Obscura #1: Awakening

THREE

>Scarab Hideout

>Southern Wasteland (Population–0)

>Lycan Federation

Mori's eyelids fluttered open, uncovering the startled green eyes underneath. The cyborg blinked away the black splotches dancing around in his vision, the corroded room slowly coming into view. The sun rays sent sharp pin-pricks and needles into the cyborg's eyes. He lay crumpled in the corner where Darkborn had booted his head, a metal rod digging into his back. The cyborg looked around, confused.

"Mori, can you hear me?" Sam screamed in his ear.

Mori felt as though hot soup had been spilled on his brain. His heart was racing around in his chest. Thoughts were spinning out of control. Warped conversations and faces rose to the surface of his mind then vanished in a decomposing puff of binary. Mori could feel, shock ricocheted through him.

"I can hear you, Sam. Please stop screaming," the cyborg pleaded, staggering up as aches lanced his brain. What? His attention shifted to the racket being caused by the bound Echelon who moaned and thrashed wildly. Where was he? Little motes of spores floated around what appeared to still be the decaying factory.

"Listen, Mori, something knocked you out inside that bloody factory. Your Neuro-Platform is on the fritz...get the Echelon and get the hell out of there, Mori. A missile is fifty seconds away from your location. Fifty seconds."

"The Scarabs got away," Mori pointed out, still in a daze. Memories of the day started to trickle back. He was still looking around, befuddled. His eyes shifted to his LaserGuns lying near the collapsed metal door amid scraps of rusted metal and dirt. What happened here?

"Forget the Scarabs, you have to get out of there now! Look out through the damn hole in the wall, dude."

The cyborg's brain warily snapped to focus. Did he say missile? He turned toward the jagged crevice in the wall, his eyes—blinded for a second by the brightness outside the factory—took a moment to adjust to the light. The G.I. highlighted a beige missile whooshing toward the factory in a burning red blurb. The cyborg reeled back in fear, scattering metal rods. Fear? What is happening to me? The sudden strong emotion was so foreign that he stood there, confused, as an array of sensations bloomed and faded in his chest. The cyborg was dimly aware of Sam and the Echelon screaming in the background.

"Thirty seconds, Mori, what the fuck are you doing just standing there like a fool? Move it, soldier!"

The cyborg brought his mind back to the present, processing the situation a little slower than usual. "Sorry, something is up with my Neuro-Platform." Sorry? Mori never apologises.

"No shit. Get the fuck out of there!" Sam's voice was high pitched now.

The cyborg nodded sharply. He jumped into motion, allowing his muscles to do the thinking. Mori unsheathed a violet plasma-sword, searing off the Echelon's bonds as his mind worked on a plan to get them both out of the factory, and quick.

They couldn't take the stairs, too long—the missile would hit before they made it halfway down. How then? The cyborg spared a glance at the jagged crevice in the wall, red dust was billowing around outside. The exit strategy was obvious to Mori. Dangerous for the Echelon, but obvious to the cyborg.

"Get me out of here," the Echelon snapped, glancing at the now closer missile. "Now!"

"Move, Mori," Sam commanded.