Ashen Crucible

Chapter Six: The Intruder

Chapter Six: The Intruder (Part 1)

Clockwork City served as the regional headquarters of Roxellan Corporation's Central Division. Located over 200 kilometers from Asmo and 150 kilometers from the main base, this distance represented the maximum operational radius for the division's outdated tanks in an era devoid of highways, where most terrain consisted of rugged wastelands dotted with ruins.

At dawn's first light, Clockwork City awoke to roaring engines and crisp military commands. Five light troop carriers lined up in the central square as fully armed soldiers boarded in orderly fashion. Nearby idled two rugged off-road jeeps, their gunners lounging against anti-aircraft machine guns while sneering at the green recruits. Flanking each gunner stood a veteran clutching RPG rocket launchers.

Li stood ramrod straight in her dress uniform, face frozen in severity as she monitored the boarding operation. When the last soldier climbed aboard, she checked her wristwatch - thirty seconds faster than her scheduled deadline.

With a curt nod, she strode toward her command vehicle, personally taking the driver's seat. The four-wheel-drive roared to life, tires screeching as it surged ahead of the convoy, rapidly disappearing into the distance. The half-dozen elite second and third-tier combatants in her vehicle remained motionless despite the violent acceleration, their trained bodies absorbing the jolts with ease.

Watching the command car vanish, troop carrier drivers broke into cold sweats. They stomped accelerators without regard for passenger comfort or formation integrity, transforming the convoy into a dust-churning stampede out of Clockwork City.

In the eighteen-story office tower that served as Roxellan's restored regional headquarters, Rigaud observed the departing forces from eleventh-floor windows. Though Li had left the tanks behind, this strike force represented her most elite unit - overkill for suppressing newly arrived raiders encroaching on corporate territory. For Li herself to lead such a mission...

Even Rigaud wouldn't want to face her in open combat. These raiders' misfortune coincided perfectly with Li's foul mood. Rigaud felt no pity - Roxellan's tank-emblazoned crest embodied this era's single law: power dictated rights. Rules only existed between equals; enforcement required overwhelming force. Countless edicts rose and fell daily across the wastelands.

Only a corporate leviathan like Roxellan could nurture someone like Li. In small squads, Rigaud could best her. With twenty soldiers, outcomes became uncertain. At battalion strength? Li's forces would obliterate his while retaining majority combat readiness. Such were the advantages of commanding Roxellan's 200-strong private army.

The convoy had long disappeared, but dust plumes still stained the horizon. Rigaud turned from the window, pressing buttons on his desk phone. A reedy yet aged voice answered: "Who dares? Corporate protocol clearly states—"

"Rigaud."

The voice muttered obscenities before relenting. "What? I've experiments piling up!"

"Analysis results. Now."

"Just completed... Wait! This... you need to see this in person!"

Rigaud exploded from his office, bypassing elevators to charge up six flights of emergency stairs. Security scans cleared him into the sprawling biochemical lab where a wizened scientist trembled before microscope lenses - Dr. Rostan, Roxellan's chief biochemist and creator of fourth-tier combat enhancements.

At Rigaud's touch, Rostan surrendered the electron microscope. Through the green-tinged oculars, Rigaud saw fields of dead cells interspersed with notoriously resilient bacteria carcasses.

"These..." Rigaud straightened, fixing the sweating scientist with interrogative glare.

Rostan mopped his brow. "Unprecedented! Where did you obtain this specimen? It's... indescribable!"

Frenetic keyboard strokes summoned nightmarish footage: healthy cells and bacteria thrived until an engorged cell burst, releasing dozens of alien variants. The invaders moved a hundredfold faster, impaling other cells with needle-like protrusions to inject corrosive fluids. Victims ruptured within seconds, spawning more invaders. Within sixty seconds, the microscopic ecosystem became uniform g******e.

Rigaud's palms turned clammy. "This came from my sample?"

Rostan nodded violently. "The recording shows only the final stages. Initially there was one live cell - I call them Intruders. It slaughtered everything it touched, converting victims into breeding pods! I barely remembered to hit record!"

The screen froze on cellular c*****e. "If..." Rigaud's voice thickened.

Rostan anticipated: "If these entered a human body? We'd mutate into monstrosities within thirty minutes! God knows what abominations would emerge!"

Rigaud's hand twitched - a rare c***k in his composure. Unnoticed, Rostan continued: "The 'good' news? Intruders die after sixty seconds without prey. Their hyper-metabolism requires constant fuel. Also, they never attack their own kind."

"Run genetic analysis."

Rostan shook his head, displaying shattered gene sequences. "This is their DNA - meaningless nucleic acid fragments! They auto-destruct genetic material upon death. These things behave like they possess sentience!"

"The sample - any intact Intruder DNA?"

"None survived. The last active one I transferred to culture dish triggered this massacre." Rostan checked timestamps. "Total ecosystem collapse: two minutes eleven seconds."

For cells, the petri dish represented continental scale.

"If these entered living tissue... incubation period? Mutation risks?"

"Latency seems unlikely given their aggression. But mutations?" Rostan shuddered. "Thank God I followed containment protocols - never made skin contact."

Rigaud's ashen expression told the truth.

