VIII – The Crimson Veil
Mark Tu-Lee's POV
"I am warning you. Come willingly, or I will be forced to make you." Mark Tu-Lee's voice cut through the tension.
Talgat spat blood onto the grated floor, a thin crimson line. "They're all the same." His jaw tightened. "I'd rather die than be forced to kneel again."
The back of Talgat's knuckles scraped across his lip, the right dagger flipping in a single motion, blade inverted, grip reversed. Blood streaked from his mouth, smearing across his cheekbone. His weight, instantanously shifted forward, eyes fixed on the exposed servos in Mark Tu-Lee's left knee, where the hydraulic seals pulsed with each adjustment.
Mark's right leg snapped forward in a frontal kick. Talgat clenched his side where the kick landed, but there was no pause. the reinforced toe plate whistling through empty air. The servos in his thigh whined as they reversed polarity, yanking the limb back with a hydraulic hiss.
Another strike followed immediately. He angled his left dagger upside down, stacking the right dagger behind it to form a cross-shaped guard. The kick struck again, sending sparks flying. His back slammed into the rail, which creaked under the force. The blade flared orange where it scraped the metal.
Mark Tu-Lee's right leg torso drove the leg back and he repeated the last time in a quickl motion, sending his leg flew above the rail, his hip twisted along with the momentum. However, Talgat, he evaded and stationing right behind Mark Tu-Lee. From the dark-tinted crimson light that was shown from the crimson lattice attached along side of the wall, Talgat's shadow had became larger than his opponent who was nearly a one forth taller than him.
Talgat pushed his right dagger inside the tiny seam were the spine had some small layer to let the wires came out, then he started yanking it, trying to cut some wires behind Mark.
Mark Tu-Lee's reflexive processor cycled through options in a half-second cascade. A crosshair overlay in his vision settled on the third tactical prompt: Disarm and Restrain. His head, arms, and legs twisted toward the rear in a single coordinated rotation, synthetic muscle bundles contracting in sequence until he faced Talgat directly.
Talgat still held the right dagger, the hilt now visible just before Mark Tu-Lee's face. The android's optical sensors registered the tight gripped by Talgat on the hilt of his dagger. Mark Tu-Lee's facial actuators malfunctioned, causing the right side of his cheek to twitch upward slightly, a spasm of intact synthetic skin beside exposed alloy. Talgat still clenching his teeth hard, his right hand hung tight at the dagger, now he even put both boots on the torso of Mark Tu-Lee. trying to yank it. and the more he tried, Mark Tu-Lee's unbeknown face twicked, flashing a smirked grin at Talgat.
"You fucking tincan, think this is funny." Talgat spat a blood-full spill right at Mark Tu-Lee's face.
Immediately, Mark Tu-Lee's right hand sprang from his side and slapped Talgat's left hand with precise force. The impact jarred the left dagger from Talgat's grip. It clattered against the railing, spun once, and dropped into the Thorium mining and extraction floor beyond Level 6-B. Talgat followed gaze until it past by his view.
"Damn you, Markkk," Talgat spat, the word a wet rasp. His left hand joined his right, both yanking at the dagger. He planted his knee against the android's back where the bulging part resembled muscle, shifting his entire weight into the effort.
Though, Mark Tu-Lee unfazed. On the contraary, his left hand jolted at Talgat's neck by the back, a grip measured to restrain, not crush. Talgat still yanked his right dagger at the seam, but the alloy beneath proved unyielding. Instead, the actuators along his right cheek pulsed, synthetic skin torn at the seam. and once again that his right lip twitch upward uncontrollably. Talgat right hand immediately reached out to his pouch, he quickly piicked the emtied injector out. He gripped the handle tightly before pushing the injector aiming at Mark Tu-Lee's left eye.
The injector's tip struck Mark Tu-Lee's left eye with a dull click. His grip tightened around Talgat's neck, synthetic tendons flexing beneath torn dermal plating. Servos whined as his right leg pistoned forward—once, twice—each knee strike impacting Talgat's ribs with hydraulic precision. The injector tumbled from Talgat's fingers, clattering against the floor as his body jerked with each mechanical impact.
Talgat's ribs throbbed where Mark's knee had struck. The moment Mark Tu-Lee released him, his body slammed backward into the maintenance console's lid. The impact shuddered through the left-over equipment box sending loose components clattering inside. His breath hissed between clenched teeth as his fingers dug into his left side.
