Marla remained on all fours, her body heaving. Slick sweat—part oil, part discharge—dripped from her ample-bosoms and pooled on the polished floor. The world was a dizzying mosaic of blue crystal light and the retreating forms of Ash and her 'guests.' The vipers on her head slowly recoiled, their frantic panting subsiding into a shaky stillness.
Hatred. It was the sharpest, cleanest emotion, like a freshly drawn blade. She hated Ash for the humiliation, for that soul crushing feeling of being a withred husk totally at his mercy, and for the agonizing, perverse control of the control rod.
Yet, a profound, sickening warmth pulsed deep within her pelvis, radiating outward from where the violet crystal had been pressed. It was the crushing pleasure, a physical memory that short-circuited every defensive circuit in her mind. Her resentment now had a soft, corrupted edge, a terrifying ambiguity that made her skin crawl.
''Master Ash.''
The title felt like a violation, and yet saying it made her heart flutter with a strange, guilty release.
In the confusion, a slow, insidious change began. Deep inside her skull, near the brainstem, something was coalescing. It didn't hurt; it simply formed. A cold, crystalline mass, no bigger than a pearl, began to grow—a node of obedience. It was the true, final implant from her capture and bonding, now energized and activated by the intense power transfer of the 'training session.' It hummed, linking her mind not just to the threat of pain, but to the promise of that paralyzing pleasure, forever binding her to Ash's will.
She raised her head, the last vestige of her independent fury warring with the burgeoning, terrifying loyalty. She was a weapon now, a guardian, reduced to a trembling, compliant pet. Marla watched them disappear, her new reality a terrifying blend of rage and desire. I led Mothman and Syn deeper, setting a brisk, focused pace. We passed through a final, narrow section of the tunnel—the so-called throat-shaped corridor—that opened immediately into the pulsating heart of my territory.
This was the Forge Room, the central workshop and engine of the Gutter Nest. It was a mesmerizing, chaotic space that was part laboratory, part ritual altar, and part armory. The atmosphere here was thick with ozone, heat, and the faint, sweet metallic tang of bio-materials.
In one corner, a vein-fed crucible pulsed, the molten material within shifting with an organic light. Nearby, a low, guttural chittering came from the living anvil, a grotesque mass of hardened bio-tissue waiting for commands. Bone-tool racks—made of smoothed, scavenged femurs and ribs—hung on taught tension wire, ready for use.
Suspended above a sprawling, illuminated console, a massive AI-organ hummed. It hung from thick veinglass cables, its many, lidless eyes blinking to life as we entered. This was Aegis 7, the control center and informational hub of the Nest.
Beside the glowing crucible, focused intently on her work, was Felicity. She was just finishing a crafting cycle, her hands coated in a resinous material. She looked up cheerfully at our party, greeting us with a wide, effortless fanged smile and eyes that were too large and too bright.
"We just finished a fresh batch of nutrient packs," I explained to my guests. "Felicity runs the shop. Don't worry, she's a friendly succubus."
Mothman's sonic blades remained half-drawn, his gaze sweeping the room, registering every living, pulsing, or humming piece of technology with visible tension. Syn, however, seemed to have finally set aside her mini-TV, her eyes wide with a scientist's stunned fascination.
"This technology of the ancients!" Syn murmured, stepping closer to the nearest pulsing vein-glass support. "It's all one connected biological and technological system."
"Welcome to the workshop," I replied. "Now that the tour is over, let's talk about that promise of answers." I turned to Doctor Syn. "Doctor Syn, youre first. What's CENO after, and whats a Xun'dral unit?"
Doctor Syn inhaled sharply, her attention still divided between the pulsating, organic architecture of the Forge Room and the imposing, multi-eyed AI-organ suspended above the console. Her scientific awe warred with the need for immediate explanation.
"I don't know much about CENO," Doctor Syn admitted, her voice tight but precise. "They're a privately owned group, and no one even knows who the owner is. All I know is that one day I was approached by a woman named Mya Tarq. She had read several papers I'd published and was interested in my work. She offered me a position at CENO, and with it, unlimited funding."
She finally looked away from the humming Aegis 7 and directly at me.
"I used that funding for several different projects. One of them being the development of the Herja Large Language Model." Syn paused, her eyes glazing over with a painful, distant memory.
