From Billionaire to Lab Rat: My Cyborg Life

The Descent

Damian was in free fall, and it was like the world was trying to rip him apart. The elevator shaft was a black hole, nothing but darkness and the scream of wind blasting past his ears. It was so loud he couldn’t hear himself think, just a high-pitched howl that made his head throb. The drone he clung to was a dead weight, its busted frame shaking like it was about to fall apart in his hands. The cold metal dug into his palms, and his fingers were numb from gripping so hard. His stomach churned, doing flips like he was on the worst rollercoaster ever. Don’t lose it now, Damian, he told himself. You’re the Iron Sheep. You’ve got this.

He’d seen the elevator panel before the drone yanked him out: 2,940 meters down. That number was his lifeline. He was plummeting through the shaft, and he had to time this just right. The drone’s rotors could slow him down if he could get them spinning again. He’d ripped out the battery wire in the fight, and now he had to reconnect it, in the dark, while falling at terminal velocity. His ears were ringing, a piercing whine that felt like needles in his skull. The air was freezing, cutting through his torn jumpsuit, and the shaft walls were just a blur of gray streaks rushing by.

He started counting the meters in his head. 400 meters. His hands fumbled with the drone’s wiring, slick with sweat and a bit of blood from where the metal had cut him. The loose wire dangled, flapping in the wind. 500 meters. He found the battery pack, a clunky box strapped to the drone’s side. His fingers shook as he tried to line up the wire with the terminal. 600 meters. He was running out of time. The shaft was a void, and his gut was screaming at him to panic, but he forced himself to focus. You hacked the World Bank at 15. This is just a stupid drone.

At 800 meters, he jammed the wire back into the terminal. A spark flared, stinging his hand, and the drone’s rotors coughed to life. The sudden jolt nearly tore the thing out of his grip, but he held on, his arms burning. The rotors whined, fighting against the fall, and the drone shuddered like it was going to explode. It wasn’t enough to stop him, but it slowed the descent, turning the plummet into a wobbly, stomach-churning glide. His legs dangled, the wind still howling, and he could barely see the bottom of the shaft—just a faint glow far below.

He kept counting. 2,000 meters. 2,500 meters. At 2,890 meters—50 meters from the bottom—he cranked the drone’s rotors to full power. The machine screamed, the rotors spinning so fast they sounded like a jet engine. The fall slowed more, but it was still too fast. He braced himself, tucking his legs, as the lower service deck came into view—a grimy platform lit by flickering emergency lights. Here we go.

The landing was a mess. He hit the deck hard, the drone skidding across the metal floor with a screech, sparks flying as it slammed into a wall. Damian tumbled, his shoulder smacking a pipe, his knees scraping the ground. Pain exploded through his body, and his head felt like it had been split open, a ringing in his ears that wouldn’t quit. He lay there for a second, gasping, surrounded by drone parts—broken rotors, twisted metal, and bits of wiring scattered like junk from a crash site. His jumpsuit was shredded, his hands b****y, and his legs felt like they might give out. But he was alive. Holy crap, I’m not dead.

He pushed himself up, wincing at every movement. His whole body hurt, like he’d been tossed into a blender. His bag of food was gone, lost somewhere in the shaft, and his stomach growled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten in days. But there was no time to sit around feeling sorry for himself. He had to keep moving. The lower tunnels stretched out ahead, a maze of pipes, conduits, and dim lights. He limped forward, one hand on the wall to steady himself, his breathing ragged. The facility’s layout was clear in his mind: server room on one side, the powerhouse on the other. The powerhouse was his goal—the key to shutting this place down and forcing NeuroDyne’s taskforce to show up. That was his way out.

The tunnels were a nightmare to navigate. They twisted and turned, with loose grates and low ceilings that forced him to duck. Every step sent a jolt of pain through his bruised legs, and his head was still ringing from the fall. The air smelled like oil and rust, thick and heavy, making it hard to breathe. He stumbled over a pipe, nearly face-planting, and cursed under his breath. Keep it together, Damian. You’re almost there. His body was screaming at him to stop, but he couldn’t. Not now. He pictured the taskforce jets landing, giving him a window to escape. All he had to do was knock out the power.

After what felt like an eternity, he saw a heavy blast door with “POWER CONTROL ROOM” stenciled on it. His heart jumped. That’s it. He swiped his unlocking device, and the door hissed open, revealing a massive room filled with rows of breakers, consoles, and screens flashing data. It looked like the control center for a spaceship, all sleek metal and blinking lights. In the middle was a huge lever labeled “EMERGENCY DISCONNECT / MASTER POWER.” That was his target. The thing that could bring this whole facility to its knees.

He staggered to the lever, ignoring the pain shooting through his legs. His hands were shaking, but he grabbed the lever with both hands and pulled. Nothing. It didn’t budge. A red light flashed on a nearby console: “AUTHORIZATION REQUIRED.” You’ve got to be kidding me. He yanked again, harder, but it was locked tight, electronically interlocked. He ran to a backup console, jabbing at the touchscreen, but every input came back with “ACCESS DENIED.” He tried his unlocking device, hoping it could override the system, but the console beeped angrily, and a piercing alarm blared through the room.

Oh, crap. He’d screwed up. The screens lit up with warnings, and he could hear the hum of systems locking down. NeuroDyne had built this place like a fortress—redundancies on top of redundancies, multiple nodes that needed clearance to shut anything down. He’d thought he could just flip a switch and call it a day, but they were way ahead of him. His chest tightened, frustration boiling over. He slammed his fist on the console, the alarm still screaming in his ears. They’re smarter than I thought. The weight of it hit him hard—he’d come so far, survived the fall, and now this? He felt like he was drowning in NeuroDyne’s systems, like they’d planned for every move he could make.

He stood there, staring at the lever, his mind racing. The alarm was probably bringing every drone in the facility down on him. He was out of food, out of time, and his body was falling apart. But he wasn’t done yet. Okay, Damian, think. If the powerhouse won’t work, there’s still the server room. If he could take down the central server, he could cripple their network. It was a long shot, and he’d have to cross the facility again, but it was all he had. The alarm kept blaring, and he knew he had to move—now—or he’d be caught. With a last glance at the useless lever, he turned and limped back into the tunnels, ready to fight another day.