"Surrender," Mark Tu-Lee said, the words emerging from his vocal synthesizer with the same even cadence as a system status report. "You have lost both of your weapons, and one of ", Mark Tu-Lee turned toward where the injector fell off. "An emptied Injectable Hemostatic Hydrogel."
Talgat face remain dropped.
Mark Tu-Lee's polished silvery pupils remained fixed on Talgat. Threat assessment recalibrated.
On his UI:
Hostile intent probability: seventy-nine percent.
Uncertainty probability: eleven percent.
Combat resumption likelihood: one percent.
His polished silvery pupils flickered. A seam split down his spine where Talgat's dagger remained lodged—steam hissed through the gap as internal pressure escaped. His left hand shot up, fingers clamping around the hilt. The blade was pulled free.
Servos whined as his torso realigned, plates sliding back into place with mechanical precision. His right leg pistoned forward, then the left, each step measured. Cooling vents pulsed along his neck, cycling air through overheating systems.
Diagnostic lights flickered once behind his pupils before stabilizing. The steam dissipated. His gait smoothed into its usual rhythm as he advanced.
Mark Tu-Lee's head tilted upward with a faint metallic creak. Target condition stabilized. Minimal threat remaining. Cooling servos whirred along his torso, circulating air through his overheating systems. His polished silvery pupils tracked Talgat's slow shift away from the console's edge. Hostile movement potential low—eleven percent likelihood of renewed aggression. The leftward drift registered as less than fifteen centimeters, well within standard evasion parameters.
The man before him was in no condition to fight. Threat negligible, physiological distress confirmed. His pupils were blown wide, his chest heaving against sweat-slicked skin. No tension in the shoulders, no stability in the posture. Structural integrity compromise likely, medical extraction advised. The weight of defeat pressed down harder than any wound. Probability of further resistance below five percent.
His fingers unclenched slightly at his sides. No need for defensive posture. Still, his optics kept tracking the microtremors in Talgat's hands.
Then, Mark Tu-Lee's auditory sensors registered the faint whine of approaching units: Director Zhang Bo's signature frequency, plus several standard-tier security signatures. The data stream updated his tactical display. Reinforcements inbound. ETA: 90 seconds. His processing cycles allocated a fractional percentage to monitoring their approach vector. So he dropped the assessment.
Talgat's body uncoiled from its slump against the console. His fingers closed around the industrial spike as it slipped from the shuddering equipment box. The tool arced forward, tip aimed for the seam between Mark's optic sensors where the gyroscopic housing pulsed beneath.
Mark's head twisted just enough to avoid the spike's full trajectory. The tip still carved through the weakened plating on his left cheek, sinking into the gyroscopic housing beneath. His right arm shot forward in the same instant, knuckles slamming into Talgat's jaw with a muffled crunch. Talgat's head jerked back, limbs slackening before his body crumpled against the grating.
The gyroscopic hum in Mark's skull faltered. His left optic sparked, flickered, died. Coolant leaked in viscous silver threads from the gash, pooling around his ankle joints.
His knee buckled as the stabilizers cut out. The impact sent vibrations rattling through the catwalk grating, a metallic groan echoing through the hollow shaft. His frame slumped against the guardrail, coolant pooling beneath the fractured plating.
Kaodin's POV
Kaodin was en route toward the staircase leading up from B-2 when the emergency broadcast buzzed directly before his foot touched the first step.
The voice emerged from the speaker beside the elevator shaft, directly next to the staircase Kaodin was about to ascend.
"Kaodin." Zhang's voice crackled through the intercom by the elevator shaft. "Are you standing there? Answer me."
Kaodin whipped his head toward the sound. Wawa's ears twitched, pivoting to follow his movement. The spectral cub floated closer as Kaodin sidestepped to the intercom panel.
"Listening, Director," Kaodin said, fingers hovering near the worn speaker mesh.
Kaodin's fingers skimmed the rough edge of the intercom panel. The dim green light reflected off the elevator's mechanical counter as digits cycled downward.
"Director Zhang," Kaodin said, his eyes tracking the descending elevator's movement.
"You've seen the elevator approaching your level," Zhang Bo continued. "You need to reach the surface when it reached your floor."
Kaodin dipped his head slightly.
"And look, Kaodin, I'm so sorry, i actually wanted to send a helper, Mark Tu-Lee, my special militia android unit to help, unfortunately, he was severely damaged from fighting with Talgat earlier." Zhang paused.