"I grew it from my deceased daughter's brain tissue. Her biological remains were consumed by Element-X, which somehow resurrected my daughter within the crystal itself. She is the only reason I am here. after the event, CENO wanted to study and isolate the effects of element-x on brain tissue and replication. I was just glad to have my daughter back."
Doctor Syn walked up and hug me tightly for a brief moment, weeping quietly in my neck. Then she let go and stood back. "As for the Xun'dral unit," Syn said, eyeing the armored figure standing nearby, "They appear to be some kind of bio-boosting armor. I found the first one on a derelict alien spacecraft at a CENO excavation site in the Amazon forest. Since that time, two other Xun'dral units have been recovered. That's about all I can offer."
The tense atmosphere, thick with talk of alien tech, resurrected daughters, and corporate espionage, was abruptly shattered.
"Okay," Mothman's voice crackled through his helmet speakers, his tone utterly serious and entirely mundane. "But how do I get it off? I gotta pee!"
The absurdity hung in the air, a bizarre counterpoint to the pulsating bio-technology of the Forge. I stared at him, my tiger stripes catching the light.
"You're telling me," I said flatly, gesturing to the armor that had just shredded a platoon of blaze-sting Scorponoks, "You survived a massive fight, and an unplanned insertion into the deepest part of the Gutter, and your most pressing concern right now is bladder relief?"
Syn, momentarily speechless, covered her mouth to stifle a laugh that was half-hysterics. Even Felicity at the crucible paused her work, her fanged smile widening in amusement.
"The suit is self-sustaining, right?" I asked Syn, ignoring Mothman's heavy, frustrated sigh. "Does it have a waste reclamation system?"
Syn shook her head, still chuckling. "The armor is alien, Ash. I only studied the bio-enhancement capabilities. I have no schematics for the life support. CENO just sticks pilots in and tells them to push buttons."
I turned back to the towering unit. "Well, Mothman. Seems like that's a question for later.
I pointed to a reinforced steel workbench near the living anvil. "Sit. And stop squirming. We have work to do.
I let out a slow sigh, stepping away from Mothman. The Xun'dral Unit was a military liability and a bladder crisis all wrapped in one heavy package. I needed data, and I knew exactly where to get it.
"Herja," I commanded, looking towards the suspended AI-organ, Aegis 7. "Run a full diagnostic scan on the Xun'dral Unit. Access Aegis 7's core library for any matching energy signatures or technological blueprints."
A moment of silent processing followed, marked only by the low hum of the massive AI. Then, a distinct, melodic voice—sharp and clear, like wind chimes played over a static channel—spoke, not through the speakers, but directly into my mind by Herja.
"System: Scan Initiated. Accessing Aegis 7 Database."
Before I could react to Herjas voice, a sudden burst of holographic information flooded my vision—a clean, white menu overlaid on the chaotic reality of the Forge Room. It was a perfectly rendered diagnostic window, complete with scrolling alien script, energy readings, and a dynamic wireframe model of Mothman's suit. Herja was no longer just an abstract model; she was a System, a voice, and a highly intrusive interface.
"That's new," I muttered, shaking my head.
Herja spoke again, "Analysis Complete. The unit is designated 'Xun'dral Bio-Lattice, Model 1.4.' It is not conventionally sealed. Its operation is governed by the psycho-kinetic bond between the host and the armor. Access and egress are controlled solely by the host's focus of intent".
I turned back to Mothman, who was still shifting uncomfortably. "Did you hear that? Herja says the armor operates on intent. No latches, no buttons, no release valve."
Mothman tilted his helmet, the visor reflecting the blue crystal light. "Intent? Like... thinking about it?"
"More than thinking," I corrected, recalling fragmented clan lore about ancient bio-tech. "You have to be singular in your will. You have to want it."
Mothman nodded.
"Alright. Here's what you're going to do," I said, my voice dropping to a low, instructional tone. "Clear your mind of the chase, of the fight, and of your current... physiological discomfort. Focus on a single, clean thought: release."
I stepped closer, the blue light catching my tiger-stripe markings. "When you feel ready, you need to let your intent flow, not fight, but flow into the armor. Let it know, absolutely and without doubt, that it is time to be free." I paused, waiting for him to focus. "When you're ready, let it go."
