He was moving fast toward the city’s exit. Each step echoed on the cracked asphalt; steam from rusted pipes hit his face. But it didn’t matter. He had a clear goal: the train station.
The train to Delta-6 left only once a day. It was set to depart in just one hour. If he was lucky, he could still get a ticket for 3000 credits. If he wasn’t… he didn’t have time to think about that.
As soon as he reached the station’s massive metal stairs, he began to climb. But only a few steps in, he froze. His heart jumped in his chest when he spotted three dark silhouettes descending from above. He recognized them instantly by the logo on their chests: Rustjaw Gang.
His reflexes saved him. Without thinking, he darted back down the stairs and dove next to a trash can, curling up beside a passed-out drunk wrapped in filthy rags. He slipped under the man’s blanket. The stench of filth and alcohol stung his nose, but it was better than getting caught. The drunk didn’t even notice his presence.
As the three gang members passed, one of them sneered.
“Little punk named Raven-” he said.
“Boss wants his spine in a jar.”
Once the footsteps faded, Raven quickly wriggled out from under the blanket. Time was running out. He rushed back toward the stairs, heart pounding. Only now did he understand why they were really after him. On ION’s suggestion, he had stolen a bag belonging to the gang’s leader! In the thrill of it all, he hadn’t even considered who the man was. And now he was paying the price.
Before reaching the ticket booth, he scanned his surroundings. Everything seemed calm. Without wasting another second, he approached the counter. Behind the thick glass sat a plump woman with a blank, discontent expression.
“One ticket to Delta-6.” Raven said, voice firm but weary.
The woman popped her gum and pointed at a device.
“Scan your ID, please.”
Raven forced a polite smile.
“I’m headed to my dad’s funeral. Left my ID back home… Think you could just let it slide this once?”
The woman looked into his eyes for a moment. For a brief second, Raven felt hopeful. Maybe the lie would work… But that hope popped just like her gum.
“Scan your ID!” she repeated—harsher this time.
Cursing under his breath, Raven pulled out his ID and scanned it. The woman froze, eyes locked on the screen. Then her face twisted with rage. She suddenly shouted:
“You biiitch!”
Raven recoiled in confusion. The woman turned on the holographic screen of the communication device. On the screen was a smiling photo of her and the fat gang member Raven had beaten up.
“You’re the asshole who beat up my chubby baby, aren’t you?!”
She leapt to her feet, belly pressing against the mic, her words coming out as muffled growls. Raven panicked.
“No! You’ve got the wrong person, ma’am! That’s not me—”
She tapped furiously on her communication device, her face full of vengeance. Raven knew where this was going. His eyes darted back to the stairs, and he ran.
As he bolted up the stairs, people bumped into him, voices shouting all around. He struggled to stay on his feet. But fate was laughing at him. The same three gang members who’d come down earlier were now rushing up.
Raven stopped thinking. He just moved. Leaping forward, he stepped on one gang member’s head, tried for a second jump—but lost his balance. His body crashed onto the stairs, and a cry escaped his throat. He finally slammed into an old man and came to a stop. A sharp pain shot through his left arm, and blood blurred his vision.
But he couldn’t stop. He mustn’t. Clutching his injured arm, he forced himself up and kept running.
“Left arm broken and forehead bruised. Initiating treatment.” said a cold, metallic voice in his head.
Raven couldn’t even hear ION. He was just running—pure instinct, a hunted animal fleeing predators.
“Turn left here.” ION commanded again.
“Fuck off!” Raven spat, rage boiling over.
“Failure to obey orders will trigger disciplinary protocol.”
“Screw your damn protocol!” he screamed.
“Yeah, go ahead, enforce it—so those Rustjaw pricks can catch me and peel me like a fucking fruit! Maybe they’ll turn you into a toaster while they’re at it, you piece of junk!”
ION fell silent. Maybe it had malfunctioned. Or maybe it was just offended. But Raven kept running, despite the unbearable pain in his arm.
“What would it have fucking cost you, huh?! Letting me steal that damn battery?!”
“A host of ION is strictly prohibited from committing crimes.” ION finally responded. Its voice was mechanical, but tinged with a hint of regret.
Breathless, Raven scanned the streets as he shouted:
“But when you saw those sweet arena credits, you started talking different!” Then, mimicking ION’s voice, he mocked:
“Sufficient for the battery. As soon as Drail arrives, we’ll purchase the BR-FUCK model!”
ION’s tone shifted. Though still mechanic, there was unmistakable fragility in its voice:
“It’s BR7893. Not BR-FUCK. And please, turn left. I’ve mapped the city over the last four days.”
Just then, several Rustjaw members appeared in the street to his right. They saw him.
“Goddammit!” Raven whispered and turned left, just as ION instructed.
