The safehouse sat quiet under a moonless Texas sky. Crickets chirped in the surrounding scrubland, their rhythm steady and unremarkable. A breeze stirred the dry grass, carrying the scent of dust and distant rain.
The first warning was a faint whine, like an electric motor pushed beyond its limits. It grew louder, cutting through the night air until it became unmistakable—the sound of rotors slicing atmosphere at dangerous speeds.
The unmarked transport appeared over the horizon, running dark except for faint blue lights along its undercarriage. It hovered above the TDCJ Cotton Warehouse for three seconds before disgorging its payload.
Four Cephalods dropped first, their spindly limbs absorbing the impact as they positioned themselves at the corners of the roof. Then came the Harvester.
Nine feet of gleaming metal and hydraulics crashed through the ceiling, concrete and steel giving way like tissue paper. It landed in a shower of debris, its impact shaking the entire structure. The machine's humanoid torso swiveled, assessing its surroundings with cold efficiency. Where arms should have been, six segmented metal tentacles whipped the air, each tipped with rotating blades that hummed with lethal promise.
Javier was the first to react, rolling from his cot and grabbing his rifle in one fluid motion. "Contact!" he shouted, diving behind an overturned table as one of the tentacles lashed out, slicing through his mattress like it was butter.
The safehouse erupted into chaos.
-----------------------------------
Arthur jerked awake to the wail of an alarm. His hand automatically slapped at his phone before he realized the sound was coming from his computer. He blinked, disoriented, as his monitor flashed a rhythmic red.
[SAFEHOUSE UNDER ATTACK - CRITICAL ALERT]
He lunged for his desk, nearly tripping over his own feet. His fingers found the keyboard, muscle memory taking over as he navigated to the alert details. The interface expanded to show a live feed from Austin.
"What the hell is that?" Arthur whispered, staring at the metal monstrosity tearing through the command center. The thing moved with horrifying speed, metal tentacles whipping through the air, slicing through equipment and furniture alike. His people scattered, desperately seeking cover.
Arthur scanned the interface for controls, options, anything that might help. The mission status panel simply displayed [DEFEND SAFEHOUSE - SURVIVAL PROBABILITY: 17%]
The camera angle shifted, showing a wider view of the chaos. Arthur could see the Cephalods positioned around the hole in the ceiling, their massive heads silhouetted against the night sky. One turned slightly, and Arthur caught the shimmer of its telepathic field extending downward.
Chang rose from behind a storage container, his movements jerky and unnatural. His eyes were vacant, his mouth slack. The Cephalod controlling him forced him into the open, directly into the path of the Harvester.
"No, no, no!" Arthur frantically clicked on Chang, trying to select him, warn him, anything. But the interface remained locked in observation mode. All he could do was watch.
The metal tentacle moved faster than seemed possible. One moment Chang stood there, the next he was in two pieces. The clean cut left his torso on its feet for an impossible moment before it toppled forward. Blood and viscera splashed across the concrete floor.
Arthur gagged, bile rising in his throat. "Fuck!"
This can't be a game, a thought whispered in the back of Arthur's mind. He pushed it away. Of course it was a game. Just an extremely realistic one.
He forced himself to focus on the others. Javier and Marcus had taken defensive positions behind overturned metal cabinets, firing controlled bursts at the machine. Their bullets sparked against its armored shell but did little damage. Remy was on the catwalk, his Remington aimed at the Cephalods. He fired, and one of the aliens staggered backward but didn't fall.
Dale and Emily were nowhere to be seen.
Amber crouched behind what remained of the medical station, blood streaming from a cut on her forehead. Her shotgun lay at her feet, its barrel bent from some impact.
And Eli—Arthur spotted the teenager huddled in a corner, panicked and shaking like a leaf. "Eli! wake up, the others need you!"
The teen hearing the voice of Arthur seemed to snap out slightly, but the sounds of blades whirring and bullets sent him back in a downward spiral, as it recited some sort of prayer Arthur didn't knew. "Eli, please! I need you." He tried making his voice a little more soothing, hoping it might work, but nothing.
Gritting his teeth, Arthur opened one of the interfaces he normally looked at with wistful eyes and looked for the only thing that might help him now.
[COMMANDER PERKS]
Scrolling down he found a perk that was in his wish list as soon as he could save enough.
