I've never been to the ballet.
But I imagine it's elegant. Graceful. Precise.
What we did next?
Not even close.
This was chaos in motion.
A bullet ballet—choreographed by rage and led by a decaying corpse with attitude issues.
Spoiler: I'm the corpse.
The chrome-skulled "cleaners" moved like machines.
Because they were machines.
Augmented flesh with zero soul.
Swords that vibrated at frequencies capable of cutting steel.
And eyes that glowed like devil flashlights.
"Engaging Subject Zero," one of them said.
I didn't let him finish the sentence.
I jumped.
My fist landed on his faceplate, cracking it like sugar glass.
His skull snapped back.
I kicked his knee inward, spun, and used his own blade to impale his synthetic guts.
He sparked. Twitched. Collapsed.
One down.
Theo ducked and rolled like some kind of nerdy ninja, firing steel bolts and shouting obscure hacker terms.
"Redirecting signal ports! Spoofing their comms!"
"English, Theo!"
"I'm making their ears lie to them!"
"…Sure."
Victor leapt onto a cleaner's helmet and gnawed straight through the optic cord.
The cleaner screamed—mechanical, high-pitched.
Victor detonated his rat-bomb on its chest.
Two down.
But they kept coming.
Five more.
One caught me in the ribs with his blade—sliced clean through.
No pain.
Just fire and instinct.
I headbutted him.
Grabbed his blade mid-swing, ignoring how it cooked my skin, and shoved it through his own chest.
Three.
I was bleeding black again.
Theo screamed.
One of the cleaners grabbed him by the throat, lifting him off the ground.
I moved.
Too slow.
Then suddenly—BOOM.
The cleaner's head exploded.
I turned.
Someone stood behind the smoke.
A figure in a tattered cloak, holding a sniper rifle made of bone and wires.
The figure stepped forward.
She wore a cracked gas mask, but her voice was smooth. Confident.
"You don't know me yet, Zombie boy," she said.
"But I've been watching."
"…Creepy."
She smirked. "Name's Nyx. Welcome to the resistance."
The remaining cleaners paused.
Hesitated.
Then retreated—glitching, flickering like broken projections.
Gone.
Theo fell to the ground, gasping.
Victor high-fived my shin with his tail.
And me?
I looked at the strange girl with the bone rifle and the war-scorched boots.
"What resistance?" I asked.
Nyx took off her mask, revealing one green eye and a long scar that curved like a crescent moon.
"The one built to kill gods," she said.
Then she tossed me something.
A chip. Old tech.
Burned on the side: Project ZANE.
Yeah.
This just got personal.