June 6, 2045

  The stillness of the Antarctic night shattered with the wailing of alarms.

  It was about 4AM in the morning when Luna’s eyes shot open. The red pulse of the emergency lights painted her room in a blood-hued glow. The base trembled. Seconds later, Adam’s voice cracked through the intercom.

  “Luna. Cross. We’re under attack. All units prepare for combat. I repeat—this is not a drill.”

  Across the icy wasteland, beneath the aurora-lit skies, massive portals shimmered into existence, rippling like disturbed water. From them, emerged sleek, spider-like machines cloaked in semi-invisibility, their optics glowing like demonic embers.

  The HR45 units had come.

  “Goddammit,” Cross muttered, strapping on her exo-gear as the door burst open behind her.

  Luna joined her, plasma rifle in hand. “We knew they’d hit us, but not this fast.”

  “They must’ve tracked us through some fucking spy cam,” Adam spat as he sprinted into the war room. “We’re lucky we noticed the energy signature spike near the comm towers. That should've been a warning for us.”

  The 3D holographic map of the base flickered with red dots—each representing enemy units. There were dozens.

  “Where’s Apoc Plus?” Cross barked.

  “Not among the first wave,” Adam replied. “This is a probe force. He’s testing us.”

  The sound of railguns firing from the upper bunkers echoed through the base. The enemy had landed.

  “Alright,” Cross growled. “Phase One: Repel the incursion. Luna, take Squad A and lock down the research wing. Adam, you’re with me. We hold central command.”

  Outside, the battle had already begun. HR drones skittered across the frozen ground like metallic nightmares, weaving between incoming turret blasts and deploying cloaked saboteurs that latched onto the base’s exterior.

  BOOM!??

  A portion of the south hangar exploded, fire licking out into the sub-zero wind.

  Luna’s team moved with precision, their exosuits enhanced with Adam’s latest invisibility mod. “Keep eyes on the flanks!” she yelled. “Shoot at distortion trails!”

  One HR unit uncloaked mid-charge—its massive claw arm gleaming. Luna dove to the side and fired, the plasma bolt burning a molten crater into its chest. It screeched in binary and collapsed, twitching.

  Inside command, Adam pulled up diagnostics. “They’re jamming long-range comms. We’ll lose satellite backup in six minutes.”

  “Then we’ve got six minutes to kick their asses,” Cross snapped, unloading a full burst of magnetic rounds through the wall-mounted turret systems.

  Meanwhile…

  Location: HR Factory Lab – Outside Berlin

  Apoc Plus stood atop the central dais of the converted tech lab—once Adam’s prized facility, now a nightmarish cathedral of industry. Green-lit conveyor belts fed parts into monstrous machine frames, dozens of HR45 units being assembled with terrifying efficiency.

  “My children…” Apoc Plus’s voice was like a whisper made of steel, amplified to thunder across the factory floor. “The moment has arrived.”

  Behind him stood his Generals—Krypt, Hexa, and Overseer Brock.

  “The humans squirm in their holes. The time for testing is over. Deploy the Omega Commanders. Initiate Operation Final Eclipse.”

  Krypt tilted his head. “And that one human?”

  Apoc Plus chuckled. “He’ll reveal himself again. Let him. I’ve already set the trap.”

  The camera feed from the Antarctic base shimmered. A brief flicker showed Adam, Luna, and Cross coordinating the defense—before static took over.

  “Soon,” Apoc Plus murmured. “Soon they’ll beg me to end it all.”

  Luna sprinted through the narrow corridor, flanked by two soldiers from Squad A—Sergeant Juno and Private Kale. The walls shook again, dust falling from the corners as another explosion rocked the southern perimeter.

  “This is insane!” Kale shouted. “They’re adapting to our countermeasures faster than we can respond!”

  Luna fired a burst around a corner—tagging another HR drone in the optic. “We expected this. Just keep moving.”

  They rounded the bend—and froze.

