Crosby marches into the elevator and ascends towards the virtual reality bays. At the same time, the engine of John's MeKSUT starts whirring in the distance.

  The elevator door opens at the top. He pushes his absent-minded coworkers out of the way as he exits. They're only a short walk away now, and so he irons out the rest of his plan.

  He's going to distract the guy with golden eyes until he sees John turn up. Then, he's going to run away as quickly as possible to find his five other co-workers he's been in talks with for the plan they’ve been cooking up. Then, he's going to come back to John and follow him to their escape. In that order… Hopefully.

  His tattered work boots slam against the catwalk grating as he moves closer. The bay becomes visible, a sore-thumb of a man with it. One wearing a slick suit, an olden hat and has… golden eyes.

  This is his man.

  “Hey! Hey you!” He yells, grabbing his attention. “You shouldn't be here! What the Hell are you doing without proper protection?!”

  Crosby approaches the man, coming off as confrontational and bombastic as he can. The man looks at him and replies. “I believe you are misunderstanding. I am here to perform an audit on staff performance.”

  Crosby approaches closer, emoting as he speaks.

  “Okay? Cool. But you need proper safety equipment! Do you know how many people die around here?”

  Crosby's eyes dart subtly towards a MeKSUT, which walks through the T-Section they stand above, and beside. Golden-eye gets off the simulator and begins to orbit him as he replies.

  “Why I am. On my way in I noticed the stenches of corpses.”

  Crosby moves to where the man was beside the simulators, trying to get his back to face away from the railing. A warning siren goes off as the T-Section cargo elevator begins its descent.

  Crosby speaks some more. “Yeah! And do you want to know the staff fatality rate after six months of employment?” Crosby asks, raising his voice, keeping the man's attention.

  “Please inform me.” Golden-eye replies.

  “Five! Fucking! Percent!” Crosby yells, approaching even closer. “So I don't care where you come from, I am sick of seeing people die. You need to put some equipment on, now!”

  They close in on each other; the two mere feet away. Crosby tries to read the man's face, not seeing any emotion in particular. He's convinced he has no suspicion, and so he keeps up the act.

  Something huge slowly rises behind the railings.

  “That won't be necessary.” The golden-eyed man replies. “Though your concern is certainly noted. I am actually impressed, you're the first one to notice something was off.”

  A familiar MeKSUT rises higher in the background as Golden-eye speaks. It soon towers over them both, even from the lower level; the elevator having completed its ascent.

  Crosby looks up at it as it begins to raise its forklift hands. He is convinced of what it is, and who it is. And his own plausible deniability. He keeps up the act just long enough before he prepares his dash.

  “Oh… well, it's funny you say tha—” He points his finger up at the suit's arm. “HEY! LOOK OUT!” Crosby jumps to the side as the Golden-eye turns behind.

  Before he can even get a glance, John smashes the MeKSUTs arm against his body like a backhand, sending him flying to the side. Crosby sees the beginning of the commotion as he runs off to alert the others.

  John turns the MeKSUT to face Golden-eye through the cockpit, who rises to meet him eye-to-eye from his position near the top of the catwalk.

  He wipes his face and spits on the ground as he stands tall yet again; his hand hovering over his right hip as a look of excitement reeks across his face. “IT IS A FIGHT THEN! HAHAHA!” He yells like a gladiator.

  John covers the cockpit glass with the suit's left arm, as Golden-eye unleashes a volley of laser glock hellfire into the suit.

  A facility-wide alarm goes off, deafeningly loud and bathing the halls, walls and floors in a deep, urgent red.

  John hears the metal on the outside of his suit boil as the strikes hit again and again, and so he swings wildly into the catwalk.

  Every worker present seems to notice the outside world for once, and they all flee like pigs. John slams his arm underneath the catwalk where he thinks the man stands, making it buckle more and more with each hit. John can't see much through his other arm, and so he tracks the sound of the gunfire to guard his face and his back.

  Finally, John gets lucky and lands a massive uppercut underneath the catwalk supports, causing it to shatter and the gunfire to stop while it crumbles into the floor below.

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  The suit was holding up well, having no warnings of its own to give. John lowers his arm to see the damage, spotting Golden-eye getting up off the remaining catwalk debris. He must be a quick son-of-a bitch.

  His eyes lock onto John's, who throws his arm in the way of his cockpit to block the quick-draw. But the burst was brief, giving way to sprinted footsteps rushing away.

  He looks through the claw of the suit to see the man is retreating down the hall. Oh, how the turns have tabled. John wrestles the MeKSUT to give chase— the thing must've never run this fast in its life.

  Its feet slammed against the metal floor, each step sounding like an explosion, leaving unfixable dents in the ground from the sheer speed.

