision, aiming his Varis rifle backward and firing in tight bursts to cover the others.
Raul, grumbling in Spanish but keeping pace just fine, slid in with his heavily modified armor. Twig looked absolutely terrified but kept moving, his power armor practically dragging him forward.
Cassidy let out a loud "Whoo! Never thought I'd be happy to see a damn stage!" as she rolled in, shotgun ready. Veronica grinned like it was a Brotherhood training sim gone wild, fists glowing with power-fist energy, and Roger — the last one in — tossed an EMP grenade into the hallway just before the wall sealed again.
The room dimmed briefly as the grenade detonated, knocking a few holograms offline for precious seconds.
Huddled at the center of the room, under the protective ring formed by the armored squad, were Kiwi, Falco, Dean, Rex, and ED-E. Kiwi clung to Falco, eyes wide as the sound of plasma fire echoed behind them. Rex barked once, trying to herd the group tighter. ED-E let out a warning chirp, his sensors spinning wildly.
Rebecca quickly knelt beside Kiwi, shielding her with her body.
"We've got ya', choomba."
She whispered fiercely.
Six glanced at the others.
"We need a fallback position. These holograms aren't going to give up."
Boone, already checking his ammo, replied.
"The backstage elevator's still operational. Could lead to a service tunnel."
Veronica cracked her knuckles.
"Then let's make it a show."
Six's HUD flickered from red to amber as he locked onto Twig's vitals.
"You're not dead, but you're leakin."
He grunted, stomping over as the younger man groaned.
Twig barely managed to prop himself up.
"Am I dead...? Because I want to be..."
He muttered, pulling off his helmet with a hiss of depressurization. Blood trickled from a fresh gash above his brow, matting his hair and staining the inside of the helmet.
But no one answered him.
Six's eyes narrowed behind his visor. The others stood frozen—Rebecca's mouth slightly open, Boone gripping his rifle too tightly, Raul going still mid-sarcastic quip. Veronica had raised her fists… and then just stopped.
The air in the stage room suddenly felt too cold, the hum of power packs and respirators deafening in the silence.
Twig blinked up at them, squinting through the blood.
"Why's everyone—?"
He turned his head.
And saw it.
The stage behind him had activated.
"WHAT THE FUCK!!"
Twig's scream pierced the heavy air like a rail spike. His eyes were wild, locked onto the nightmare unraveling on stage.
There—towering like a metal monolith of rage—Maine stood in full cyberpsychotic fury.
Veins of glowing red ran through his chrome-soaked frame, eyes lit with bloodlust, as he brought his massive cybernetic fist down again and again in a sickening rhythm, pounding what little was left of Pilar into the polished stage floor. Bone and gray matter splattered across the tiles like paint thrown by a mad artist.
Gasps and curses erupted from the team, but no one moved.
Beyond Maine's brutal display, the rest of the scene clarified—and it was hellish.
Rebecca—another version of her—lay crumpled near center stage, her left arm missing completely. Blood gushed in spurts from the torn socket, her eyes still flickering with life and pain as she dragged herself slowly, desperately away from Maine's rampage.
To her left, Sasha was pinned on a shattered vanity table, both of her arms twisted grotesquely in the wrong direction—elbows where wrists should be. She was conscious, jaw clenched tight enough to break teeth as she tried to free herself.
And near the back, Lucy was slumped against a broken dressing screen, her face bruised and swollen, blood seeping from split lips and brow. Her breathing was shallow, one eye swollen shut, and one leg bent wrong beneath her.
Kiwi's muttered.
"That's… cyberpsychosis. Full-blown."
"Welcome to the fucking future."
Falco whispered grimly, pulling Kiwi behind a speaker stack, shielding her with his body.
ED-E and Rex beeped and barked anxiously, unsure whether to approach or flee.
"No, no, no, no, no—"
Rebecca whispered, taking a step forward, but Six caught her by the arm his HUD blaring red from the sight of so many life signs crashing all at once.
Twig staggered to his feet, helmet under one arm, blood trickling down the side of his face. He looked at Rebecca—the other Rebecca—mangled, motionless, her blood pooling on the pristine Sierra Madre stage like some grotesque painting.
"Shit… shit, shit, shit, shit!"
He screamed in panic, only to be yanked back by Roger, who grabbed him dragging him behind cover.
"Don't be stupid, dumbass!"
Roger snapped, eyes wild.
"There's nothin' wrong with me. They're the ones losing it, I'm the only sane one around!"
Maine shook his head.
"Just keep runnin', the minute I slowdown is the moment I'll go..."
He mutters to himself, standing up stalking toward the mangled bodies of Rebecca, Sasha, and Lucy, his grotesque, cyberpsychotic smile widening as he approached them, eyes glinting madly.
Rebecca's scream tore through the room like gunfire.
"YOU CRAZY BACKSTABBING PIECE OF SHIT!"
The words weren't just anger—they were grief, betrayal, and raw horror wrapped into one. Her voice cracked, her eyes wide with tears and fury as she shoved Six's arm off and launched herself at Maine, her Power Armor's servos shrieking under the force of the boost.
CRASH!
Rebecca slammed into Maine with the force of a missile, taking him clean off his feet and through the ornate back wall of the Sierra Madre stage, showering splinters, drywall, and pieces of gold-trimmed paneling across the floor. The two vanished in a burst of toxic red mist from the Cloud seeping outside, their battle spilling into the death zone beyond.
"Rebecca—!"
Six roared, immediately following, motioning to Boone and Raul.
"Keep the others safe—NOW!"
Boone barked orders as he ran:
"Cassidy, Veronica! Get the others stabilized! Raul, with me—cover Six's advance!"
"Shit! Shit!"
Cassidy was already moving to Lucy, tossing her helmet aside to check for a pulse.
"On it!"
Veronica snapped back, moving fast.
Inside the ruined stage, Rebecca whimpered crawling away, Lucy was barely conscious, while Sasha—still pinned—let out a broken cry. Veronica worked like a machine, her gauntlet speckled in blood as she applied medigel and set emergency splints.
"She's alive—but barely!"
She called out.
"Sasha's critical, Lucy's unconscious, and that guy Maine—Maine's gone! He's too far gone!"
Kiwi knelt near the other Rebecca's body—the mangled one left in Maine's wake—her face pale and empty, hands trembling as she clutched her near lifeless form.
"She was like a little sister to all of us."
She whispered hoarsely.
"And he just—he just—"
Roger grabbed her by the collar and pulled her back.
"We mourn later. Six needs us on overwatch, now."