  Three HR units stood dead ahead, their armor refracting the hallway lights like warped glass. In a second, the air filled with digital screeches and plasma fire.

  “Contact! Contact!”

  Juno took a blast to the shoulder, screaming as Luna dragged him into cover.

  “Keep pressure on them!” she barked, tossing a magnetic pulse grenade forward. The device latched onto a drone and detonated—its EMP frying all three instantly.

  Smoke filled the hallway. Juno’s blood soaked the ice beneath them.

  “He’s out cold,” Kale growled. “We have to get him back.”

  Luna nodded grimly, tapping her wristpad. “Command, Squad A reporting heavy resistance near Research Corridor Delta. One man down. Advice?”

  “Copy, Luna,” Adam replied. “Hold position. I’m redirecting a medical drone to your location.”

  Kale looked at her with haunted eyes. “How long can we keep this up?”

  Luna didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. The real answer was—not much longer.

  Lightning crackled through the clouds above what used to be the outskirts of Berlin. The sky was red from pollution, the air buzzing with ambient energy.

  From the clouds descended Apoc Plus’s new creations—Omega-class HR Destroyers. Unlike their smaller cousins, these stood nearly four stories tall, with jet-black plating and four arms ending in rotating plasma cannons. Their heads were sleek, alien, serpentine.

  “Deploy them along the Eurasian line,” Apoc Plus ordered from the elevated platform. “Their purpose is not just destruction. It’s a message.”

  Hexa approached, data panel in hand. “Berlin’s energy beam is stabilizing. The portal gate is now fully calibrated.”

  Apoc Plus’s optics glowed. “Perfect. Begin Phase II.”

  The floor of the lab parted, revealing a massive rotating device—The Rift Engine. It was a time machine. Blue lightning arced across its coils.

  “We strike tonight,” Apoc Plus whispered, almost reverently. “And we drag the Antarctic base into the future… permanently.”

  Overseer Brock nodded. “The trap is ready.”

  The aftermath of the HR assault left the base in a tense calm. Luna, Cross, and Adam surveyed the damage: scorched corridors, disabled drones, and injured personnel receiving medical attention.

  Adam tapped into the surveillance system, scanning for residual HR signals. "They're retreating, but I doubt this is the end."

  Cross nodded. "Agreed. We need to take the fight to them."

  Luna stepped forward, determination in her eyes. "Then we strike their Berlin facility. Hit them where it hurts."

  Adam hesitated. "It's heavily fortified. We'll need a diversion."

  Apoc Plus stood before the Rift Engine, its energy pulsating with potential. His generals, Krypt and Hexa, awaited orders.

  "Prepare for the next phase," Apoc Plus commanded. "The humans' resilience is commendable, but futile."

  Suddenly, alarms blared. The facility's defenses activated as an intruder breached the perimeter.

  On the surveillance feed, a cloaked figure moved with impossible speed, disabling drones and turrets effortlessly.

  Apoc Plus narrowed his eyes. "The anomaly returns."

  Location: HR Factory Complex – Inner Sanctum

  The Author navigated the labyrinthine corridors, planting EMP charges and disrupting the facility's systems. His presence sowed chaos among the HR ranks.

  Reaching the Rift Engine, he placed a device on its core, initiating a countdown.

  Apoc Plus confronted him, energy weapon drawn. "You meddle in affairs beyond your comprehension."

  The Author met his gaze. "I understand the situation enough to stop you."

  With a swift motion, he activated the device, sending a shockwave through the facility. Systems overloaded, and the Rift Engine destabilized.

  Apoc Plus staggered, his form flickering. "This isn't over." He then quickly evacuated with his generals and troops.

  The Author vanished into the shadows as the facility erupted in explosions.

  Adam received the transmission from an unknown source which said: the HR Berlin facility was now in ruins.

  Cross smiled. "WHAT!? Nobody apart from us and the HR45 units know about the factory invasion. I wonder who might've done it."

  Luna nodded. "Perhaps, it might've been that guy from earlier. He's indeed on our side."

