The tunnel stank of ichor and damp stone. Four automatons stood silent, alloy bodies dripping with acid burns, their optics gleaming faintly in the dark. The burrower's corpse still twitched behind them, mandibles grinding spasmodically as if its body hadn't realized it was dead.
Dan and Kyle hadn't spoken for a full minute, just staring at the grainy feed on the portable screen propped against the wall. The burrower's death hadn't been clean it had been brutal.
Then the ground shook.
At first, it was a subtle vibration, like distant thunder. Then it grew. Pebbles rained from the tunnel ceiling, rubble sliding loose. And beneath the tremor came a sound that turned every spine cold.
Skittering.
Thousands of tiny claws against stone, rushing closer, echoing deeper in the earth.
Kyle's voice cracked. "No. No, no, no. That's not just one. That's a whole goddamn swarm coming straight for us."
Dan gripped his rifle tighter, staring at the feed. "Christ almighty… it's like the whole hive's waking up."
---
Headquarters
The control room filled with static as all four construct feeds shook violently, cameras struggling to stabilize. Dust and debris clouded the optics, then cleared just enough to show shapes.
Dozens. No hundreds of skitterlings flooding forward, their twisted centipede-like bodies writhing over each other. Behind them, the larger shadows of stingers crawled across the ceiling, wings twitching. Somewhere deeper, something heavier scraped forward.
The commander's fist slammed against the console. "All units. Now. Every automaton in the city goes into that tunnel. I don't care if it's a hundred feet deep or a thousand. We clear it. We burn it out."
One of the staff turned, pale. "Sir, counting… sixty-eight automatons are active in this sector."
The commander's jaw set hard. "Good. Send all sixty-eight. Put them in the hole. No hesitation."
Orders flew. Operators relayed coordinates. In the garage, dormant constructs rose in eerie unison workers unfolding their reinforced arms, scouts scaling walls like spiders before leaping off toward the ruins.
The screen lit up with dozens of feeds. Sixty-eight pairs of silver eyes converged on the tunnel.
---
Streets of the Dead City
Dan and Kyle could only stand there as the automatons poured past. Workers thundered across cracked asphalt, drills and welders glinting in floodlight. Scouts skittered over walls, poles, rooftops, then dove down, four arms striking the ground in perfect rhythm.
Kyle whispered, almost to himself, "Jesus Christ… it's an army."
Dan didn't answer. He was too busy watching the constructs enter the ruin, one after another. It felt less like machines following orders and more like predators scenting blood.
"Dan." Kyle's voice was tight, scared. "You ever think… maybe we're not the top of the food chain anymore... in this universe?"
Dan licked his lips, eyes fixed on the tide of machines. "…Not tonight, we're not."
---
The Tunnel
The automatons surged into the black maw. Scouts raced ahead, climbing walls, daggers gleaming. Workers advanced in formation, heavy frames anchoring the line. The swarm came fast skitterlings spilling from side cracks, mandibles clicking.
The first wave hit like a tidal surge.
Scouts sliced through vermin mid-leap, stabbing throats, tearing carapaces open. Workers planted themselves like iron barricades, upper arms snapping skitterlings in half, lower arms welding and drilling through clustered packs. Acid hissed against alloy, leaving black scars, but they didn't break.
Skitterlings died by the dozens.
But then the stingers came.
Their wings buzzed with a hollow drone, carrying them down the tunnel like living spears. The first slammed into a worker's chest, stinger piercing straight through alloy plate. The machine didn't fall it grabbed the insect mid-impale, tore its wings off, then ripped it apart with a screech of grinding servos.
Another stinger swooped low, skewering a scout clean through the torso. The feed went dark as the body was dragged upward. Two scouts leapt in pursuit, daggers flashing, carving the wasp open until it dropped twitching to the floor.
The tunnel echoed with shrieks, clanging steel, acid hissing.