[CALMING AURA: When you are communicating with your men, effects of mental debuffs are lessened. ]
At a whooping seventy five hundred credits it was worth quite a lot of recruits, weapons and safehouses, but he needed Eli right now.
Once bought, he tried again communicating with the kid and thanks to the perk, this time Eli seemed to wake up, tears still lining his cheeks, as he asked what to do.
"Quick, grab as much explosive as you can, stick it on a broom and throw it at that metal freak, use a detonator to explode it on contact. Eli nodded and went to work, his stash of explosives right behind the infirmary.
As Arthur watched, Eli attached what looked like clay explosives to a broom handle, creating a makeshift spear. The bomb was crude but would be effective if delivered to the right spot.
"Eli!" Arthur called out. "Aim for the central joint where the torso connects to the lower body." The thing looked all sinuous and metal reinforced with no visible weak spot or sensors, but its legs and torso had a narrower section connecting them and Arthur prayed the game programmers had left the spot on purpose.
Eli's head jerked up in recognition. "Got it, Commander!" he shouted over the cacophony of gunfire and metal.
Arthur watched as Eli prepared to throw his explosive spear. The teenager rose from his hiding spot, took aim—
—and suddenly went rigid, his back arching at an unnatural angle. His eyes rolled back, showing only whites. The explosive spear dropped from his nerveless fingers.
"Cephalod has him!" Arthur shouted uselessly at his screen. "Amber help him!"
On screen, Amber saw what was happening. Without hesitation, she lunged from cover, scooped up the fallen explosive, and sprinted directly toward the Harvester. The machine's sensors detected her approach, tentacles whipping around to intercept.
Amber hurled the explosives at the machine's central joint just as one of the metal tentacles caught her. The serrated edge tore through her left arm just below the shoulder, continuing through her side and leg. She didn't scream. Her face registered shock, then calm acceptance as she triggered the detonator clutched in her right hand.
The explosion filled Arthur's screen with white light. When the feed cleared, the Harvester lay in pieces, its central joint obliterated by the blast. Two of the Cephalods had been caught in the explosion and tumbled from the roof, their bodies limp and twisted. The remaining two retreated from view.
Eli collapsed, released from the telepathic control. Javier rushed to Amber's side, his face tight with urgency as he assessed her grievous wounds. Marcus maintained his position, rifle trained on the hole in the ceiling, waiting for the next attack.
"They're still out there," Arthur said, knowing they could hear him. "The survivors are regrouping. They'll wait for you to lower your guard."
"We need to move!" Javier yelled, already applying a tourniquet to what remained of Amber's arm. "This position is compromised!"
Arthur's mind raced. They needed an exit strategy.
Arthur navigated frantically through the interface, searching for facility schematics. He found the building layout and located an emergency exit route.
"Southeast corridor, past the storage units," Arthur directed. "There's a maintenance tunnel that leads to the drainage system. Get everyone moving that way. I'll guide you through."
On screen, Javier lifted Amber's unconscious form, her remaining arm dangling limply. Blood soaked through his shirt immediately. Marcus provided cover as Eli staggered to his feet, his young face ashen with shock.
"Chang," Eli whispered, staring at the bisected body of their driver. "He's... we can't just..."
"He's gone, kid," Marcus said, his voice flat but not unkind. "Nothing we can do for him now."
Arthur watched Eli's face crumble. Not with dramatic sobs or wailing, but with a quiet devastation that seemed to age him ten years in an instant. This wasn't the reaction of someone who had merely lost a game character—this was genuine grief.
Arthur felt a chill spread through his body. The certainty he'd been clinging to—that this was just an elaborate game—wavered. He thought of Chang, the nervous civil engineering student who had joined the resistance only because his girlfriend had been targeted. Chang, who flinched every time a gun fired but never hesitated to drive into danger.
Chang, who had just been sliced in half before Arthur's eyes.
"Move!" Arthur commanded, his voice steadier than his thoughts. "I'm sure those Cephalods are already calling for reinforcements. Anyone who can walk needs to help those who can't."
As the survivors regrouped and began their retreat, Arthur's gaze lingered on Chang's body, already growing still on the concrete floor. Something cold and heavy settled in Arthur's chest.
He pushed the thought away. There would be time for existential crises later. Right now, his team needed him.
"Marcus, take point," Arthur directed. "Javier, you've got Amber. Eli, stay between them, everyone else stayed in the back, Dale I want you holding the rear. I'm checking ahead for hostiles."