Mothman drew a slow, deliberate breath, the mechanical hiss of the suit's environmental seal the only sound in the vast forge. He stood perfectly still for a moment, the tension in his rigid posture easing as he followed my instruction.
Then, with a voice that was low but clear, he uttered the single word: "Release."
The effect was instantaneous and utterly startling. The heavy, black armor didn't unlatch or fall away; it began to un-become. Starting at the joints and seams, the metal and composite panels seemed to thin, blurring at the edges. The material didn't rustle or clang; it peeled back from his flesh, seemingly evaporating into the air with a soft, organic shimmer, like static dissolving.
In seconds, the towering Xun'dral Unit was gone. Where a sleek, menacing suit of alien armor had stood, there was now a man—thin, pale, and blinking rapidly in the blue glow of the Magnetic Garden.
He was wearing simple, civilian clothing underneath, baggy cargo shorts and hoodie, he was also wearing a pair of roller blades. His face, freed from the helmet, was sharp-featured and young, framed by short, dark hair. He looked deeply exhausted, his eyes wide and disoriented." Thanks mate!" he gasped as he took in a breath of gutter air.
He took another deep, shaky breath, this one unfiltered. "Thank you," he managed, rubbing the back of his neck, before his expression changed to one of acute relief. He cast a frantic look towards the exit tunnel.
I didn't wait. "Go," I said, pointing towards the shadowy back passage past the bone-tool racks. "There's a utility closet and a drain down that service line."
Mothman didn't need telling twice. He glided off on his skates, finally free to address his primary concern.
I watched Mothman disappear into the service passage, then turned to Syn, a thoughtful look on my face. "An armor that operates on focused will and vanishes at a spoken command. They don't just want the tech, Syn, they want to reproduce it. That's what they're truly after, isn't it?"
Syn nodded, her expression grim. "Yes. The material science of element-X is second to none. It has a natural psychokinetic interface. CENO believes Element-X may hold the secret to replicating a Xun'dral units unique properties."
My interest immediately piqued. "You said that Element-X merged with Herja, and resurrected her consciousness within the AI. What is Element-X?"
Syn shook her head, running a nervous hand through her hair. "I was still working on that when everything went crazy," she said. "I can't tell you what it is. It defies all known parameters—it's not carbon based. It's a completely unclassified substance. However it's molecular structure is similar to silicone quartz."
She looked up at me, the blue light of the Forge Room reflecting in her eyes. "But I can tell you where it is. The largest known deposit, and CENO's entire primary research focus, is located at CENO Black Site Onyx."
I crossed my arms, the name echoing in the cavernous space. "Onyx. A mining operation? A facility?"
"It's a containment facility," Syn clarified. "A massive underground complex built into a geological anomaly. That's where they're performing all the live augmentation trials, the Herja research, and the material analysis on the Xun'dral armor. It's their most protected and most vital location."
I frowned, considering the risk. "And why are you so sure we need to go there?"
She then gestured toward the massive, pulsing AI-organ overhead. " With the processing power of your Aegis 7, we may be able to finally learn something about Element-X—if we can bring back a viable sample and analyze it here. Your Forge Room is the only lab capable of handling it."
I stroked my chin, the blue light catching the ridges of my tiger stripes. "You're asking me to launch an attack on CENO's most protected black site, Dr. Syn. That kind of heat doesn't just dissipate when the job is done. It lands squarely on my doorstep, on the Gutter Nest. Every service has a price. What, exactly, are you offering me in return for taking on the entire CENO organization?"
Syn's eyes met mine, her voice resolute. "I am offering you the complete, unrestricted technical knowledge of the Xun'dral armor, and the Element-X data. You've seen what that armor can do; think what your own forge could create with its blueprints. You'll be able to reproduce a technology that could turn your people into unstoppable assets. I am offering you mastery over the next generation of enhancement technology."
I stood straighter, the proposal ringing in the air. The armor, the Element-X, it was the score of a lifetime, a game-changer for my entire operation. I grinned wide, a genuine, sharp-toothed expression that promised violence and profit. With forty-eight hours to spare until the 'Lunar Cry'—I knew what my next mission was.
"Consider it done, Doctor Syn," I stated, the decision final. "We're going to raid Black Site Onyx."