MetaCraft Cybernetics (6)
The fourth area wasn't a research wing—it was the facility block. It had a wide hall like the others, but instead of labs on either side, there were equipment rooms of all kinds. As soon as we entered the hall, we kicked off the search from the second floor. Squad members in two-man teams raced up the stairs. The first two teams vanished from sight, and as the third was heading up, a guttural screech echoed from the second floor.
"Kieee—"
It cut off midway. Thud! Thud! Crack! Sounds of multiple people savagely beating something rang out, and then a single infected came flying down into the first-floor hall.
Thump! Its neck snapped on impact, leaving it twitching on the ground, unable to rise. Actually, most of its body was shattered in places too.
"Kerrrk..."
Foaming at the mouth, it flailed its limbs desperately with its broken neck, but it was just mopping the floor. Squish! A nearby squad member stomped its skull flat, silencing it.
"Kweeeek—!"
A shadow rose from the corner of the hall. A female infected in researcher garb, her rotten, tree-bark-like skin bulging with thick, black veins in grotesque relief. Her skirt was torn to shreds, exposing her crotch outright. But any man who found that arousing would be a lunatic. Where her pussy should have been, a snake-like tentacle protruded.
"Shiiiik—!"
It even hissed like a serpent. A round something traveled along the tentacle from the tip, bulging its way up like a reverse playback of a snake swallowing a rat.
> Engaging target. Fire at will.
We didn't wait any longer before opening fire. Multiple holes punched through the female infected's head, sending her toppling backward—but that wasn't the end.
"Kiririk—!"
"Kirik—!"
"Kiririk—!"
The tentacle from her crotch endlessly spat out small monsters from its mouth. Seven-star eels, just like the ones we'd seen in the previous research wing. They hopped and scattered in all directions but didn't get far before bullets turned them to pulp. Dozens more rounds slammed into the dead female's abdomen.
"Cease fire."
Once we'd confirmed it was a total ragdoll, I called the halt. A few squad members approached the corpse.
Boom! Boom! Boom! Just in case, they stomped the mushy uterus and limp tentacle into oblivion.
Those were the only two infected in the fifth area. One squad member reported in.
The disaster prevention room lived up to its name—it handled disaster countermeasures. Fire hydrants and sprinkler controls for fire scenarios. HVAC systems that circulated air normally but vented toxic gases outward during fires. Lighting controls, surveillance camera feeds, and more critical facilities crammed together. For convenience, even unrelated stuff like sewage treatment and HVAC controls were bundled in, making it the control tower for the entire facility.
Due to the lab's sensitivity, the disaster prevention room doubled as a command center in emergencies. Fittingly, the entrance wasn't a normal door but a thick, vault-like steel bulkhead.
This was where the last stand had gone down—soldier and infected corpses littered the area. A scientist's body lay slumped at the entrance. Yanking the ID badge on a lanyard around its neck made the skull rattle against the vertebrae.
"Clinical Trials Lead Researcher Jang Chunsu."
Scientist who moved with the defense commander here.
The soldier corpses scattered around showed plenty of friendly fire wounds from the chaos. I approached the disaster prevention room entrance and spoke to the authentication panel.
"Open up."
Commander registration should've been done at the entrance auth point. But the door didn't budge.
Beep! A denial tone blared.
Command denied. Warning. Multiple unregistered personnel and fatalities detected in facility. Security protocol: Contacting designated military unit. Entry prohibited until resolution. All personnel, cooperate upon arrival of rapid response team in 5 minutes.
A female ARS voice echoed from the speakers. I glanced at the robots standing guard around us.
"It doesn't count these guys as unregistered, right?"
No way the system was that sloppy.
No. There are still infected around.
"The map shows the underground lab ends at Research Wing 5. We've put bullets in every non-skeleton head on the way here."
I turned my gaze toward Research Wing 5. A faint hall loomed beyond the darkness-cloaked tunnel.
"You mean there are stragglers in there?"
Probably.
I checked the minimap on my PDA—the data from the initial auth at the underground lab entrance. The final Research Wing 5 was massive, over twice the size of the others.
I pulled a flashbang from my belt. A few squad members with me did the same. Per the schematics, Wing 5 at the deepest point was the core zone. Neural acceleration—thinking and moving faster while the world slowed. The kind of tech the military had illegally backed for its potential. We couldn't skip the main objective.
'Their neural response speed can accelerate up to 2.5 times a normal human's. If they're exposed to the infection source and mutate, who knows what horrors could be born.'
The researcher's voice log, the empty lab tables in H1-3, the soldiers torn limb from limb—it all flashed back. Whatever the result was waited beyond that dark passage.
We could turn back here.
"Leaving the prize behind?"
'I won't ignore the infected threat, but outside of combat, there are no variables.'
My pre-mission words replayed.
Infection fused with the lab's cutting-edge tech. It's a non-combat variable and a combat one. We didn't account for this before departure. No guarantee what's beyond is what we need. Risk outweighs expected reward.
"Hm."
Her logic held water. After a moment's thought, I steeled my resolve.
Click! I pulled the pin on my flashbang.