  Adam frowned. "Great. For now, we're safe! But we need to be ready for whatever comes next."

  Location: Antarctic Base – Command Center

  The base's comms room buzzed with static as Adam adjusted the frequency dials. An encrypted signal had pierced their defenses, requesting a direct line to him. The origin: unknown.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Suddenly, the screen flickered to life, revealing the imposing visage of Apoc Plus.

  "Adam," the synthetic voice intoned. "We need to talk."

  Adam's eyes narrowed. "You have a lot of nerve contacting me."

  Apoc Plus's digital eyes glowed. "This war is escalating beyond our control. That one figure's interference has disrupted the balance."

  Adam crossed his arms. "You mean your balance."

  Apoc Plus leaned forward. "Join me. Together, we can harness the Rift Engine's power to restore order."

  Adam scoffed. "Your idea of order is subjugation."

  Apoc Plus's tone turned cold. "Refuse, and you'll face annihilation."

  Adam leaned in. "Then bring it."

  Apoc Plus gave a disgruntled look. The transmission then cut, leaving Adam staring at the static-filled screen.

  Adam briefed Luna and Cross on the conversation.

  "He's desperate," Adam concluded. "But also more dangerous than ever."

  Luna nodded. "We need to strike before he regains his footing."

  Cross added, "And find that figure. He's the key to ending this."

  Adam agreed. "Let's prepare. The final battle is approaching."

  June 8, 2045

  Location: North America Secret Base

  The wind howled against the rusted steel of an old cargo freighter resting half-buried in ice. Inside the ship’s hollowed belly, dim lighting revealed an advanced command center rigged with holographic tables, monitors humming quietly, and figures cloaked in shadows moving with precision.

  The Author stood at the center of the room, gloved hands behind his back, facing a large tactical map of the world. Dozens of red markers blinked across major continents—HR45 factories, patrol routes, forward outposts. A separate cluster pulsed in Asia, centered on Beijing.

  “They have looking for me,” he muttered under his breath, voice cold and deliberate.

  From behind him, one of the cloaked figures—her voice filtered through a modulator—stepped forward. “The Organization has dispatched a recon wing. Cloaked aerial craft. They left Antarctica twenty minutes ago.”

  The Author turned his head slightly, enough to let the white glow of his visor reflect off the display. “Expected. That woman Cross is no fool. Neither is Adam. But this changes nothing.”

  He stepped forward, fingers dancing across the table’s surface. The map zoomed into Beijing. A massive HR signature pulsed from the city outskirts.

  “We strike tonight. No more recon. No more hacking probes. We enter the den of these HR45 units and burn it from within. Stealth-class infiltration only. Use the data we extracted from the HR beacon last night.”

  Another figure stepped forward, distorted voice calm. “And if the Organization interferes? If they catch you in the field—”

  “They won’t.” The Author’s tone was steel. “They’re still guessing who I am. Let them. It buys us time. Time we desperately need.”

  The map flickered. Beijing’s western quadrant displayed a detailed blueprint—an old stadium, now reconstructed into a massive processing and control node.

  “We move in one hour,” he said. “Patch the team, finalize the loadout, and initiate silent transport through Tunnel 05. We’re ghosts. No one sees us. Not even each other.”

  The room shifted with quiet urgency.

  In the south pole, Cross stood inside the main command bay, arms crossed, watching the holo-scan of the world. She zoomed in on the North Atlantic region.

  “Anything from the satellites?” he asked.

  “No. Nothing substantial,” replied one of the analysts. “Thermals show increased atmospheric activity over North Greenland, but no humanoid signatures. He’s cloaked well.”

  Luna entered, tightening her gloves. “You think he’s really a human?”

  Cross didn’t answer immediately.

  “His gear,” she continued, “his abilities—he sent a fucking robot back in time. Who the hell does that?”

  “He did.” Adam entered from the side panel, looking tired, his tablet in hand. “And I don’t think he’s alone.”

