It wasn’t a city—it was a decaying organism.
Toxic vapors leaking from rusted pipes carried the stench of rot that hung in the air. Neon signs flickered with erratic anger, their circuits failing—purple, red, and dirty white lights pulsed through the streets like the heartbeat of something soulless. The walls were covered in overlapping gang symbols, each one the mark of a different story of violence, a different loser’s trace.
You could feel the lurking intent in every corner. In Grimhaven, justice was as cheap as rust.
The Black Pit Fight Arena was the beating heart of the underworld. Hidden within a domed structure supported by concrete pillars, it resembled a massive cistern defying gravity. Once a waste-processing facility, it now purified nothing but blood.
At the center stood a broad, circular ring. Its floor was covered in metal plates, stained and dried with sweat, blood, and disappointment. Every dent, every rusty scratch had a story—some of which would never be told.
The crowd in the stands roared with fury. Betting tables were surrounded, odds flickering constantly on digital screens. Old projectors hung from a mess of cables, casting light over the stage like a shrine to some god of crime. The air was suffocating with cigarette smoke and the sharp sting of cheap synth-alcohol.
And now, in that blood-blessed arena, two figures stood face to face.
Borka “Wrecker” Vask. Towering over two meters tall, he looked less like a fighter and more like a weapon of war. Cables embedded into his body trailed to a small generator on his back. His left arm was fully bionic; every move hissed with mechanical pistons, whispering death like a warning to his opponent.
Across from him stood a lean silhouette: Raven Karr.
Tall, wiry build. He wore a modest, flexible combat suit designed for mobility yet resilient against strikes. Even in the dim light, his face looked determined—but his eyes… his eyes were those of a man who had left something behind. Eyes that had made peace with darkness, that had embraced silence.
The signal to begin was given.
The first move came from Borka. A thunderous punch crashed down like a hammer. Raven darted aside; the metal fist slammed into the floor with rage. He recovered with a sweeping spin low to the ground, then stepped back, knees bent.
Borka’s elbow slashed through the air like a blade. Raven ducked just in time, missing it by mere inches.
Borka’s fighting style was all brute force. Every strike, every motion was built to destroy. There was no technique, only fury. He didn’t fight to win—he fought to crush, to suffocate, to break.
But Raven… he flowed.
Like a river, he shifted direction, turning his opponent’s momentum to his own advantage. His feet seemed tied not to the ground, but to the air itself. Every spin, every step, every evasion was part of a dance.
The giant moved again, swinging a punch from above.
Raven ducked, knee skimming the floor as he spun—reading Borka’s stance in the half-second before striking.
He saw an opening.
His foot struck the ground. He leaped, and a spinning kick struck Borka in the neck, right at throat level. A metallic clang echoed. The giant flinched. His knees bent.
That one second of pause was a lifetime for Raven.
He surged forward. Knee first, then elbow, then shoulder. A series of swift, rhythmic strikes smashed Borka’s head to the side. Every blow seemed to carry a piece of Raven’s past—regret, loss, rage… all turned into punches.
But Borka didn’t fall. Raven reset for the final strike. He tensed, lunged—
And then…
Something happened.
The giant’s bionic arm shot up, almost reflexively, and slammed into Raven’s chest. With a hiss of steam from the piston, the impact exploded with brutal force.
Raven’s breath caught in his throat. He couldn’t control his body. His back slammed into the cold metal floor. Pain radiated through his chest like a shockwave.
For a heartbeat, there was silence—then the crowd erupted in screams. As the ground swallowed him in a dull hum, his vision began to darken.
And as his consciousness faded, a single sentence echoed in his mind:
“I’ve lost… again.”
A voice echoed in his mind. It was cold, flat, and mechanical. It didn’t sound like a living being, but rather like a flawlessly functioning machine.
“Vital parameters critical. System override initiating. Autonomous interface protocol online. Sub-unit designation: Intelligent Operational Nanite.”
His eyelids were heavy, but somehow, they opened again. He was surrounded by darkness. His vision was blurry; he could barely make out a faint light reflecting off a broken metal sheet onto his face. The air around him was thick and smelled of rust. His throat was dry, and the air in his lungs carried the sharp scent of decayed oil, metal dust, and blood.
He was in the middle of a junkyard. His body was buried under rusted parts, sharp edges, and shattered armor plates. His dust-covered skin bore open wounds, some still bleeding. A dark liquid was stuck to his face. He had no idea how much of it was blood and how much was… something else.
“Who the hell are you?”
His voice was little more than a whisper. He didn’t have the strength to speak any louder. But that thing… that mechanical presence inside him, responded immediately.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“Sub-unit designation: ION. Nanite cluster status: partial activation. Operational nanites: 92,781. System not fully functional. Exoskeletal link: failure.”
