The rain fell harder. It drummed on the white hull of the Icarus and sizzled on the energy pikes of the Praetorian Guards.
Marcus stood in the center of the muddy courtyard. The water ran down his scavenged armor, soaking into the padding underneath. He was cold. He was tired.
But his hand was steady on the hilt of his Vibro-Gladius.
Executive Vane stood ten feet away. He ignored the rain soaking his expensive suit. He swirled the whiskey in his glass, looking around the ruined fortress with an air of mild disappointment.
"It's smaller than it looks on the stream," Vane said.
"It's cozy," Marcus said. "We cleared out the rats for you."
Vane chuckled. "Charming. I admire your grit, Marcus. Truly. Most of the beta testers died in the first week. Dysentery. Wolves. Their own incompetence."
He took a sip.
"But you... you built an empire. You hacked my supply lines. You even stole my Drill."
Vane shook his head, looking impressed.
"You've cost me three percent of my quarterly earnings. Do you know how much money that is? It's enough to buy a small country."
"I'm aiming for a hundred," Marcus said.
"Ambition," Vane said, pointing his glass at Marcus. "I like it. That's why I chose you. You have the psychographic profile of a conqueror. Narcissistic. Tactical. Ruthless."
Marcus frowned.
"You chose me? I was kidnapped. I woke up in a forest."
Vane smiled. It was a shark's smile.
"Kidnapped is such a harsh word. Let's call it... recruited. We needed a variable to test the Historical Simulation Protocol. You were the perfect candidate."
"This isn't a simulation," Marcus growled. "People are dying. Real people."
"Everything is data," Vane said dismissively. "Flesh, code, dirt. It's all just assets to be managed."
He tapped his temple.
"Like your interface. The gamer vision. You think you're hallucinating? You think it's stress-induced psychosis?"
Marcus froze.
The UI. The red boxes. The stats. He had always assumed it was his brain trying to cope with the trauma. A mental crutch.
"It's my patent," Vane said softly. "Neural Link Prototype 6. We injected you before the drop. Nanites in your visual cortex."
Vane grinned.
"I've been the Admin the whole time, Marcus. I've been watching your stream. Tweaking the difficulty. Sending the supply drops."
Marcus felt the blood drain from his face.
The "Game" wasn't a coping mechanism. It was a leash.
"You... you made me see the stats?"
"I gave you a HUD," Vane corrected. "Because watching a modern man die of thirst isn't entertaining. Watching him become a Warlord? That's content."
Marcus roared.
He lunged.
He raised his sword to strike.
Vane didn't flinch. He didn't even spill his drink.
He just snapped his fingers.
"Pause simulation," Vane said.
ZAP.
A shockwave of pain exploded inside Marcus's skull.
It wasn't physical. It was neural. The nanites in his brain fired a synchronized pulse.
His muscles locked. His nervous system seized.
Marcus froze in mid-stride. His sword arm hung in the air, trembling. He tried to move. He tried to scream.
Nothing happened. He was a statue in his own body.
[COMMAND: SYSTEM LOCK]
[USER: SUSPENDED]
[OVERRIDE: ADMIN VANE]
The text in his vision turned black. Dead black.
"Fascinating technology," Vane said, walking closer. He poked Marcus in the chest. Marcus couldn't even blink.
"Total motor control override. We call it the 'Puppeteer Protocol'."
"Marcus!" Marcia screamed.
She rose from behind the sandbags. She raised her shotgun.
BLAM.
She fired.
The Praetorian on the left moved. It was a blur of gold and white.
It didn't block the slug. It dodged it.
It crossed the twenty feet between them in a heartbeat. It swung its energy pike.
CRACK.
The shotgun flew out of Marcia's hands, bent in half.
The Praetorian grabbed her throat. It lifted her off the ground.
Marcia kicked, clawing at the gold armor.
"Don't kill her yet," Vane said boredly. "She's good leverage."
Lucilla stepped out from behind the pillar. She dropped her gun. She raised her hands.
"Hello, Vane," she said.
Vane looked at her. His expression soured.
"Lucilla. My wayward Director. You look terrible. Mud really isn't your color."
"I quit," Lucilla said.
"You can't quit the Board," Vane said. "You can only be liquidated."
He turned his back on them. He walked past the frozen Marcus.
"Now," Vane said, adjusting his cuffs. "Let's secure my Drill before you idiots blow us all up."