  Golden-eye turns a corner, pursued closely by John in his massive MeKSUT, who chases after him like a predator. Golden-eye fires behind him, but is blocked by John yet again. Either that, or the shots miss. He can’t tell.

  “Warning. Warning.” The machine alarms. “Excess fuel use detected. Practice efficient usage.” John barely acknowledges the warning, too caught up in the present.

  Golden-eye finds a vent and shoves himself inside. The hallways are devoid of life as everyone else cowers away as the sirens still scream. John looks around with his suit, his senses on fire like a rocket, working overtime. He's never felt such a rush before— never felt so alive.

  He paces the suit back to the elevator, awaiting a surprise strike from his assailant. A minute passes by. And then another one. Some security bots come to the scene but they are powerless to stop him.

  John is on edge, analyzing every creek and every sound and every single detail he hears. Suddenly, the crack of a volley of laser fire comes from behind and above. He swings immediately into the thin, tinny roof.

  The MeKSUTs arm crashes through it like paper, and the fire stops as the man crashes down from the ceiling onto his back.

  He appears to have something new strapped across it.

  John notices the MeKSUT is slowing down, a warning lighting coming up about how some pneumatic pressure is being lost. It does not stop him from striking at the floor, barely missing Golden-eye as he rolls aside. He stomps closer, slamming again, still missing.

  Golden-eye tries to get up again, but John kicks him with the MeKSUT, sending him flying and tumbling across the T-Section floor.

  John approaches to land the final blow, but the MeKSUT keeps slowing down with every step.

  The motor starts knocking bad, the pressure generator gives up. But he is oh so close to finishing him off. Until the man reaches for the pipe across his back. A huge pipe. One he begins aiming at the cockpit.

  John won't make it, and so he desperately tries to cover the cockpit yet again. A deafening screech rings out, followed instantly by a blinding light and complete deafness. John lies thoughtless for a moment. His body, filled with whiplash and tinnitus.

  As he slowly regains his vision, he sees the cockpit glass completely shattered. Controls are unresponsive, sparking flying from every wire exposed.

  He stares up towards the ceiling, his suit collapsed and in ruin from whatever strike came from the golden-eyed assailant.

  Soon, his vision betrays him, and confirms Golden-eye slowly approaching the cockpit. He stumbles, slowly. Clearly having broken a few things from being kicked around so much.

  His black suit absorbs all light, but his skin glows red from the barrel light of his laser glock. He slowly draws it towards John, dragging out every moment as if it was a soap opera.

  “Nice try.” The man comments, racking the slide on his pistol with a genuinely amused smile on his face. He raises his pistol to aim square between the eyes of John, who looks up hopelessly.

  Hopelessly… and yet content. For at least Crosby may carry his legacy. Perhaps even, he could inspire others.

  The muzzle steams red hot, and the man’s eyes beam down upon him. He is thoroughly impressed with John it seems. And so he asks John one last question. “Haa— Haa… Any last wor—”

  Crosby smashes him on the back of the head with a lead pipe, making his body fall down limp. John looks up to Crosby, seeing God.

  “This must be what that God guy looks like.” He thinks.

  “Need a hand?” Crosby asks, extending his hand for John. John says nothing, reaching up to take it. He stands tall, at least somewhat. He can't do it without needing support. Crosby slings his arm over his shoulder. “I’ve got you brother.” He says. “So where's our escape ride?”

  “In— in the—” John gets out breathlessly.

  “In the fuck— in the parking lot.”

  Crosby crouches down to loot the man's laser glock. He also steals his hat and puts it on. The hat has a major dent in it, and is slightly bloody.

  “You lead the way. I'll help carry you.” Crosby says.

  They begin walking, or for John, more like stumbling; he turns back towards the destroyed MeKSUT. “Aren't you gonna— fuck… Aren't you gonna kill him?”

  “I smashed the back of his head with a lead pipe.” Crosby answers. “His brain is as good as cat food now.” The place feels like a ghost town as they escape into the uncleanly rain. The few staff they saw along the way just wandered vacantly. The security droids seem to totally give up by this point, despite the droning alarms.

  John points to the vehicle he had used to arrive. He walks to the driver seat on his own strength the rest of the way, and Crosby enters into the passenger seat. “We have to stop in Centennial on the way to our destination. We'll have to swap fuel canisters there too, but other than that, we're home free.”

  “Then what are you waiting for?!” Crosby asks. “Light this bitch up and get her moving!” The engine roars to life as do the lights and window wipers. John dumps the clutch and floors it, leaving a huge skid-mark from the thick rubber of its all-terrain tires; their last mark on this foreboding facility.

  The unnatural hazes of this place retreats into the distance. As they make it to the bottom of the mountain, any hope of something pursuing them is all but lost. Victory.