He was no longer thinking. He had surrendered to ION’s directions, pushing his body to its last limits. Left, right… Each turn brought a sliver of hope, each corner a new threat. The tighter the streets, the shorter his breath. Echoes of footsteps, coughs from beggars, the squeals of rats bursting from trash piles—this was the city’s rotten heart laid bare.
He turned another corner, only to slam to a stop. A cold concrete wall loomed in front of him—an alley with no exit.
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?!” he shouted, his voice cracking. Sweat dripped to his lips, tasting of salt and desperation. A drunk nearby, awakened by the noise, spat on the ground and grumbled.
“Calm down. Your stress and adrenaline levels are dangerously high.” ION said, equal parts warning and patience in its tone.
Raven frantically looked around, his breath ragged. The gang’s shouts echoed closer, their shadows stretching under flickering neon lights.
“Tell your fucking mom to calm the fuck down!” he yelled back.
“Look to your right. Do you see the iron pipe? You can use it to climb up to the roof!” said ION in a firm tone.
Raven’s eyes locked onto the pipe. It was long and rusty. But it was a chance to escape. Just as he was about to leap, the unbearable pain in his left arm pulled him back. Gritting his teeth, he shouted:
“My arm’s broken, you fucking tin can!”
“I’ll reduce the pain. Just do as I say, Raven.” ION’s voice was harsher this time. At the same moment, a slight numbness spread through his arm. The pain had faded… but in its place came a dull, dead sensation. His arm felt like a piece of meat now.
There was no time.
He gathered all his strength and lunged at the pipe. His fingers barely clung to the slick metal, and he began pulling himself up with one arm. Using his knees for support, it took several endless seconds to reach the edge of the roof. Just then, the gang members entered the street. Raven held his breath. But none of them looked up. Shouts and curses echoed, and the men scattered in another direction.
Raven collapsed, pressing his back against the cold, rough surface of the roof. His chest felt like it was about to explode. He pulled out the backpack he stole from the Rustjaws. He had emptied everything in his old bag into this bag. He lay on his back, and stared up at the ceiling—or rather, the concrete void lit by flickering neons that resembled a night sky. Then suddenly, as if he couldn’t breathe, he started laughing. A hysterical laugh… His arm throbbed. The break had worsened during the climb.
Clenching his teeth, he opened the bag and pulled out a small injector device. The painkiller he had used before. With trembling fingers, he pressed it to his arm. He sighed as the needle pierced under his skin. The pain faded within seconds. But so did the sensation.
Wiping the sweat from his brow, he got up and walked to the wall at the edge of the roof. He angrily hurled the bag to the ground and collapsed onto it. Leaned back against the wall. He had no strength left to run. No hope. Just the grey city and its metallic solitude.
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“What am I supposed to do now…?” he muttered. He couldn’t cry. He couldn’t scream. He was drowning in his own darkness.
“Please grant me access to the Myralite source.” said ION, as if nothing had happened.
That indifference was enough to drive Raven insane.
“Listen to me, you piece of shit ION!” he shouted.
“There is no Western Union! Even if I brought you a ton of Myralite, it wouldn’t matter! No one’s going to answer your damn calls! Got it?! Now leave me the hell alone so I can find a way out!”
Silence. Nothing but the hum of the night and the city. Until ION spoke again.
“I know.”
That word made Raven jolt upright. His eyes widened.
“You know? If you knew, then why the fuck did you keep nagging me about the damn battery?!”
ION’s voice was calmer this time.
“I didn’t know back then, Raven. Over the last four days, I’ve scanned every face we encountered in the system. None were registered. That’s… impossible. The only logical explanation is that the year is 2158. So… it’s likely what you’ve told me is true.”
Raven lifted his head. There was no sky, but he looked at the glowing neon lights. The colors were beautiful… but this city, this world, had vomited its soul. It was dirty. It was fake.
“Then what the hell are you gonna do with the Myralite?” he asked in a low voice.
ION paused.
“If my nanite count increases, I can activate more of my functions. Your healing will accelerate. I can help you escape this city.”
Raven closed his eyes for a moment. The fight at Drail’s workshop replayed in his mind. The support ION had given him… had turned him into something that fought like a monster.
He quickly opened his bag, pulling out the rusted, dented battery. He stared at the decaying piece of metal, wondering what kind of power it might unleash.
“What should I do now?” he asked curiously. Did he need to isolate the Myralite in a chemical solution?
ION responded. Calm and clear:
“Please perform a lingual frictional action.”
Raven frowned.
“What the hell are you talking about?! I told you to keep it simple!”
After a brief silence, ION simplified:
“Lick it.”
Raven raised his eyebrows, his mouth slightly open. As if wanting to make sure he heard it right, he asked again:
“What?!”
“Please lick the outer surface of the battery, Raven.”