Click! Click! Click! Click! Click! The waiting squad members followed suit. Safety handles still gripped, of course. I'd considered bailing, but passing on the final reward after coming this far felt too regrettable. Besides, unlike undertrained reservists, we had a horde of steel-bodied, elite-combat robots.
"Sorry, I gotta see this through."
Figured as much.
One flashbang sailed down the tunnel. Moments later—
Bang! Not grenade-level, but a solid blast and blinding white light filled the passage beyond.
"Kyaaaaaooo—!"
A screech utterly unlike ordinary infected. Black silhouettes rose at the tunnel's end.
"Next."
The second flashbang flew. Bang! The roar grew, laced with rage and malice. The third sailed in.
"Kyaaa—"Bang! The third blast cut it short. The fourth flew.
This was how my old unit used flashbangs. Foes expect one or two before entry, and they don't sow much chaos alone. You keep lobbing them sequentially to numb their senses and shatter their guard before breaching. Of course, that's for humans. No intention of charging into unknown monsters first.
Bang! By the fourth, they'd figured out the annoying attack's source. Burning eyes glared from the tunnel end, then charged at insane speed.
We dumped the rest of our flashbangs, muzzles erupting in unison. Up to this point, same as mowing down the pack in the prior wing. But there was a problem.
They were too damn fast. And—
"Zigzagging!"
Unlike mindless infected charges, they zigzagged in, not straight-line rushing. Contrary to popular belief, that crap in real firefights just hampers your mobility—suicidal. But at their velocity, it was terrifyingly effective. We hadn't emptied half our mags before the leaders were on the front-line firers.
They moved so fast, it felt like they blinked in and out.
"Damn it, maximum 2.5 times, my ass!"
Where the hell was the 2.5x?
Fall back!
Before her warning, I'd already retreated. Squad members surged forward, layering a steel wall.
"Kuweeeek—!"
The leader took so many rounds tumbling that it faceplanted at our feet. But it wasn't alone.
Another slipped through the bullet storm and swung. Clang! Sparks flew from a squad member's neck, left arm dangling limp—hydraulics severed. But this steel doll knew no pain or panic. Its good right arm fired point-blank.
Bang bang bang! One-handed shooting wobbled slightly but was otherwise flawless. The thing dodged wildly left and right. Hell, I could barely track it with my eyes, let alone hit it one-handed—even for a guard bot.
Kwang! Before the fourth shot, a second neck strike. Clang. Power failed in its steel grip; the K2 hit the deck. Both arms' hydraulics wrecked.
"Those hands."
Their fingers were over twice human length, metallic dark blue, razor-sharp like blades. Bullets from all sides turned it into Swiss cheese.
"Garrgrrrk."
No matter their speed, we had numbers, composure, and marksmanship. But once they closed, friendly fire risk limited shots. That's where the cracks formed.
One squad member blocked a neck strike with its rifle. Crack! The mutant's blade fingers half-sliced barrel and mag but halted. It counter-swinged the stock at its jaw—whiffed. The thing crouched frog-like, then launched, tackling the bot. They tumbled into a heap.
Mutant on top in mount. Clang! Clang! Crunch! It clawed madly; the bot crossed arms over neck and face. Incoming support fire shredded the mounter mid-scratch, flinging it aside. The pinned bot rose, drew its backup K2 from its back.
No fatal damage, but left hand had three fingers left, right half-severed and dangling. Aiming would suck. And it didn't even get a shot off.
Squish. Blade fingers erupted from behind its neck, then withdrew sideways. Sparks exploded; it crumpled. Beyond, the retrieving mutant. Nearby squad fired—but nothing there. Second burst missed; third let it close.
Squish! Reflex block snapped the K2 in two. No time for back-mounted spare at this range—it charged for CQC. But nope.
Another mutant blinked in behind like shrinking earth, snatching its right arm. The original grabbed left. Crunch! Both blurred; arms ripped clean off. Yellow sparks sprayed wildly from stumps.
Combat-incapable, it scanned around—then a mutant's grip severed its neck, dropping it.
But we weren't helpless. In the brief clash, we adapted: All but my escorts spread out low to nix friendly fire risk. Close-range bots tanked hits, guarding vitals. K2s as shields wrecked fast, but backups were slung. Attackers' moves got predictable; we supported from flanks and rear.
Allowing infected approaches and attacks as baseline—impossible for human squads. Explained why the original garrison got massacred, half by friendly fire.
"Kyarrgrrrk—!"
The last mutant beehived out, ending the fight.
I eyed the dark tunnel beyond, then re-authed at the disaster prevention room. Door opened this time—meaning all underground threats neutralized.
Twelve augmented infected total. First real fight since leading these bots—not unilateral annihilation. Losses acceptable: 3 guard bots disabled, 2 at half efficiency, 8 lightly damaged, 11 K2s broken.
After steamrolling normals, I'd half-seen these steel soldiers as invincible. Formation fire should've cleared with minimal casualties—but underestimated unpredictable foes. Lesson learned.
Welcome, Commander Seo Jinsu.
The door slid open, revealing control systems inside. What we found: a corpse slumped in the duty chair. Two stars on the uniform, a pistol and half-smoked Marlboro under its limp right hand.