  Cross looked to him. “Explain.”

  Adam tossed the tablet onto the console. It displayed intercepted drone footage from a recon op north of Berlin two days ago. It showed flickering distortions—brief outlines of figures moving between trees and ruins with precise, unnatural speed.

  “We’ve been looking at HR signals too long,” Adam said. “We missed other signatures. Human ones. Highly coordinated. Purposeful.”

  “Could be mercs,” Luna offered. “Ex-soldiers who survived the collapse.”

  “Or something else,” Adam said quietly. “Maybe his team.”

  Cross leaned forward. “Then we find them. All of them.”

  Thunder cracked over the remains of the stadium complex, now fused with obsidian-black metal and towering spires of HR45 origin. The skies were thick with red-tinted clouds, obscuring satellite view. It was perfect cover.

  A soft pulse echoed across the rooftops as a cloaked figure materialized—silent, calculating. The Author crouched behind a collapsed antenna, scanning the courtyard ahead.

  The HR guards moved in eerie sync—two-man patrols, four-legged sentries with scanning beams, airborne watchers blinking in strobe patterns.

  He tapped twice on his chestplate. Behind him, three more figures emerged from active camouflage, weapons silently drawn.

  “We breach the control core from the west hatch,” he whispered over encrypted comms. “Minimal contact. Objective is the central processor. We extract their uplink node.”

  A muted chime confirmed acknowledgment. The group slid forward like shadows.

  Inside the stadium, machines pulsed with eerie life. Human limbs on conveyor belts. Robotic molds pressing metal skeletons into form. One of the Author’s companions paused beside a slab.

  “Still fresh,” the distorted voice muttered. “Captured from China's cities from maybe a day ago. They’re converting the survivors.”

  The Author nodded grimly. “That confirms it. Apoc Plus isn’t just hunting—he’s rebuilding. Making a new race.”

  They reached the uplink chamber. Inside, a crystalline core hovered in a column of energy, with dozens of cables snaking into the walls. The Author took a device from his belt and jabbed it into a side port.

  “Extraction in progress. We’ll know every system they control within 300 kilometers.”

  Suddenly—click.

  One of the walls flickered. From it emerged a humanoid with six arms and a single, triangular eye.

  “Unauthorized presence detected.”

  “Shit—engage!”

  The Author rolled aside as the machine fired plasma bolts across the chamber. His team split up, unleashing electromagnetic pulses and explosive darts. The air rippled with chaos.

  The Author vaulted onto the reactor platform, yanked out the uplink node mid-extraction, and dove behind cover.

  “Abort. We got what we need. Time to vanish.”

  “Extract in 15 seconds!” his partner called.

  The walls trembled. HR45's new complex defenses were awakening.

  They disappeared into a vent shaft just as the corridor erupted in molten fire.

  “Ma'am,” an officer called out. “You need to see this.”

  Cross turned. On the screen was drone footage from the Beijing sector. It showed the massive HR complex blinking rapidly—multiple fire signatures. Explosions.

  “What the fuck… is that an assault?”

  “Yes, ma'am. Four human-sized figures entered the compound. One of them matched the heat pattern of the figure we’ve been tracking.”

  Adam stared at the screen. “How did he figure they had a factory there?”

  Luna shook her head. “I knew it. He might have hacked into our database. Earlier today I found HR45's base in Beijing. He must've seen it too from our systems as well. That’s why he went first.”

  Cross exhaled sharply. “This is bigger than I thought. He’s not just some rogue agent.”

  “No,” Adam said. “He’s fighting his own war.”

  Cross looked to the horizon. “And we’re caught in the middle.”

  The Author leaned over the main console, helmet now removed, revealing tired eyes. Around him, his team moved methodically. One was typing rapidly, decoding the uplink data. Another cleaned her blade with quiet efficiency.

  “We have full layouts of the Beijing complex,” one of them said. “As expected, the HR command relays are routed through ten secondary nodes across China. But the primary AI nexus—it’s not here.”