Raven squinted and turned his head slightly, as if he could see the source of the voice. But it was pointless. The voice… was inside him. It echoed through his mind, touched his nerves.
“Where the fuck are you hiding?!”
“Sub-unit ION currently embedded within Host-02’s neurosynaptic matrix. Vital stability: critically compromised. Initiating emergency restoration protocols via nanite-driven regenerative cascade.”
A brief silence followed. He wasn’t sure how much of that mechanical jargon he understood. But his body had begun to respond, if only slightly. Raven took a deep breath, then slowly pushed himself upright. His bones cracked as he moved. Every motion was heavy, and the pain… rooted him in place. His wounds were still there — broken ribs, bruises on his shoulder, a cut on his chin.
“What the hell are you tryin’ to say?”
The mechanical voice replied at once.
“Integrative response failure. Host comprehension insufficient. Executing fallback: linguistic simplification… I am ION. You are my host. I’m trying to stop you from dying.”
Raven’s heartbeat suddenly quickened. A rhythmic vibration pulsed through his chest. As his pulse roared in his ears, he felt a wave of energy rise from within. It was as if raw power had begun flowing through his veins. His muscles twitched, his fingers moved. Everything felt surreal, but his body was brimming with strength.
“What the fuck did you just do to me?!”
“[NRC-15] Neurochemical Regulator activated. Adrenal and dopaminergic surges deployed to stimulate motor function. Temporary homeostasis achieved. Host advised to initiate spatial relocation to a sterile and structurally secure perimeter.”
He looked around. Beyond the scrap and wreckage, he could see nothing. But he understood that he needed to get up.
“Hey! I told you, I don’t get it. Say it straight!”
ION fell silent for a moment. It was as if it was running internal calculations. Then its voice returned — lower, sharper, and… with a hint of disdain.
“Cognitive processing bandwidth is insufficient. Host-02 displays suboptimal IQ and inadequate data assimilation for high-tier command interpretation. Permanent transition to low-fidelity linguistic interface. Language mode: downgraded. Current status: temporary neurochemical enhancement deployed — dopaminergic burst active. Directive simplified: You feel strong now. Move to a clean, safe area. I’m going to heal you.”
Raven wiped the blood from his forehead with his arm. This entity, this ION… was giving him a second chance. Buried under a mountain of scrap and on the brink of death, this machine-born voice had pulled him back up. Whatever it was didn’t matter right now. He had to survive.
Despite trembling legs, he locked his knees and stood up. His fingers dug into a coolant pipe—still warm, sticky with something that wasn’t oil. A dusty metal plate cracked beneath the tip of his boot. He struggled to keep his balance but didn’t fall.
“Alright, didn’t mean dumb it down that much.”
He could feel ION treating him like an idiot. ION replied.
“Would you like the language module to be restored to higher levels?”
He paused for a moment, then slowly shook his head.
“No.”
“Affirmative. Expected response received. Host-02’s intelligence level matches predictions. Now leave this area.”
As he climbed out of the junk heap, metal pieces slid off his shoulder and tumbled down. He couldn’t suppress the rasp in his throat, but there was a faint spark in his eyes. He muttered to himself:
“You’ve got one hell of an attitude.”
ION // SYSTEM FEEDBACK — [Session: 001 | Operator: Host-02]
Interface: ION_v4.6.1_β // Connection Stable [?]
[?] [MRS-09] Molecular Restoration System
- Operational Efficiency: 8.2%
- Primary Function:
→ Facilitates tissue regeneration via nano-scale biosynthetic repair protocols
→ Applies localized reconstruction on muscle, epidermal, and limited neural tissues
→ Simulates auto-fibrin production and coagulation to suppress superficial bleeding
→ Engages limited immunosuppression to minimize infection risk
- Critical Limitation:
→ In cases of major tissue disruption or internal organ trauma, system enters “Hemostatic Mode”
→ Prioritizes active hemorrhage control; regeneration rate significantly reduced
→ If operational load exceeds 60%, system may enter temporary shutdown
[?] [NRC-15] Neurochemical Regulator
- Operational Efficiency: 5.8%
- Primary Function:
→ Modulates adrenaline, dopamine, and cortisol levels in real-time according to tactical demands
→ Suppresses pain perception to enhance endurance
→ Triggers short-term physiological overdrive for increased strength/speed/reflexes
→ In critical states, forcibly activates fight-or-flight responses via “Overdrive” protocol
- Side Effects: Prolonged usage may induce hallucinations, cranial pressure, gastric distress, and tachycardia (See Report #A7-12)
System Notice: Stated efficiency percentages apply only under conditions of full, synchronized nanite allocation to each individual module. Partial or multi-tasking deployments may result in fluctuating efficiency levels.
Raven // BODYCHECK
→ Gear:
? Garbage
→ Weapon:
? Left Hook of God? (Cool, huh?)
→ Additions:
? Bad vibes (Persistent)