The dim light from the consoles cast flickering shadows across the chamber as the figure in the throne-like structure slowly lifted its head. Its glowing, artificial eyes locked onto John, then swept across the rest of the team.


    "…You are intruders."


    John tightened his grip on his weapon, his pulse quickening. "Yeah, we get that. But technically, this place was abandoned, so maybe we just count as trespassers?"


    The figure didn’t seem amused. Cables and tendrils twitched around it, pulsating with faint energy.


    "You should not be here," it repeated, its voice distorting into something unnatural. "You are not… them."


    "Alright," John said, forcing himself to stay calm. "Who are they, exactly?"


    The thing’s expression barely shifted, but John could feel something shifting in the air—an unseen pressure, as if the entire station itself was reacting to their presence.


    Vrixibalt stepped forward cautiously, datapad in hand. "This station… it belonged to a lost research division, didn’t it? One that never reported back?"


    The figure’s head tilted, the artificial light in its eyes flickering.


    "We were left behind."


    The words hung heavy in the air.


    Zylen glanced at Vrixibalt. "I take it you know what they’re talking about?"


    Vrixibalt hesitated, his antennae lowering. "There were rumors of… experimental outposts. Places where researchers went beyond ethical boundaries. But they weren’t confirmed—nothing in the official records ever stated what happened to them."


    John swore under his breath. "So we just walked into a real-life horror story."


    The figure’s body jerked suddenly, spasming as if it were fighting itself. The cables embedded in its flesh pulsed, and the walls trembled again.


    "…They built us. But we were not perfect."


    Its eyes flickered again, and for a split second, John thought he saw something—someone—behind the cold, mechanical glow. A real, thinking person trapped in a body that no longer belonged to them.


    And then the thing screamed.


    The Attack Begins


    The scream wasn’t just a sound—it was a command.


    The room came alive.


    The walls split open, releasing mechanical constructs—some humanoid, others insectoid, all of them covered in the same grotesque blend of organic flesh and metal plating. Their eyes flared with the same eerie glow, and they charged.


    "Contact!" Ka’rak bellowed, raising his weapon and firing the first shot.


    The plasma blast tore through the nearest construct, sending it staggering back—but not stopping it. The thing’s flesh sizzled, its metal plating glowing red-hot… and then, horrifyingly, it repaired itself.


    "Are you kidding me?!" John shouted, opening fire.


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Zylen moved like a ghost, his precision shots aiming for the joints—disabling rather than destroying. He took out two of them before another construct lunged at him, forcing him to flip backwards to avoid a swipe from a clawed metal arm.


    Ka’rak, on the other hand, didn’t dodge. He met the largest construct head-on, crashing into it with sheer brute strength. The impact sent both of them slamming into the floor, where Ka’rak used his armored fists to pummel the thing into submission.


    John was too busy dodging a bladed limb aimed for his chest to admire the carnage.


    The construct attacking him was fast—too fast. He barely managed to sidestep as it lunged again, its blade scraping against his shoulder armor.


    "Vrixibalt, any ideas?!" John shouted.


    The scientist was moving frantically, scanning the room. "They’re integrated into the station’s mainframe! The entire system is… a neural network. If we don’t sever their link, they’ll keep adapting!"


    John ducked as another strike came dangerously close to taking his head off. "Yeah, great! And how do we do that?!"


    Vrixibalt’s mandibles clicked as he processed the data. Then he pointed to the throne. "The central node! If we disable it, we cut off their ability to self-repair!"


    John gritted his teeth. "Of course it''s the creepy chair. Why wouldn''t it be the creepy chair?"


    Breaking the Connection


    "Cover me!" John shouted, making a mad dash toward the throne.


    Ka’rak, Zylen, and Ryiq immediately shifted their focus, laying down suppressing fire. Constructs fell, some twitching violently as they struggled to regain control.


    But the figure in the chair had other plans.


    Its arm snapped forward, and suddenly tendrils of energy shot out—grabbing John mid-stride.


    His vision blurred as a surge of information flooded his mind.


    Suddenly, he wasn’t in the room anymore.


    He was somewhere else.


    Flashes of memory—of pain, of bodies being altered, of voices screaming to be freed.


    He saw dozens—hundreds—of test subjects, their minds linked, their bodies reshaped against their will.


    And in the middle of it all…


    The figure.


    They weren’t always like this. They were a scientist once. A researcher who had been betrayed by their own people, forced to become the very thing they had been studying.


    John felt their rage. Their desperation.


    They weren’t controlling the station.


    The station was controlling them.


    "—John!"


    A voice yanked him back to reality.


    He snapped out of it, gasping.


    Ka’rak had barreled into the throne, breaking the tendrils holding him.


    John stumbled, shaking off the lingering disorientation. "That was not fun."


    Vrixibalt was already at the controls. "This entire system is wired to a failsafe! If I can disable it—"


    The figure let out a shriek, their body convulsing. The station trembled as if in protest.


    John clenched his jaw. He didn’t know if what he saw was real or just some kind of psychic backlash.


    But he did know one thing:


    The person trapped in that body was suffering.


    He raised his weapon, aiming for the interface cables running along the figure’s spine.


    Vrixibalt’s eyes widened. "Wait—!"


    John pulled the trigger.


    The energy shot severed the cables.


    The reaction was instantaneous.


    The constructs collapsed, their bodies going limp as the connection was severed. The entire room dimmed, the glowing panels flickering erratically.


    The figure in the throne let out a final, shuddering breath…


    And then they went still.


    Aftermath


    For a long moment, no one spoke.


    Then the station’s AI voice crackled to life, its tone fragmented and weak.


    <blockquote>


    “Core link… severed. Emergency protocols… shutting down.”


    </blockquote>


    John exhaled heavily, lowering his weapon.


    Ka’rak stepped forward, nudging one of the now-inert constructs with his foot. "Are we sure they’re not getting back up?"


    Vrixibalt checked his datapad. "The system’s completely offline. They’re… gone."


    John stared at the lifeless figure in the throne. He didn’t know if he had saved them or just put them out of their misery.


    He wasn’t sure which was better.


    Zylen crossed his arms. "So… was this place abandoned? Or was it just forgotten?"


    John shook his head. "I don’t think it matters anymore."


    With that, he turned toward the exit. "Let’s get the hell out of here."