The filter on Jake's mask made every breath sound like Darth Vader with asthma.
Hhh-krr. Hhh-krr.
"Visibility is dropping," Valentina's muffled voice came through the comms. "The fog is getting thicker."
They were wading through knee-deep sludge that glowed a sickly neon green. Every step sent ripples of slime outward, disturbing the dead, black reeds that spiked up like skeletal fingers.
"My boots are melting," Menzhinsky complained. He lifted a foot. The rubber sole was smoking, dripping grey goop back into the swamp.
"Don't stop moving," Yuri's voice instructed from Jake's wrist. "Standing still increases acid damage accumulation. Keep walking to reset the tick counter."
"Tick counter?" Taranov grunted, smashing a path through the reeds with his wooden club. "I feel like I'm being digested."
"Warning," Yuri droned. "Filter integrity at 80%. We are burning time."
Jake checked his HUD. The green bar representing his mask's life was slowly ticking down.
"Boris said five miles," Jake said. "We've walked three."
"Maybe he lied," Oppenheimer wheezed. "Maybe he sent us here to die so he could loot our corpses."
"He sold us the masks," Jake countered. "Dead customers don't buy upgrades."
A bubble burst in the swamp next to them.
GLORP.
It smelled like rotten eggs and burning plastic.
"Movement!" Taranov froze.
The surface of the swamp rippled. Something large was moving under the slime.
"Crocodile?" Valentina aimed her pistol at the water.
"No," Yuri said. "Analyzing wake pattern. Too mechanical."
A periscope broke the surface.
It was rusty, covered in green algae. It rotated, its lens fixing on them with a single, unblinking red eye.
"It's a drone sub!" Taranov realized.
The swamp exploded.
A machine surged out of the muck. It looked like a crab made of Soviet tank parts. It had six hydraulic legs and a turret mounted on its back.
"Swamp Walker!" Yuri identified. "Level 15. Armored!"
The machine let out a steam-whistle shriek. Its turret spun.
"Scatter!" Jake roared.
RAT-TAT-TAT.
Heavy machine gun fire tore through the reeds. The bullets were tracers, glowing angry red in the fog.
Jake dove behind a rotting log. The wood splintered as bullets chewed it up.
"It has a shield!" Oppenheimer screamed, pointing at the blue energy field flickering around the walker.
"Taranov! Distract it!" Jake ordered.
"With what? A stick?"
"With your aggro!" Jake yelled. "Make it hate you!"
Taranov stood up. He roared a challenge that shook the fog.
"Hey! Crab-face! Over here!"
He threw a rock. It bounced harmlessly off the blue shield.
The walker turned. Its red eye locked onto Taranov.
"Target acquired," a synthesized voice boomed from the machine.
It charged. The hydraulic legs churned the mud, closing the distance terrifyingly fast.
"Shoot the eye!" Jake commanded.
Valentina and Oppenheimer opened fire.
PEW. PEW.
The green plasma bolts hit the shield. They flared, weakening the blue field, but didn't penetrate.
"Shield integrity at 70%!" Yuri reported. "We need more DPS!"
Jake looked at his chrome arm. Admin Tool.
"I'm going to punch it," Jake decided.
"That's suicide!" Valentina yelled. "It's a tank!"
"It's code," Jake corrected. "And I have the delete key."
He sprinted.
The mud sucked at his boots. The acid burned his legs. He didn't care.
The walker was focused on Taranov, raising a massive pincer claw to crush him.
"Now!" Jake screamed.
He leaped.
He landed on the walker's back, right next to the turret.
The metal was hot. The shield buzzed against his skin, stinging like a swarm of bees.
"Accessing!" Jake slammed his chrome palm onto the hull.
ERROR. FIREWALL DETECTED.
The walker bucked like a rodeo bull. It spun in a circle, trying to throw him off.
"Hold on!" Yuri shouted. "Brute forcing the password!"
The turret swung around. The barrel was inches from Jake's face.
"Yuri!"
"Almost... Got it!"
Jake's arm glowed white. The blue shield around the walker flickered and died.
"Shield down!" Jake roared. "Kill it!"
Taranov charged. He jammed his wooden club into the exposed hydraulic joint of the front leg.
CRUNCH.
The leg buckled. The walker stumbled, listing to one side.
Valentina ran up. She shoved her pistol into the red eye lens.
"Smile," she hissed.
BLAM.
Green plasma exploded inside the machine's head.
The walker screeched—a sound of tearing metal. Sparks showered the swamp. It collapsed into the mud, twitching.
+150 XP.
The text floated up.
Jake slid off the wreck. He was breathing hard. His mask filter beeped. 60%.
"Is it dead?" Menzhinsky peeked out from behind a tree.
"Disabled," Jake kicked the hull. "Good loot?"
"Scrap metal," Taranov ripped a plate off the chassis. "And... look at this."