Kaodin wound the white cloth strip around his knuckles, fingers moving with practiced precision. The fabric stretched taut against his skin, designed for adult forearms: too long for his small frame. He pulled the excess length up past his elbow, the material biting into the crook of his arm as he secured the final twist. The loose end tucked neatly beneath the layered wraps at his shoulder, both sides mirroring the same tight symmetry. His fingers tugged at the frayed red laces of his boxing shoes, the once-vibrant fabric now dulled by mud and rain. The knot resisted briefly before yielding to his grip. He bent at the waist, shoulders dipping as he rethreaded the lace through rusted eyelets. The shoes creaked faintly against the floor.
"In case you missed it," Zhang Bo said, his tone precise, "here's what led us here."
Cee-Ar-Tee POV
"Hey, Cee-Ar-Tee! Nice briefing today," Nick called from further back in the vault queue. His voice carried over the murmurs of other scavengers shuffling forward. "Better hurry back before Mrs. Hong gives you hell again."
Cee-Ar-Tee turned halfway, his arm raising slightly in acknowledgment as the line inched toward the vault's heavy metal door. The vault entrance resembled a pre-Collapse shopfront, its brick facade cracked but still standing at the settlement's northern perimeter.
"Good one, Nick," Cee-Ar-Tee called back, nodding to the handful of CSDS civilians still shuffling between them in line.
The eastern wall shattered outward in a spray of concrete and twisted rebar. The floor buckled beneath his feet, the tremor traveling up through his legs before the sound reached his ears. Dust plumed from ruptured pipes beneath the settlement's foundations.
His optics registered the pressure wave before his auditory sensors caught the blast's roar—structural failure propagating upward through the substructure.
"Move! Inside—now!" His voice cut through the chaos as he pivoted, instinctively mapping exits and threats in the same glance.
The queue jerked as one. The blast's aftershock pulsed through his sensors—a metallic ping resonating in his substructure. Heads snapped eastward just as the overhead lights flickered and died.
His optics adjusted instantly, registering the panicked faces frozen mid-turn, the sudden dilation of pupils as darkness swallowed the corridor.
"Still stuck in the elevator—what's happening?" a muffled voice echoed from the shaft below.
"Power's out," someone near the front yelled back. "Manual release, get yourselves out!"
"On it."
Cee-Ar-Tee's optics flickered as he processed the structural readings. Grid failure. Secondary systems unresponsive. "Civilians, inside the buildings now," he commanded, voice cutting through the chaos. "Await Zhang's autonomous directives." His arm swept toward the vault entrance, herding the queue forward with precise urgency.
Cee-Ar-Tee's optics locked onto the eastern corridor. His fingers dug into the iron pipe's pitted surface, knuckles bleaching white beneath synthetic skin. His right arm swung the blaster up in a single fluid pivot, servos humming as targeting sensors initialized. The corridor spat echoes—something hard striking metal, then another impact three meters farther south, each collision preceded by a dry scrape of bone against alloy. Joint servos whined as his stance compressed, then released him forward into the ruptured clearing.
"The power was out, so we dont have the luxury of the photogenic camouflage system anymore."
Metal scuffed against pavement outside, the familiar shift of scavenger boots pivoting mid-stride. Something heavy thudded against the outer wall, vibrating through his palm where it pressed against the concrete.
He raised his voice above the settling dust. "Nick! Throat-cut team on the northeast line!"
"Can your system patch through to Zhang?" Nick barked over the static.
Cee-Ar-Tee's optics pulsed as internal relays cycled through silent frequencies. No response signatures detected.
"Comms dead," he stated. His grip adjusted on the blaster stock. "We fortify until power restabilizes."
"Boys, you heard him. We hold here." Nick turned to Cee-Ar-Tee, grip tightening on his axe. "Clean up fast—wives and kids are waiting."
Dust billowed as the eastern section wall crumbled inward in a cascade of cracked metal and fractured concrete. Fire erupted from ruptured gun turret casings, the blast scattering gunpowder residue through the air. A low gnawling sound echoed from the breach—wet cartilage rubbing against exposed rebar. Four stumbling figures emerged, limbs elongating beyond human proportions. More carcasses scaled the two-story wall, their clawed fingers gouging divots in the metal. Others crawled through the blast-warped gap beneath the wall, torsos twisting sideways to squeeze through the mangled opening.
"Been too quiet lately," one of the scavengers yelled, pipe clanging against pavement. "Time we showed Zhang his militia ain't the only ones who can scrap."