“I’ll get poisoned, man!” Raven shouted, eyes wide. He looked at the rusty, nearly decaying battery in his hand; the sharp metallic scent rising from its surface burned his nose.
ION immediately replied, in the same emotionless cybernetic tone as always:
“I will heal you.”
Raven was losing his mind. Was this serious? In the year 2158, an advanced AI, a marvel of nanotechnology, was asking him to lick a rusty tin can?
He turned inward for a moment. ‘What the hell am I even doing?’ Disgust rose in his throat, and his eyes shut involuntarily. Then he took a deep breath, one that stung his nostrils. Even while breathing in, the rusty smell of metal clung to his lungs.
“Okay…” he murmured.
“Goddammit…”
He clenched his lips. Held the battery with both hands, fingers trembling. Then… he extended his tongue.
At first contact, when the metal hit his tongue, all his nerves screamed. The rusty surface was full of a vile acidity. A wave surged up from his stomach instantly. He forced back the bile and stomach acid that reached his throat. He grimaced, but continued. It wasn’t over yet.
As he brought his tongue to the surface a second time, ION’s voice echoed again:
“You must lick harder. And keep your tongue on the surface if possible.”
Raven paused. His brow furrowed. Sparks of fury lit up in his eyes.
“Tell me the truth—are you enjoying this?”
“No. Please continue.”
Raven rolled his eyes. “God… What kind of hell am I in…” he muttered. He gritted his teeth and continued. This time, he pressed his tongue down with more resolve. The metal left a foul taste in every corner of his mouth. The taste was indescribable—part blood, part expired electrical equipment. So sharp it felt like his tongue was burning.
Time had stopped. Rust on his tongue, cramps in his gut, and a rising nausea in his mind. Not just his mouth now, but his stomach ached too. Empty and hungry, his body didn’t want to endure this filth any longer. But he did what ION said. To the end.
And finally…
“The Myralite source is depleted, Raven. You may stop.”
Those words were a decree of salvation. Without thinking, Raven hurled the battery. The piece of metal vanished off the edge of the roof with a faint clang.
“All nanites will now engage in new nanite production, so I will not be able to communicate with you for a while.” said ION.
“There is no one in the building we’re on. You’ll be safe here.”
Raven slowly turned his head toward the roof door. A dusty, rusted metal door. It wasn’t locked. He paused before reaching out.
“Hey…” he hissed through his teeth.
“If all the nanites go into production… Who the hell’s gonna fix me? My arm still hurts—at least kill the pain so I can sleep…”
ION replied with a single sentence:
“Don’t worry. Treatment will continue. I’ll relieve the pain once you’re in a safe location. Now please, enter the building.”
Raven didn’t say a word. He didn’t have the strength to argue anymore. His body was in revolt. He stood at the edge of the rooftop for a while, grinding his teeth to get rid of the metallic taste in his mouth. Then he spat harshly onto the ground, his lips curled in disgust.
The door creaked open, revealing a dark stairwell. Dusty air, silence, and rotting walls… But at least he didn’t have to run anymore.
At least… for now.
ION // SYSTEM FEEDBACK — [Session: 006 | Operator: Raven Karr]
Interface: ION_v4.6.1_β // Connection Stable [?]
[?] [MRS-09] Molecular Restoration System
- Operational Efficiency: 9.2%
- 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
[?] [MSS-14] Multi-Spectrum Scanning System
- Operational Efficiency: 11.1%
- Primary Function:
→ Detects Myralite density fluctuations
→ Identifies biological threats and contaminants
→ Locates electronic traps and signal irregularities
- Critical Limitation:
→ Available Maximum range: 1 km
→ Operates at 4.3% efficiency in passive scan mode
[?] [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)
[?] [MAP-08] Myralite Purification Protocol
- Operational Efficiency: 8.7%
- Primary Function:
→ Purifies unstable or contaminated Myralite compounds for safe energy conversion and modular integration
→ Applies targeted thermal and molecular realignment to restore crystalline integrity
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:
? Not garbage anymore. (“Borrowed” from a couple of street punks—synthetic leather streetwear. Style? Questionable. Protection? Even more so. But hey, at least it’s not patched.)
→ Weapon:
? Left Hook of God? (Cool, huh?)
? Combat Knife [Model: M-12] (Worn grip. Still cuts like betrayal.)
? Combat Gloves (ION did something techy. The glove is fucking lightning now, man!)
→ Additions:
? Bad vibes (Persistent)
? Stolen e-Wallet – Balance : 3588 (Yeah, I know, he's a thief.)
? Bottled Rations (Technically food. Realistically? Packaged vomit with a label.)
? VX-21 Commlink (Last missed call: Still none.)
? Stylish Black Bag (It's absolutely cursed)