022. A Lone Wolf

Behind a heap of foul-smelling, rusted metal, Andrei lay flat against the ground, clutching a firearm that resembled an UZI. His breaths were labored and ragged, chest rising and falling in desperate gasps. The once sleek and composed man was now disheveled and dirty, his usual sharpness dulled by the grime and tension of the moment.
When Konstantin’s message came through, the words global alert flashed across the screen like a warning beacon. Andrei’s gut tightened. Miss X’s point zero was in his territory—a detail he couldn’t ignore. He’d spent years building his reputation, and now, with the EPCU breathing down his neck, he felt the burden of responsibility more than ever.
Andrei wasn’t just another player in the OCK; he was a key figure at the heart of the European EPCU. The incidents involving Miss X and Sergei had left a dark stain on his record, one that festered with every whispered doubt about his leadership. The thought of his name being tarnished gnawed at him, fueling a resolve that hardened into something steely. He couldn’t afford to let this spiral any further.
The first sign of trouble had been the disappearance of the carcass—the creature that had attacked Sergei, vanishing without a trace. It was more than just an anomaly; it was a signal. Andrei had sensed it then, a prickling unease that told him this was far from over. He had expected there might be more—one or two, perhaps—but when nine of them appeared, materializing out of the shadows like predators on the hunt, his breath caught in his throat. They moved with an eerie coordination, sweeping through the area as if driven by a singular, vengeful purpose.
Andrei’s mind raced. This wasn’t just a random attack—it was retribution. And now, with the weight of everything on his shoulders, he had no choice but to confront it head-on. The stakes had never been higher.
Andrei placed his gun on the ground, knowing all too well that bullets were useless against these beings. With a resigned calm, he reached behind his waist and drew a gleaming black machete, its edge sharp and deadly. The weapon felt reassuring in his grip, a last line of defense against the impending threat.
He pressed his back against the pile of rusted metal, the cold surface biting through his clothes, and carefully peeked out from his cover. Every muscle tensed, and his senses sharpened, as he scanned the shadows for any sign of movement.
There they were—abominations, a nightmarish fusion of decaying flesh and cold metal. Robotic humanoid zombies. Andrei’s heart pounded as he observed them, each one a grotesque mockery of life. Unlike Miss X, who had appeared perfectly human, these creatures were horrifyingly crude and incomplete, as if cobbled together from the remnants of something that had never been meant to exist.
Their skeletal frames were forged from blackened metal, twisted and jagged, with exposed gears and wires visible through torn patches of artificial skin. The flesh that clung to their bodies looked diseased and decayed, mismatched and stitched together with crude seams that oozed a dark, viscous fluid. Some of the beings had disturbingly human-like faces, but the flesh was pallid and stretched too tightly over their metal skulls, making their expressions grotesque and unnatural.
Others bore grinning skeletal heads, their metallic jaws twisted into perpetual snarls, with exposed teeth that gleamed like rusted knives. Their eye sockets, deep and hollow, glowed with a dim, ominous red light, flickering as if on the verge of dying out. The unsettling contrast between their human and mechanical parts made them even more terrifying—an abomination of mismatched anatomy and eerie, artificial life.
Andrei counted them, his eyes narrowing as he tallied their grotesque forms—one, two, three... eight. He counted again, his breath quickening, but the ninth was nowhere to be found.
Suddenly, the pile of rusted metal planks behind him collapsed with a deafening crash. If his reflexes hadn’t been razor-sharp, he would have been crushed beneath the weight. He barely managed to dive out of the way, his heart pounding in his chest.
But the noise had drawn the others. The remaining eight grotesque figures whipped around, their dimly glowing eyes locking onto Andrei. In unison, they charged, their mechanical limbs clanking and whirring with eerie precision.
There was no time to think. Andrei swung his machete in a swift, practiced arc, the blade slicing cleanly through the closest figure’s robotic arm. The severed limb clattered to the ground, but the creature didn’t even flinch, its cold, unfeeling eyes fixed on him.
Andrei took a few steps back, his mind racing. Every member of the EPCU task force knew the only way to kill an immortal was through decapitation, but he had hoped, perhaps irrationally, that the creature might show some sign of pain, some hint of vulnerability to force a way for negotiation. But there was nothing—no reaction, no hesitation.
Despite his age, Andrei moved with remarkable speed and agility. With a swift dodge, he evaded the creature’s attack and, in one fluid motion, sliced clean through its neck. The head toppled to the ground, its dim red eyes flickering out as the mechanical body collapsed in a heap.
But the victory was fleeting. The other abominations quickly joined the fray, their grotesque forms surging toward him with unnerving precision. Andrei was outnumbered, surrounded by the relentless horde. They moved with a speed that matched his own, their mechanical limbs a blur of motion.
As the fight wore on, time began to betray him. The difference between a human and these beings of unknown origin became painfully clear. While the creatures remained as tireless and unyielding as ever, Andrei's movements began to slow, the toll of exertion weighing heavily on his aging body.
He fought valiantly, each strike of his machete precise and deadly, but the relentless assault was beginning to wear him down. His breath came in ragged gasps, and his once-fluid motions grew heavier, more labored. The creatures sensed his weakening state, their cold, mechanical eyes locked onto him with a predatory focus.