He pulled a heavy, rectangular box from the wreckage. It was glowing with blue light.
"A power core," Oppenheimer identified. "Fusion battery. Still active."
"Can we use it?"
"If we find something to plug it into," Oppenheimer shrugged. "Like a tank."
"Let's find the tank," Jake said. "Before the acid eats our boots."
They pushed deeper into the swamp. The fog turned a darker shade of green. The trees became more twisted, their branches forming a canopy that blocked out the purple moon.
"Structure ahead," Yuri announced. "Bunker 4."
It wasn't a building. It was a hill. A massive concrete door was set into the side of a mossy ridge.
The door was sealed. A keypad next to it was rusted shut.
"Keycard," Jake snapped his fingers.
Oppenheimer handed him the blue card they took from the cyborg.
Jake swiped it.
BEEP. ACCESS DENIED.
"What?" Jake stared at the red light.
"It says 'Insufficient Clearance'," Yuri read the text on the small screen. "This card is for Level 1 access. The bunker requires Level 2."
"We walked through acid for nothing?" Taranov growled. He punched the concrete.
"Wait," Jake looked at the keypad. "It's rusted. The wires are exposed."
He looked at his chrome finger. It had a small port on the tip.
"Yuri," Jake said. "Can we hotwire it?"
"Risky," Yuri warned. "If the security system detects a hack, it might vent the atmosphere inside. Or activate turrets."
"Do it," Jake said. "We're out of options."
He jammed his finger into the exposed wiring.
Sparks flew. Jake's vision went white.
He was inside the network.
He saw lines of red code streaming past. FIREWALL. FIREWALL. LOCK.
He visualized his hand as a key. He turned it.
ACCESS GRANTED.
With a groan of ancient hydraulics, the massive door cracked open.
Stale air rushed out. It smelled of oil and dust.
"Masks off," Oppenheimer checked his sensor. "Air is clean inside."
They pulled the filters off. Jake took a deep breath. It tasted like a garage.
"Lights," Jake ordered.
Taranov threw a flare into the dark.
Red light illuminated a massive hangar.
It was filled with crates. Rows and rows of them.
"Supplies!" Menzhinsky ran to a crate. He pried it open. "Rations! Real food! Canned beef!"
"Weapons!" Taranov opened another. "Assault rifles! AK-47s! And ammo!"
"Jackpot," Valentina grinned, grabbing a rifle. She checked the action. "Oiled. Ready to fire."
But Jake wasn't looking at the crates.
He was looking at the back of the hangar.
Under a heavy canvas tarp, something massive was sleeping.
"Is that it?" Jake whispered.
He walked over. He grabbed the edge of the tarp.
He pulled.
Dust billowed.
Revealed underneath was a tank.
But not just any tank.
It was a T-34. But the tracks weren't treads. They were hover-pads. The main gun wasn't a cannon. It was a railgun with glowing blue coils.
The hull was painted black with red trim.
"The Object 279," Oppenheimer breathed. "The hover-tank prototype. They built it to survive a nuclear shockwave."
"Does it run?" Taranov asked, climbing onto the hull.
He opened the hatch. He dropped inside.
"Battery is dead," Taranov shouted from inside. "Controls are dark."
"The power core," Jake realized. "The one from the walker."
"Bring it here!"
Taranov grabbed the heavy fusion battery. He jammed it into the slot behind the driver's seat.
VROOOOM.
The tank hummed to life. The hover-pads glowed blue. The massive machine lifted a foot off the concrete floor, drifting silently.
"It floats!" Taranov laughed maniacally. "I'm driving!"
"We have a ride," Jake said, patting the cold armor.
"Wait," Valentina called out. She was standing by a terminal on the wall. "Jake, look at this."
Jake walked over.
The screen was flickering. It showed a map of the region.
But there was a flashing red dot moving toward them. Fast.
"What is that?"
"A signal," Valentina said. "It's broadcasting on a priority frequency."
"Play it."
She hit a button.
Static filled the hangar. Then a voice cut through.
"To any survivors in Sector 7... This is The Director. We have detected unauthorized admin access at Bunker 4."
The voice was cold. Digital.
"Surrender the anomaly," the Director said. "Or we will deploy the Purge Protocol."
"He means you, Jake," Oppenheimer whispered. "The anomaly."
"He knows we're here," Jake said.
"Purge Protocol in T-minus two minutes," the computer announced.
"We have to go!" Jake shouted. "Load up!"
They scrambled onto the tank. Taranov revved the hover-engine.
"Where to?" Taranov yelled.
"North," Jake said, climbing into the commander's hatch. "To Neo-Moscow."
"We're going to the guy who wants to kill us?"
"He has the server access," Jake said. "If we want to fix the world, we have to take his throne."
The tank drifted out of the bunker, its railgun gleaming in the moonlight.
Behind them, the swamp began to boil.
The Purge was starting.