He walked toward the keep door.
Marcus screamed internally. He fought the paralysis. He pushed against the invisible walls in his mind.
Move. Move. Damn you, move.
But the black box in his vision held firm.
[ACCESS DENIED]
Vane reached the door.
RUMBLE.
The ground shook.
It wasn't an explosion. It was the Drill. The hum spiked. It went from a low bass to a high, tearing scream.
"Sir!" Galen's voice crackled over Marcus's earpiece. "Transfer complete! He's awake!"
Marcus's vision glitched.
Static. White noise.
The black text box flickered.
A line of Gold text smashed into it.
[ADMIN OVERRIDE DETECTED]
[SOURCE: J.A.R.V.I.S.]
[COUNTER-MEASURE: DEPLOYED]
A sensation like ice water poured over Marcus's brain.
The nanites screamed.
[BLOCKING EXTERNAL SIGNAL...]
[FIREWALL: RESTORED]
"NO!" Vane shouted. He grabbed his ear. "My feed! Who is hacking the feed?"
The paralysis broke.
Marcus gasped, air rushing into his lungs. He fell to his knees, vomiting bile into the mud.
But he was free.
The UI stabilized. The Gold text glowed warm and bright.
[WELCOME BACK, SIR.]
[LET'S KICK SOME ASS.]
"JARVIS," Marcus rasped.
He stood up.
Vane spun around. His composure cracked. For the first time, he looked surprised.
"How?" Vane hissed. "That link is encrypted!"
"You forgot one thing," Marcus said, raising his sword. "I have tech support."
He charged.
He didn't attack Vane. Vane was just a man in a suit.
He tackled Vane.
He hit the Executive with his shoulder, driving him into the mud. The whiskey glass shattered.
They rolled in the muck. Vane wasn't a fighter, but he was wiry. He clawed at Marcus's face.
"Get off me!" Vane shrieked. "Guard! Kill him!"
The Praetorians turned. The one holding Marcia threw her aside like a rag doll. She hit the sandbags hard.
They charged Marcus.
"Marcia!" Marcus yelled, grappling with Vane. "Blow it!"
Marcia groaned, rolling over. She reached for the detonator on her belt.
Z-Z-Z-T.
A blue energy blast hit the detonator. It exploded in sparks.
"Dammit!" Marcia yelled, shaking her burned hand.
The Praetorians were closing in. Ten feet. Five feet.
Marcus pinned Vane down. He put the Vibro-Blade to Vane's throat.
"Stop!" Marcus ordered the guards. "Or I carve him!"
The Praetorians stopped instantly. Their programming forbade endangering the Admin.
Vane lay in the mud, his suit ruined, his face smeared with dirt. He was breathing hard.
But he started to laugh.
"You think you've won?" Vane wheezed. "You have a knife. I have an army."
He pressed a button on his gold wristwatch.
"Deployment authorized."
A shadow fell over the courtyard.
Marcus looked up at the Icarus.
The cargo bay doors under the ship groaned open.
Hydraulics hissed. The ground shook with a heavy, metallic thud.
Something stepped out of the ship.
It was massive. Twenty feet tall.
It was a Sentinel, but not the rusted, bipedal walkers Marcus was used to.
This was a Titan-Class.
It had four legs like a spider. A central chassis armed with a plasma cannon the size of a tree trunk. Its armor was pristine white, emblazoned with the Board's logo.
It stepped into the courtyard, crushing a stone wall.
Its sensors swept the area. A red eye focused on Marcus.
"Asset Recovery," its voice boomed. It shook the stones of the fortress.
Vane grinned up at Marcus.
"You think I came alone to a trap?" Vane whispered. "I brought the cleanup crew."
Marcus looked at the Titan. Then he looked at the basement door.
The Drill was screaming. The overload was building.
JARVIS flashed a timer in his mind.
[OVERLOAD: 00:10]
[00:09]
Marcus looked down at Vane.
He didn't look scared. He smiled. A genuine, terrifying smile.
"You think we're trapping you?" Marcus said.
He grabbed Vane by the lapels. He pulled him close.
"We're taking you with us."
[00:05]
"Galen!" Marcus screamed. "NOW!"
From the basement, Galen slammed his fist onto the manual override.
The hum of the Drill stopped.
For one second, there was absolute silence.
Then, the world turned white.