The Red Pulse
961 Words
The mansion wasn’t truly abandoned.
It just forgot how to breathe.
Nolan slipped through a side corridor lined with statues—half-man, half-machine. Their faces had been melted, as if they’d once seen something they weren’t supposed to.
The deeper he went, the more the stink of coolant and ozone filled his lungs. The walls were pulse-wired with leftover HELIX tech. Surveillance nodes blinked above like old eyes, blind or pretending to be.
He reached the vault chamber at the heart of the compound. Just like in the stolen blueprints.
Inside, the Red Pulse sat in a containment cradle—one vial, glowing faint crimson, like blood seen through closed eyelids. Cold vapor hissed around it.
Nolan opened the case carefully. Every second counted. He hadn’t triggered any alarms, but that didn’t mean he was safe.
He slipped the vial into a shock-proof pouch on his chest.
Turned to leave.
And the lights snapped off.
Only a voice remained.
“You made it farther than most.”
Korr Vox emerged from the dark like a god peeled from chrome. Shirtless. His skin shimmered with embedded alloys—liquid steel stretching over muscle. His breath hissed through slits in his neck. One eye was mechanical, spinning softly. The other burned with amusement.
“Do you know what that serum is, thief?”
“I know it can save a life,” Nolan said.
Korr laughed—a low, broken sound. “It’s not a cure. It’s a curse. The original prototype. The Architect’s last design. It was meant to evolve us. Instead, it nearly killed him.”
“I’ll take that chance.”
“You won’t get the chance.”
Korr stepped forward, metal feet thudding on the floor. The mansion groaned around him.
Nolan’s heart pounded—not with fear, but calculation. Every breath counted. Every movement had been rehearsed.
He wasn’t stronger.
He wasn’t faster.
But he had planned for this.
His eyes darted upward. A coolant pipe ran low above Korr’s path. One weak weld—he’d marked it days ago.
He slid a hand behind his back and flicked open his EMP blade.
“I didn’t come to fight,” Nolan said.
Then he slashed upward—not at Korr, but at the pipe.
The line burst. Sub-zero vapor screamed into the room, coating everything in frost. Visibility dropped to zero. A chemical shriek echoed off the walls. Nolan felt the sting in his lungs, the bite in his joints.
But Korr suffered more.
His metallic skin buckled. The sudden drop in temperature froze micro-circuits mid-transmission. Sparks flew from his chest. He roared and stumbled.
Nolan was already moving.
Phase one complete.
He weaved through the maze-like halls, counting turns. He had mapped this route dozens of times in simulation, but simulations didn’t account for adrenaline.
He skidded to a stop at the first trap point. Reached into his coat. Slapped a magnetic burst mine onto a column, then ducked into a recess.
Footsteps boomed. Korr was still coming—slower now, grunting, but relentless.
He stepped past the trigger.
Nolan whispered, “Now.”
The mine exploded sideways, pulling beams from the walls like iron fangs. They slammed into Korr’s legs. He dropped to one knee, armor buckling. Nolan expected him to fall.
Instead, Korr screamed—and his body transformed.
His skin liquefied into a silver tide, flowing over the twisted beams. They shattered under pressure. He rose, seething, more machine than man now, molten and burning.
“You really think you can outplay a god?” he snarled.
Nolan didn’t answer. He was already running.
But something inside him twisted.
Doubt.
His traps had worked—barely.
Korr was adapting faster than expected. Too fast.
He’s had centuries, Nolan realized. Decades of experience fighting rebels, spies, worse. He wasn’t just strong—he was intelligent.
And Nolan? Just a street rat with good intel and a dying mother.
The thought almost broke him.
Almost.
He reached the upper balcony, where glass walls opened to the city—New Century’s towers glittering beyond the Heap. Below, the sprawl of metal and smoke churned like a sleeping beast.
Behind him, Korr’s footfalls grew louder.
“I’ve lived a hundred years,” Korr said, voice distorted. “You think you can kill me with tricks?”
“No,” Nolan said, turning. “But I can outlast you.”
He pulled the final piece from his coat—a signal spike, calibrated to the Red Pulse's frequency.
He slammed it into the floor.
The vial on his chest hummed in response.
Korr froze.
The signal surged through the room, interfering with the synthetic serum in his bloodstream. Feedback loops exploded. Korr howled, clutching his head as arcs of lightning burst from his spine.
“You don't get it,” Nolan said. “You've upgraded everything—except your thinking.”
Korr dropped to one knee, convulsing, his systems betraying him. His eye flickered wildly. Blood—real blood—began to seep from the corners of his mouth.
“You… don’t know what you’ve done…”
“No,” Nolan whispered, stepping back toward the shattered balcony rail. “But I know what I’m going to do.”
Then he jumped.
The fall was violent. His body smashed through a rusted scaffold, scraped against old ducting, and slammed into the sludge below.
Pain exploded through him—but it was still better than facing Korr a second longer.
He coughed, rolled, staggered up.
The vial was still intact.
Red Pulse. His mother’s last hope.
And behind him, the mansion still burned with artificial light—
But one god had just bled.
And that meant they could all fall.
- Writer