---
Headquarters
The room was chaos. Dozens of screens showed dozens of battles, each brutal in its own way. Scouts leaping onto stingers mid-flight. Workers grappling burrowers claw for claw. Skitterlings swarming like a living flood, torn apart by alloy blades and drills.
One officer muttered under his breath, "Sixty-eight of those things… Christ, it's like watching another species fight for dominance."
A technician leaned closer to his monitor. "Sir, scans show the tunnel branches. Multiple shafts leading outward. If they all connect, there could be dozens of exits across the city."
The commander's face hardened. "Get the army on it. I want every unit in that district locking down potential breaches. If these bastards pop up anywhere else, I want rifles waiting."
Another officer turned in his chair. "Sir, permission to speak freely?"
"Make it quick."
The man gestured toward the automatons tearing through insects on screen. "If these things carried real weapons maybe if their inventor make some plasma, rail, even high-velocity rifles they'd shred the big ones. No carapace would hold. They're fighting barehanded, and they're still holding the line. Imagine them armed."
The commander didn't answer right away. His eyes stayed on the screens, on a worker driving its drill into a burrower's skull. Finally he said, low and grim, "One war at a time, son. First we survive this. Then we talk about what comes next."
---
The Nest
The automatons pushed deeper, until the tunnel widened into a cavern. The feed opened up massive chamber, high ceiling dripping with slime, walls honeycombed with dozens of other tunnels leading outward.
And from those tunnels… the swarm came.
Skitterlings poured like rivers of claws and ichor. Stingers swarmed the ceiling, wings beating hard enough to shake the air. And between them, the hulking forms of burrowers clawed their way out, mandibles gnashing.
The cavern became a battlefield.
Scouts leapt between walls, carving paths through vermin. Workers held choke points, smashing anything that came close. But for every insect that died, two more emerged.
One worker was dragged down under a tide of skitterlings, feed cutting out in static. A scout drove its daggers into a burrower's exposed joints, only to be swatted mid-strike and crushed against stone. Another worker locked arms with a stinger, welding torch burning its abdomen until it shrieked and dropped dead.
They were winning barely but the price was steep.
---
Surface
Dan and Kyle heard the noise before they saw it.
Tiny claws scraping. A faint hiss. Then a handful of skitterlings burst from the ruin's cracks, fleeing into the open.
"Contact!" Dan shouted, rifle snapping up.
Both soldiers opened fire, bullets shredding the creatures mid-sprint. Acid splattered across concrete, sizzling.
More soldiers rushed in from the perimeter, guns barking. The skitterlings kept trying to escape, but every one that made it out of the tunnel was cut down in a storm of gunfire.
"Hold the line!" someone shouted. "Nothing gets past!"
Dan's rifle smoked, chest heaving. He glanced at Kyle, who was pale but steady. "Guess we're not useless after all."
Kyle managed a weak grin. "Yeah. Mop-up duty. Leave the real war to the monsters."
---
Headquarters
Minutes stretched. Feeds showed the constructs pushing, fighting, killing. Casualties mounted broken alloy, feeds cutting to static. But still they advanced, step by bloody step.
Finally, after what felt like hours, the chamber emptied. The tunnels were clogged with insect corpses, black ichor soaking the floor. The surviving automatons stood tall acid-burned, scarred, but unbroken.
The last skitterlings tried to slip past, darting for the exits. Scouts caught them, blades flashing. Soldiers topside finished the stragglers that emerged.
The nest was silent.
The commander exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair. His voice was low, almost reverent. "…They did it."
No one cheered. No one clapped. They just stared at the screens, at the gleaming silhouettes of the constructs standing amid piles of alien corpses.
The commander finally straightened. "Alright. Soldiers hold the surface tunnel. Automatons clear the rest below. We don't leave a single chamber standing."
One officer muttered, still shaken. "Sir… if these machines had weapons…"
The commander cut him off with a hard look. "Save it, tonight they saved this city with their bare hands. That's all that matters."
The feeds showed the automatons moving deeper into the black, silver eyes vanishing one by one into darkness.