Oliver looked down at his right arm. The gauntlet, which moments ago had been a weapon of impossible power, was now inert, its sophisticated composite material dull and dark. He gently ran his left hand over the cold, dead surface, feeling the precise, segmented articulation where the glowing circuits used to pulse. He felt the sharp, immediate pain in his shoulder, the fatigue in his core, the human limits that the device had temporarily—and brutally—overridden.
"Hey Eric, what's up with these things?" Oliver asked, his voice rough from exertion and the residue of fear. He pushed himself off the wall, wincing slightly, and walked over to the console where Eric was still hunched over his multi-tool, securing the final pieces of data, his small frame visibly shaking from the adrenaline dump and the trauma of watching the Juggernaut dissolve feet away.
Eric looked up immediately, his eyes widening as he noticed the change in the device. "It looks… shut down," he murmured, his gaze scanning the inert metal. He tentatively reached out and touched the gauntlet, then quickly pulled his hand back, checking his multi-tool for immediate diagnostics. "Wait, the console is still receiving residual energy signatures from it. Very faint, but they're there."
He quickly pulled up the original "Prototype Unit 001" schematics from the downloaded log, cross-referencing the power readings. "Okay, the log specifies that the gauntlets run on a contained Plasma-Kinetic Matrix—it draws on ambient kinetic energy and the wearer's bio-electrical field to generate and amplify force. But the power core itself is highly sensitive to extreme, prolonged stress."
Eric pointed to a section of the schematic that showed the energy output levels. "You pushed it, Oliver. Hard. Way past its operational limit. The log has a specific warning about 'Overload and Protective Shutdown.' When the force amplification reached a critical threshold, the matrix initiated an emergency hard-lock. It completely isolated the power core to prevent a full matrix collapse, which the data suggests would have been highly explosive."
Oliver flexed his fingers, the gauntlet moving stiffly now, without the seamless, organic grace it had possessed minutes ago. "So it broke, but didn't explode. Small favors."
"It's not broken, exactly," Eric corrected, zooming in on a complex diagram of the power cell. "It's in a deep sleep. A survival mode. The core needs to completely dissipate the excess energy it absorbed and generated, and run diagnostics. Think of it like a capacitor that's been drained and severely overloaded. The schematics suggest a cool-down and recharge period. With external power—which we don't have now—maybe 12 to 18 hours. Without it, drawing only from ambient sources and your own body heat... it could take two to three days before it comes back online."
Elizabeth joined them, placing a comforting hand on Oliver's less-bruised arm, her relief at his survival tempering her concern. "Two or three days. That's a long time to be this vulnerable, especially knowing what we know now."
"More than vulnerable," Oliver corrected, his gaze intense as he looked at the second, pristine gauntlet still resting on the display stand. He walked over and picked it up. It felt just as light, just as solid, and just as ready, but lacked the subtle hum the first one had possessed before he'd put it on. "The other one. It's fully charged, right?"
Eric checked the log, nodding with certainty. "Yes. The display stand provided a constant, low-level charge and maintenance cycle. It's ready to go. Fully operational."
Oliver nodded. He carefully took off the dead gauntlet and placed it on the floor, the metallic clang echoing the end of its fight. He picked up the second one and, without hesitation or a moment of debate, slid his right hand into it. The moment his fingers settled into the articulated segments, the gauntlet came alive. A smooth, strong hum resonated up his arm, immediately accompanied by the familiar, intense warmth and the overwhelming sense of latent, restrained power. The glowing circuits pulsed steadily, a silent promise.
"It seems you can only wear one at a time," Elizabeth observed, relieved but still wary of the powerful technology.
"Maybe," Oliver said, flexing his gauntlet-clad hand, testing the renewed strength. "Or maybe two is just unnecessary overkill. But this gives us options. We don't have time to wait three days. When this one overloads, I'll switch to the other. It's a temporary, rotating advantage. A consumable weapon. And we'll need every advantage we can get for what comes next." He looked pointedly at Eric, his eyes now hard with the focus of a commander.
"Elysium Prime," Eric stated, meeting Oliver's gaze, the gravity of the coordinates and the downloaded data settling upon him like a shroud. He pulled up a map overlay on the console, illuminating the target. "The log has detailed schematics of the bunker, and a general logistics plan. It's 300 kilometers northwest, as we figured. The most direct route from here is via a main geothermal transit line—an old, abandoned magnetic rail system running deep beneath the mountains. It's damaged, but likely traversable, and it completely avoids surface exposure to the Blight and the unpredictable weather."
"Three hundred kilometers underground," Oliver summarized, his voice flat. "That means shifters, more automated defenses, and possibly more of the advanced Chimera strains they were developing, moving along the rail lines."
"Likely more Chimera," Eric confirmed, his voice grave. "The logs indicate they intended to transport their most stable and advanced subjects to Elysium Prime to continue the 'research.' We need to assume the bunker itself is heavily guarded by the Chimera collective, and by advanced automated systems. But the schematics contain the access codes for the geothermal transit line, and crucially, for the bunker's exterior defenses."
Oliver looked at Elizabeth, a silent conversation passing between them—a shared acknowledgment of the terrible, desperate journey ahead. They were leaving the relative safety of the sealed facility, plunging into the dark, hidden veins of the old world, heading straight for the epicenter of the Blight's creation.
"Okay, Eric," Oliver said, picking up his rifle and checking his remaining ammunition, his gaze hard. "Give us the fastest, most efficient route out of this vault and onto that transit line. We move out as soon as Clara is ready." He paused, scanning the remnants of the lab. His eyes landed on a large, heavy-duty backpack resting in a corner—a researcher's field kit, sturdy and well-made. He walked over, picked it up, and slung it over his shoulder, the gesture pragmatic and final. "This'll come in handy for carrying supplies. We have the data, we have a way to fight, and we have the destination. It's time to confront the architects."
He turned back to the door, his gauntlet humming, the small form of Clara quietly rising to join Eric's side. The faint green mist of the neutralized Juggernaut had dissipated entirely. There was nothing left in the Annex but the smell of ozone, the memory of loss, and a terrifying mission.