"Amen to that!" Nick barked, hefting his axe as the others whooped. Blasters cycled with sharp metallic clicks; scav-forged steel flashed in the emergency lights.
Cee-Ar-Tee's optics pulsed, tracking the approaching horde. "East wall breach confirmed," he stated, voice devoid of inflection.
Nick spat on the cracked concrete, shifting his stance. "Right. Kids'll have to wait."
The scavengers cracked red-light tubes against the pavement, hurling the glowing fragments toward the wall's shadowed recesses. Dust swirled thick in the air, swallowing the corners in pulsing crimson shards..
"Where's Kevin?" The scavenger's voice cracked as the sound of a scuffle echoed from the perimeter. "Anyone see what just grabbed him?"
"Stop yelling," another hissed, pipe trembling in white-knuckled hands. "You know how they react to noise."
Cee-Ar-Tee's optics flickered as his HUD registered multiple heat signatures. He snapped the red-light tube against the base of the support pillar, the glowing liquid pooling around the photogenic system's disabled foundation.
"Over here!" he called, weapon cycling to target acquisition. The thermal overlay split his vision—cold blue lower-heat signature of reanimated corpse converging, red-orange human silhouettes scattering.
"Perimeter breach confirmed," Cee-Ar-Tee stated. His scanners pulsed with cold blue light. "Five human signatures unaccounted for." A brief pause – his optics tracking movement in the dust. "Two are already down."
Blasters barked in rapid succession—each shot snapping tendons and cracking rib cages. Scavengers swung pipes and crowbars at fallen CCs, the impacts sending bone splinters skittering across concrete. Severed limbs twitched where decaying nerve clusters still fired.
"Stay sharp," Cee-Ar-Tee barked, blasters cycling through targets. "Form up on me—now!" His shots punched through rotting rib cages, dropping CCs mid-lurch.
The scavengers scrambled toward his firing line, boots skidding in pooled crimson light.
"Keep those pipes ready," he warned, optics tracking movement along the perimeter. "They're flanking the west wall."
"The Crimson Veil Protocol activates," Cee-Ar-Tee observed as crimson latticework ignited across the settlement walls. His audio receptors caught the transmission buzzing through every HDI speaker: "Power restored. Credit goes to Mrs. Hong, Cee-Too, and Xiao Ying. Reinforcements inbound—hold position."
Crimson-light spilled across the area as the scavengers froze. Dozens of CCs pressed against the iron-barred glass panels of the building, their elongated fingers curling through the gaps. Inside, silhouettes of civilians clustered near the elevator shaft, its mechanisms groaning back to life.
He turned to Nick and the others, weapon systems cycling standby. "Power reroute successful." His optics tracked the emergent turrets sweeping thermal signatures along the perimeter.
From the perimeter wall, turret servos whined as barrels adjusted. A staccato burst of gunfire echoed across the plaza, rounds punching into the horde outside the settlement.
"The autoturrets are engaging," he reported calmly. "Hey, let's climb the look-out pillars, you guys go up first, i'll follow afterwards." Servos hummed faintly as he adjusted his firing stance, calculating coverage vectors for the scattered scavengers.
"Much obliged, old man," Clamente shouted, his voice ragged.
"Assist the others up the pillars!" Cee-Ar-Tee barked between shots, his optics tracking targets as blasters cycled through their next salvo.
Across the settlement, photogenic camouflage flickered back online—structural ribs emitting their familiar white-translucent hue beneath the emergency crimson overlay. The elevator shaft mechanism groaned to life behind them.
"Watch western approach," Cee-Ar-Tee warned. "Priority targets incoming." His targeting reticule pulsed blue across a cluster of aberrant thermal readings—movement patterns registering statistical anomalies his threat database couldn't classify.
Something was wrong with those CCs.
His fingers tightened around the blaster grip as aberrant movement patterns flickered across his threat assessment feed—CCs moving with coordinated precision instead of erratic swarming. The servos in his legs whined faintly as he pivoted toward the lookout structure behind him, his optics still tracking the anomalies while Nick's ragged shout cut through the gunfire.
"Climb now!"
The metal rungs vibrated under his grip as he ascended, his targeting systems maintaining partial lock on the statistical outliers even as his body cleared the overrun plaza. Below, the photogenic camouflage flickered between white and crimson, casting jagged shadows across the CC horde pressing against the settlement walls.