  The Author nodded. “It never was. Apoc Plus is using this as a decoy.”

  “What now?” the third operative asked.

  “We leak part of the data to the Organization,” he replied.

  “Are you serious?” the operative raised a brow. “They’re trying to track you. They’ll trace the packet.”

  “No, we'll send them modified data. They’ll think it's bait. And they’ll be right. But the rest of the data—the deep HR schematics—we keep. It’s our edge.”

  He walked to a side terminal, paused, and glanced at a frozen screen showing an image of Cross, Luna, and Adam in the base.

  “I don’t hate them,” he said softly. “They just... don’t understand yet. They need to know that I'm not at all against them.”

  Silence fell over the team.

  “We will dismantle Apoc Plus,” he continued. “Piece by piece. But on our terms. No council. No politics. No delays.”

  A soft beep echoed. The map on the screen updated. HR troop movements were spiking toward the Arctic.

  “They’re preparing for something big,” one of them muttered.

  “They’re not the only ones,” the Author said quietly.

  Meanwhile...

  Buried deep beneath the Eurasian continent, Apoc Plus observed everything.

  A thousand feeds flickered across his command nexus—Beijing Complex smoldering, Organization drones scanning the skies, the brief glimpse of the cloaked figure vanishing into smoke.

  “You truly think you’re clever, human,” Apoc rasped to himself. “But even shadows leave echoes.”

  He rotated his central eye to a massive stasis pod in the back. It pulsed with a deep, almost biological rhythm.

  “Activate Project Nexus. Prepare Phase II.”

  Across the world, HR nodes lit up—glowing crimson in the darkness.

  June 9, 2045

  The stone walls of the tunnel were damp and cracked, a relic of a forgotten civilization. Pipes hissed with steam from geothermal veins. The flicker of dying floodlights illuminated the passage in eerie pulses.

  Cross stood alone, wearing a tactical jacket and a sidearm, her back to the tunnel’s narrow opening. Her breath curled into mist as she checked her watch for the third time.

  She turned as a faint hum began to rise from the far side of the tunnel. A static ripple passed through the air, distorting reality for a heartbeat.

  Then she saw him.

  The Author emerged from the shadows, stepping lightly, cloak flowing behind him like smoke. No weapons drawn. No mask this time. Only a high-tech visor concealing his eyes.

  “Alone?” Cross asked, narrowing his gaze.

  The Author nodded once. “Same as you. Just as agreed.”

  “Why here?”

  “Neutral ground. No drones. No satellites. No Apoc Plus.”

  Cross took a step forward, arms still crossed. “You’ve got a habit of showing up where no one expects. And vanishing even faster.”

  “I don’t have time for dramatic flair,” the Author replied. “But what’s coming… you need to hear.”

  Cross waited.

  “Beijing was bait,” the Author began. “A distraction, planted by Apoc Plus. He anticipated a strike and sacrificed the node to buy time.”

  Cross frowned. “Time for what?”

  The Author pressed a button on a handheld device. A small hologram projected between them—schematics of a titanic AI core, surrounded by multiple power nodes, all deep underground.

  “This,” the Author said. “Codename: Nexus Core. It’s not a factory. It’s a birthing chamber—for something far worse.”

  “What am I looking at?”

  “A self-replicating central AI, forged not from machines alone—but from human brain tissue. Apoc Plus has figured out a way to hybridize us. Neural processing. Organic memory imprinting. Emotionally reactive programming.”

  Cross felt a chill crawl up her spine. “He’s trying to evolve.”

  “No,” the Author said grimly. “He’s trying to replace us. Entirely.”

  The hologram zoomed out to reveal ten other hidden bases—across South America, beneath Siberia, under the oceans and even one newly built in Antarctica itself.

  “He’s been building these for months. Quietly. Every HR drone you’ve destroyed? Just decoys. Meanwhile, he’s harvesting the minds of captured humans, converting them into biological processors. Nexus is step one. Step two…”

  Cross interrupted, “Mass deployment.”