"You... you handled it?!" Rostan recoiled into chemical cabinets. A liter of concentrated acid teetered above his head.

Rigaud snatched the falling bottle centimeters from impact. Rostan stared petrified - not at the acid, but Rigaud's virus-exposed arm.

Three blood samples later, Rigaud incinerated the syringe with blue flame from his palm. "Test these. Now."

Rostan remained plastered against shelves, nodding mechanically.

"Delete all footage backups except mine. No word to anyone - especially General Li. If this leaks..." Rigaud's eyes turned arctic. "Perry dies."

Rostan blanched. His seven-year-old daughter's name hung between them.

For three days, Rigaud sat statue-still behind his desk, fingers steepled beneath his chin, watching polluted skies. Subordinates delivered reports to his silent reception. He consumed nothing but water.

Dawn's fourth day brought convoy dust clouds - Li's return. Rigaud rose, hand hovering over his phone until it rang abruptly.

Rostan's voice crackled: "Results negative! No Intruders detected!"

Rigaud collapsed into his chair as the scientist's anxious cries continued.

An hour later, Rigaud emerged from the labs disheveled and hollow-eyed. His stomach roared - three days' hunger manifesting in cold sweats. Yet he first contacted central command: "Where's General Li?"

"Underground firing range."

The armory's soundproof doors unleashed gunpowder stench and deafening reports - unfamiliar weapons producing uniquely savage acoustics.

Chapter 6: The Intruders (Part 2)

Two ammunition managers at the shooting range whispered behind the counter: "Hey, who do you think would use something like that?"

"Who knows? Maybe only mutants could handle such a monstrous piece."

"God knows. I've never seen a handgun like this. Must've been made by some lunatic."

Their hushed conversation stopped abruptly when Rigault entered. Both snapped to attention with military salutes.

Rigault nodded and headed toward the underground range. The deafening gunshots echoing up the stairs dwarfed even his modified Desert Eagle's roar. Three consecutive explosions sent waves of heat rolling through the air, followed by Li's furious curse: "Goddammit!"

Approaching Li from behind, Rigault followed her glare to the bullet-riddled target wall 50 meters away. The shredded silhouette target retained only two hits, the rest of the custom 5.56mm rounds having torn craters meters off-mark. Li clutched Su's modified handgun, two empty ammo boxes on the firing bench beside her.

The special rounds caught Rigault's eye. He picked one up, noting the intricate rune-like engravings covering the bullet - precision work far beyond normal machining. His fingers trembled slightly as he replaced it.

"Try this devil's toy yourself!" Li suddenly tossed the handgun at Rigault. It clattered to the floor, the impact triggering an accidental discharge. The round obliterated the remaining target as the weapon skidded back against the wall.

Li turned sharply, finding Rigault pale-faced and sweating. "Sorry," he forced a smile, "spaced out for a second."

"You used this during the mission?" Rigault asked, gesturing at the weapon.

Li's venomous glare answered him. The handgun's thunderous reports had overshadowed even heavy machine guns during the firefight - yet all six shots missed. While her troops tactfully avoided mocking their commander's marksmanship, the weapon's infamy had spread.

Back at Pendulum City, Li had immediately come here to test the cursed gun.

Rigault's mind flashed to Dr. Rosenstein's frozen screen image. Forcing a laugh, he retrieved the weapon. Five rapid shots boomed through the range, two rounds hitting near the target center. "Your pretty boy probably only uses this within 20 meters," he observed, handing it back.

Li holstered the gun, slapping Rigault's chest. "Thanks. Lunch is on me - but you're paying for drinks." As she left, a coin danced across her knuckles before disappearing.

"Get a blood test with the Doc later," Rigault called after her. "New mutated species reported nearby. Better safe."

Li waved dismissively but nodded. The coin's phantom gleam lingered in Rigault's vision long after she'd gone.

Noon's sweltering heat clung to the wasteland as two battered trucks crawled across cracked earth. Su rode the rear truck's flank, his modified rifle drawing wary respect from grizzled mercenaries. Though appearing frail, his corner seat went unchallenged - snipers earned privileges.

Three hours into the patrol, crumbling highway remnants signaled ambush territory. Su's eyes snapped open, heartbeat accelerating as suppressed instincts flared. The lead truck's windshield exploded crimson before anyone reacted.

"Machine gun nest! Take cover!" the commander roared from behind cover. His order was punctuated by Su's rifle bark. A hundred meters away, a concrete villa's firing slit went silent.

Chaos erupted. Thirty militia scrambled while professionals returned disciplined fire. Su became death's metronome - each thunderous report felling an attacker. When the heavy machine gun roared back to life, his scope revealed a preteen girl operating it, tear-streaked face twisted with hate.

Memories flashed - another girl's face from years past. Hesitation cost another mercenary his life. Su's crosshair pupils constricted. The next round detonated the machine gun's barrel, shrapnel embedding in the child's forehead.

Search teams later executed every survivor. Su leaned against a truck bed, smoking his last cigarette as gunshots echoed through the settlement. The commander approached, offering a fresh smoke: "Not feeling well?"

"Just tired."

The old warlord studied the c*****e. "You earned double pay today." He walked away, leaving Su to exhale smoke and ghosts.