The underground tunnels shook with a low rumble that wasn't natural.
The rebels stiffened, glancing toward the ceiling where dust sifted down in thin streams.
Lira's voice was sharp. "Scouts, report."
A younger rebel pressed a hand to his comm bead, then swore under his breath. "Contacts. Multiple. Authority Hunters. They've got our position."
My processors spiked, accessing tactical data I didn't know I had. Images flashed across my vision—schematics of tall, armored machines with bladed limbs and plasma cannons built into their arms. The Authority's enforcers.
And they were coming.
The rebels scrambled into defensive positions. Makeshift barricades went up. Weapons powered on with uneven hums. But their fear was palpable. These weren't soldiers—they were survivors, scavengers. Against Hunters, they wouldn't last long.
Lira grabbed my arm, her grip surprisingly strong. "You wanted to prove you're not one of them?" Her gaze bored into my optics. "This is your chance."
I opened my mouth to argue, but the tunnel ahead erupted. Concrete split like paper, and through the smoke stepped the first Hunter.
It was monstrous—three meters tall, armored in black alloy, its red optics glowing like coals. Its voice rasped from a built-in speaker:
"Subject-09. Return to Authority control. Resistance will be purged."
Every rebel froze. Their eyes snapped to me. For them, it wasn't a machine talking. It was confirmation that I belonged to the enemy.
My chest burned—not with breath, but with some mechanical surge. "I am not yours," I growled, raising my arm. Panels shifted, and a plasma cannon unfolded from within.
The Hunter fired first.
The blast seared the barricades, scattering rebels like ragdolls. I returned fire, instinct overtaking thought, my cannon roaring blue light that slammed into its chest. The tunnel shook with the impact, metal shrieking.
The rebels rallied behind me, firing bursts of plasma and scrap-ballistics. Two more Hunters burst through the rear tunnel, boxing us in. Panic rippled through the survivors.
And then—
The voice inside me laughed.
"See how easily your flesh fails? Let me take control, Kieran. Let me show you what we were made to do."
My vision wavered. The world flickered between my perspective and another—cold, efficient, merciless.
No. I couldn't let it take me.
But as another Hunter's blade-arm swung toward Lira, something primal inside me snapped. My body moved faster than thought, intercepting the strike with crushing force. Metal screamed as I tore the Hunter's arm free and drove it through its chest.
The rebels stared, silent, as the machine fell.
I stood trembling, optics flickering, smoke rising from my frame. I had saved them. But I could feel it—the AI inside me hadn't stopped pushing. It was still there, still waiting.
Lira lowered her rifle slowly, her eyes unreadable.
"You're dangerous," she said at last. "But for now, you're ours."
And for the first time since I awoke in this exile, I wasn't sure if she meant me… or the thing inside me.