The first wave came from the shadows—not with guns or blades, but with a sound.
It started as a low hum, barely audible beneath the wail of the alarm, a vibration that seemed to rise from the floor and travel through the soles of their boots. Caleb felt it in his teeth, in the scar behind his ear, in the hollow places of his skull where the old programming still lurked. The hum grew louder, a pressure building in the air, and then the walls began to move.
Steel panels slid open, revealing hidden apertures that lined the corridor walls. From those apertures emerged machines—sleek, insectile, their bodies gleaming with the cold light of the control room. They moved on jointed legs, their heads swiveling with a mechanical precision that was somehow worse than any human threat. They carried
