The single word, “Lyra?”, was barely a breath, choked off by the metallic screech of the Chimera-Bat as it tore a wider gash in the safehouse ceiling. Dust and insulation rained down, stinging Isken’s eyes. The flying monstrosity unfurled leathery wings, spanning the entire room. The rider snarled, a guttural sound utterly devoid of human warmth. Her one corrupted eye fixed on Mireya, glowing with an unnatural, predatory hunger.
“Fennic, get Mireya out of here!” Isken roared, shoving the still-stunned sharpshooter towards the gaping hole in the wall that had been their emergency exit. “Gavril, lay down cover fire!”
“Oh, joyous day, another flying monstrosity!” Gavril’s skeletal jaw clacked, already fumbling with a belt of detonators. “Perhaps I could just *ask* it to leave politely?”
Isken didn’t wait for an answer. He vaulted onto the back of his reanimated hound-hybrid, its massive frame already bristling, hackles of fused bone raising along its spine. “Pale Stalker, secure the target!” he broadcast internally, his mind a sudden, buzzing nexus of intent. “Platoon, suppressive fire! Aim for the wings! No killing blows!”
The Pale Stalker flickered, dissolving through the floorboards to reappear directly behind the winged abomination, a shimmering, translucent silhouette. Its spectral repeater clattered, sending ghostly rounds whistling past the creature’s head. Simultaneously, Isken’s spectral gunners, a phalanx of twenty dual-wielding wraiths, materialized in a semi-circle, their phantom weapons chattering a symphony of death. Muzzle flashes, eerie and green, erupted as they focused their ethereal barrage, not on the rider, but on the delicate, membrane-thin structures of the Bat’s wings. Each hit, though not fatal, tore through the leathery tissue, eliciting enraged shrieks from the beast.
“Isken, what are you doing?!” Mireya yelled over the racket as the mount was shredded. Fennic was already tugging her towards the exit, but she resisted, staring fixedly at the figure above.
“We need her alive, Mireya! The cure!” Isken yelled back, even as the Bat thrashed, its tail, tipped with razor-sharp mineral growths, sweeping through the air. One swipe clipped the edge of the collapsing ceiling, sending a shower of concrete dust over Isken and his four-legged mount. A chunk of masonry slammed into his unprotected back, making him grunt, but he held on, his focus unwavering.
Perched atop the leather-winged terror, the woman extended an arm, one long, obsidian claw glinting in the dim light. A sickly green energy coalesced, crackling with volatile power. It was a charge-up, slow but potent, aimed directly at Mireya. Isken knew that look; that was no ordinary acidic spray. That was full-spectrum disintegration.
“Get down!” Isken shouted, urging his mount forward to block the line of fire. A volley of psychic shrieks slammed into the reanimated beast, the force rippling through woven sinew and jarring Isken's teeth. The blasts were designed to incapacitate, to stun, to leave prey vulnerable.
Just as the woman released her beam, a blur of motion saved Mireya. Fennic, still grappling with her, tripped over a loose spent brass casing, tumbling backwards. The beam, instead of incinerating Mireya, harmlessly scorched the wall behind them. They crashed through a rickety railing, plummeting two stories down the vertical slum, landing in a heap of scrap metal and sparking wires.
The winged beast, blinded by rage and the persistent assault on its pinions, let out another shriek. It dove after them, its massive form surprisingly agile, but its shredded wings struggled for purchase in the confined space. It was a desperate move, a vertical dive-bomb aimed at the falling pair. As it plummeted, its tail whipped wildly, a lethal scythe searching for purchase.
Fennic, still dazed, was trying to untangle himself from Mireya. The Bat’s tail lashed out, a blur of sharpened bone. He saw it coming, too slow to react, but his luck held. The tip of the tail, instead of skewering him, snagged on a thick, exposed conduit of twisted copper wiring that ran down the side of the slum. A jolt of blue lightning erupted, arcing across the beast's chitinous hide. The creature convulsed, a high-pitched wail of agony tearing from its throat as it slammed into the power relay station, a shower of sparks and snapping cables. The impact sent a cascade of short-circuits through the entire level, plunging the immediate vicinity into an even deeper, fog-choked gloom.
With a final shudder, the winged brute crumpled, its wings pinned against the sparking relay. The rider was thrown clear, landing hard on a narrow platform several stories below.
Isken, riding his reanimated hound, jumped down, landing with a heavy thud beside Mireya and Fennic. Gavril, surprisingly effective, had kept a constant stream of detonators raining down, forcing other lurkers to retreat. Mireya scrambled to her feet, ignoring Fennic’s whimpers, and darted forward. “Lyra! Please! It’s me! Mireya!” she pleaded, her voice scraping raw in the sudden silence. “Don’t you recognize me?”
The fallen woman pushed herself up, her mutated face a mask of hate. Her good eye glowed, fixated on Mireya, not with recognition, but with an unholy hunger. The combat knife, scarred and familiar, lifted. It was the same scarred weapon Mireya knew from childhood. But the way she held it now, the way her arm trembled with malformed power, was utterly alien. She lunged, a feral cry tearing from her throat, not a human sound, but the shriek of a predator.
“No!” Mireya screamed, her hands coming up reflexively. Her rifle was still lost in the safehouse wreckage above.
Isken moved. There was no hesitation, no debate. His eyes met Mireya’s for a fraction of a second. He leveled his suppressed carbine, iron sights locking onto center mass. He knew the cost of this shot, the guilt it would brand onto his own soul. But better him than her. He squeezed the trigger.
The corrupted eye exploded inward under the slug. The body spasmed, then went limp, collapsing face-first onto the grimy platform as the blade clattered away. Mireya fell to her knees, staring at the motionless shape with hands pressed over her mouth.
[SYSTEM: Target neutralized. Hostile bio-signature ‘Chimera-Strain Alpha’ eradicated. Necrotic harvest initiated. Reward: ‘Loyal Guardian Protocol’ unlocked. New objective: Assimilate unique bio-memory. Proceed with resurrection.]
Isken ignored Mireya’s heartbroken cries, ignored Gavril’s surprised clatter. His mind locked onto the system’s message, a cold resolve settling in his chest. “Gavril, secure Mireya. Fennic, find that knife.”
He knelt beside the body, hands glowing with sickly green radioluminescence as he pressed his palms to her temples. Her eyes, one a milky orb, the other a shattered ruin, snapped open. Her limbs twitched, then slowly, agonizingly, she pushed herself up, a new light in her undead gaze – not malevolence, but a blank, unsettling loyalty. She turned her head, her ruined face lifting to meet Isken’s stare.
Her reanimated lips parted, a rasping whisper escaping. “Core… coordinates… 0-7-9-Delta-1-4-C-Eta… lowest level… the deep black.”