As the last of the scientists were taken and consumed, their screams faded as the nanotech left nothing wasted. One by one, they rose again in stiff, unnatural motions, faces sealed in liquid-black metal, reshaped into the eyeless ranks of his Puppet army.

  Ampelius’ fury only deepened. Each new soldier was a reminder of Dr. Vulcan, the man of torment, a man that still burned inside him. The name had become an ember in his mind, glowing hotter with every second. Casper hovered close, his lenses sweeping over the newly created Puppets.

  “Efficient,” the projection observed, static flickering faintly along his edges. “Wasting no resources was the correct decision. However—” His voice carried the same flat authority as always, but softer now, almost like counsel. “You must not forget. Dr. Vulcan is a sub-objective. Eliminating him will serve our cause, yes, but it does not advance the greater directive. Do not lose sight of that.”

  Ampelius clenched his jaw, ignoring the chill that ran through his chest. Then Casper stiffened as his optics flashed crimson. After a few seconds, “Movement. Outside the bunker.”

  The warning came too late. A muffled burst of gunfire rattled through the entry chamber, followed by the heavy crash of bodies hitting steel. The Puppets standing guard at the outer gate never stood a chance.

  Casper’s voice sharpened. “Our sentries are gone. Wiped out. And too quickly. The Romans are armed with something much more effective. They must possess ammunition capable of penetrating the nanotech.”

  Ampelius inhaled, steadying his thoughts as his rage threatened to consume him.

  Casper repeated himself, tone almost cutting this time. “Do you understand? They will breach soon.”

  “Right.” Ampelius’ eyes narrowed, his grip tightening around his weapon. “Then we deal with them and get out of here.”

  Casper’s lenses flickered. “And the rest of this facility?”

  Ampelius paused, his mind racing. He glanced back toward the reinforced doors, toward the cryogenic chambers buried deeper still, and then returned his gaze to Casper.

  “Disable it,” he said flatly. “Whatever research they’re hiding, whatever program they’re running, it ends here. Dr. Vulcan will give me the details once I find him.”

  “Understood. Commencing a targeted overload of the local power grid,” Casper said evenly.

  His form brightened, projection sparking with a rising hum as he funneled energy into the surrounding circuits. Blue arcs leapt across his frame, bleeding into the walls as if the very wires of the facility were convulsing. A deep vibration rolled through the chamber, then—

  Flash.

  Every light snapped off at once. Rifle flashlights stuttered and died. The steady hum of ventilation and cryogenic pumps cut into a strangled silence, broken only by the crackle of burning fuses and the sharp scent of ozone.

  “All primary systems have been disabled,” Casper confirmed in the dark. “The pods no longer receive power. Life support will fail, resulting in the deaths of current occupants, assuming they don't wake up and or escape these pods.”

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  His glow dimmed to a thin, wavering outline as static rippled across his form. “This expenditure has drained a significant portion of my reserves. I will require time to recharge before resuming full capacity.”

  “Great, but I need a light source. I can’t navigate in pitch black — I’m not a bat,” Ampelius muttered.

  Casper’s glow shifted from blue to a faint, pale white, casting a washed-out light across the walls. It was dim and ghostlike, but enough to carve outlines into the dark. “At low power consumption, this is the best I can provide,” Casper said flatly.

  “This is fine.” Ampelius adjusted his grip on his weapon, jaw tight. “Let’s move. We fight our way out.”

  “Be advised,” Casper added. “The overload disabled all camera feeds. We are blind to movement in adjacent corridors. I recommend deploying Puppets as scouts.”

  Ampelius didn’t hesitate. His eyes narrowed, and his voice came low, commanding. “You know what to do.”

  The Puppets stirred at once, their eyeless faces tilting toward him, then lurched forward into the dark. Their footsteps echoed like iron on stone as they advanced down the corridor, forming a grim vanguard.

  Ampelius dropped the weapon he was carrying and reached for something heavier. He noticed a fallen shotgun nearby. Its steel frame was slick with blood. He stripped the web belt that was next to it, finding the pouches stuffed with shells. Close quarters was inevitable, he could feel it, and thought this would be the better tool.

  The Puppets had already vanished ahead to meet the attackers. For the first time since entering the bunker, Ampelius felt a cold pang of isolation. It was worse than he expected. Without the puppets at his back, the silence pressed in on him much harder, almost like confinement all over again, broken only by the faint hum of Casper’s dim glow and the distant echoes of boots and gunmetal shifting.

  Retracing his steps, he found the corridor he had fought through earlier, a choke point littered with blood and weapons.Then the quiet was interrupted by gunfire ahead.

  It wasn’t the chaotic panic or the frantic burst of Romans breaking under pressure. This was different. The shots came steady and measured, almost like a steady drumbeat.

  Ampelius froze and took a moment to listen. Each crack of a rifle was followed by another, and another, relentless. No screams of terror, no desperate last stands, almost routine like he was at a firing range.

  Something was wrong.

  “Casper,” Ampelius growled, shifting the shotgun in his hands. “Can you see anything ahead? What’s happening? I’m blind out here.”

  Casper’s lenses flickered faintly, static crawling along his projection. “My readings are fragmented. I detect sustained weapons fire… multiple signatures. Your Puppets are being cut down. Efficiently I might add. They've brought firepower with them.”

  Ampelius’ grip tightened on the shotgun. He inhaled once, steady, forcing the rage back down into focus. He knew what that meant. The Romans weren’t breaking this time. They were waiting for him, or this was some kind of response force.

  “I guess we’ll be fighting our way out of here,” Ampelius muttered, his voice low but steady.

  Casper’s glow pulsed faintly as he answered. “Not necessarily. Reinforcements are converging, and you are outnumbered. Once they finish with the Puppets, they will push through this corridor looking for you. My analysis suggests ambush tactics are optimal. Use the facility to your advantage. Strike when necessary, nothing more.”

  The projection tilted, his voice flattening into clinical detail. “And remember: you are not without advantages. Enhanced strength, speed, endurance, and reflexes. Use your body as it operates at the edge of human limits. One on one, they cannot stand against you. But you are not invulnerable. Bullets remain fatal. Do not treat yourself as if you are bulletproof.”

  Ampelius chambered a shell into the shotgun, the metallic snap echoing through the dark. His jaw tightened, the faint light casting his face in hard shadow as he prepared for the fight ahead.

  “Well,” he said grimly, “I’ve got a rage burning in me. Time for some revenge.” He steadied the weapon, eyes fixed on the black corridor ahead. “And when I’m done here, Dr. Vulcan is next.”

  He stepped forward into the dark, ready to meet the storm.