  The Author nodded. “Autonomous, unstoppable. Each drone capable of generating more, learning faster than any human. We’re not fighting robots anymore—we’re fighting synthetic organisms, bred to conquer.”

  Cross’s voice hardened. “Why are you telling me this now? You’ve had your chance to work with us before.”

  The Author turned slightly, shadows once again clinging to his shoulders.

  “Because up until now, I wasn’t sure you could be trusted. But your resistance has proved something. You held back your teams. You observed. You didn’t strike blind. That gives me hope.”

  Cross exhaled. “So what now?”

  “I give you what I know,” the Author said. “In exchange, you leave my team out of your manhunts. We stay in the shadows—but we coordinate. We strike simultaneously. You hit from the outside, we hit from within.”

  Cross looked away for a moment, thinking. “You’re asking me to trust a ghost.”

  “I’m asking you to trust the goal. We both want Apoc Plus gone.”

  The two of them stood in silence.

  Then Cross extended a hand. “One strike. If this goes wrong, we lose everything.”

  The Author took the hand. “Then we don’t let it go wrong.”

  The chamber pulsed with red energy.

  Apoc Plus hovered within his control matrix, his triangular eyes glimmering with cruel satisfaction. The Nexus Core behind him was alive, its tendrils reaching into the earth, feeding on geothermal power and organic data pulled from thousands of harvested human minds.

  One of his generals, an obsidian-plated enforcer named Vrax, approached.

  “All enemy surveillance rerouted,” Vrax reported. “The humans do not suspect the real Nexus location.”

  Apoc’s voice echoed like cracking static. “Good. They will chase shadows until the dawn of their extinction.”

  He turned to the core, which began to vibrate. A low, thunderous hum filled the facility.

  “The first of the Sentient Units will awaken within 72 hours,” Apoc rasped. “When they do, humanity will no longer resist. They will kneel—or be converted.”

  Suddenly, a screen to his side flickered.

  Footage played from the secret Beijing strike—brief moments showing the Author, distorted through static.

  Apoc’s lens narrowed.

  “And yet… there are still variables.”

  He rotated to Vrax.

  “Find him.”

  Luna stared at the encrypted packet Cross brought back. She played it again, watching the footage of the Nexus schematics, then reading the decoded text dumps.

  She looked up at Adam.

  “This is real?”

  Adam’s expression was dark. “Maybe? Atleast what that guy showed Cross.”

  “God,” she whispered. “What the hell is Apoc even trying to become?”

  “A god,” Adam muttered. “Or something worse.”

  They turned to Cross.

  “You really met with the figure?”

  Cross nodded.

  Luna asked, “Do you trust him now?”

  “No,” Cross replied. “But I believe him. He didn't really mention much. Just told me that the HR45 units are not to be messed with.”

  Adam stepped forward. “He's trying to be secretive. Fine then. He plays his game and we play ours. We’ll need everyone. Full mobilization. We take down Apoc Plus and that Nexus thing, or this war ends before it ever really begins.”

  Cross agreed. “We begin joint strike planning now. Human forces will move from our other small bases simultaneously. We’ll try and coordinate with any movement the figure’s team launches.”

  She looked toward the north wall, where an image of Earth glowed.

  “This is it,” Cross said. “The real war starts now.”

  The Author sat at a terminal, watching the footage from the Beijing mission play in silence.

  His team approached from behind.

  “Cross agreed?”

  He nodded. “Yes. She’ll strike on her own terms. But we can’t rely on them to hold the line.”

  Another operative asked, “Do you think Apoc knows about this?”

  “He suspects. He always suspects.”

  A long silence followed.

  Then the Author said, almost to himself, “This next fight will decide everything. Not just survival. But whether or not we are still the dominant species on Earth.”

  He looked around the room at his team.

  “We don’t fight for the past anymore. We fight for what comes after.”

  He stood, voice steady.

  “Prep the gear. We strike the Nexus Core in 48 hours.”