Brotherhood of the Last Shelter

The Tagged Steel

The line went dead.

I lowered the phone and stared at the dark screen. Donald and Luggard waited for me to speak, but the system alert floating in front of my eyes demanded my attention.

System Alert: Shelter Level 1 Stabilized.

Current Inhabitants: 3/3.

Shelter Perk Unlocked: Structural Reinforcement Buff (+15% resistance to physical blunt force).

Side Mission Triggered: Clear the Upper Access.

Objective: Neutralize the trapped anomaly at the entrance gate.

Time Remaining: 04:12:00.

Failure Penalty: Structural signal beacon will broadcast base location to nearby hostiles.

I read the last line twice.

The system had just rewarded us for reinforcing our shelter, then threatened to expose our location if we refused to kill the creature outside. Whatever intelligence controlled it, that intelligence understood exactly how to pressure me.

"What's wrong?" Donald asked.

"The system wants us to kill the hound before the timer expires. If we don't, it'll broadcast our location to every hostile nearby."

Donald picked up his wrench. "Then we kill it before the four hours are up."

"You make it sound easy," Luggard said. "That thing nearly tore through the gate. What happens when we get close enough for it to reach us?"

"We don't give it the chance," Donald replied. "Everything mechanical has a weakness. We just haven't found that one's yet."

I watched my younger brother inspect the tools scattered across the floor. In my previous life, I had spent so much time trying to protect Donald that I never allowed him to help. I thought keeping him away from danger would keep him alive. Instead, I had robbed him of the chance to prepare for it.

This time, I would trust what he could do.

"You're right," I told him. "We'll find its weakness together."

Luggard folded his arms. "And what exactly am I supposed to do while you two experiment on a machine that wants to eat us?"

"Keep watch and help us retreat if things go wrong."

"Wonderful. I get to be the one who watches you both get torn apart."

"You're also the one who knows these tunnels better than either of us," I reminded him. "If the stairs collapse or we need another way out, we're depending on you."

His expression changed. He still looked worried, but he stopped complaining and reached for his flashlight.

I opened my inventory and removed the manual cutting torch and its oxygen-acetylene cylinder. The equipment landed heavily on the concrete.

Donald crouched beside it, checking the connections.

"This might work," he said. "If the cables are exposed, I can cut through them. But I need time, and I need that thing to stay still."

"We'll give you both."

"James," Luggard said quietly, "you keep saying we can handle this. How do you know?"

I looked at him. I couldn't tell him everything I had seen in my previous life, not when even I didn't understand why I had been sent back.

"I don't know that we can," I admitted. "I know what happens if we do nothing."

That was enough to make him nod.

We secured the inner crossbar behind us and climbed the broken stairs. The air grew colder as we approached the entrance. A faint smell of burnt oil hung in the tunnel, mixed with the sharp scent of ozone.

Then we heard the creature.

Its claws scraped against concrete, followed by a steady clicking sound from somewhere inside its body.

Donald raised his hand, signaling us to stop.

The iron gate still pinned the hound near the entrance, but the concrete beneath it was badly gouged. Its red eyes shifted from side to side, searching for movement.

Donald crouched and directed his flashlight toward the machine's rear legs.

"There," he whispered.

Between two armor plates, thick blue cables ran from its spine into a metal cylinder that pulsed with a faint red glow.

"That looks like its power core," he said. "If those cables supply the main circuit, cutting them might shut the whole thing down."

"Might?" Luggard whispered.

Donald gave him a brief look. "Unless you'd prefer to ask it politely."

"Just do your work."

I almost smiled, but the creature's sudden movement killed the thought.

Its eyes flashed brighter.

The hound turned toward us so quickly that its metal neck struck the gate with a deafening clang. It began thrashing, scraping its claws against the floor.

"Back up," I ordered.

We retreated one step, but the creature did something I hadn't expected.

It deliberately twisted its trapped front leg until the metal joint snapped.

The limb folded at an unnatural angle. Using the broken joint to change its position, the hound dragged its body sideways beneath the gate. Armor scraped against iron, sending sparks across the floor.

"Move!" Donald shouted.

The gate shifted.

I grabbed the oxygen cylinder while Luggard pulled Donald away from the creature's snapping jaws. The hound forced its mangled body through the opening and crashed onto the stairs below us.

For a moment, it lay motionless.

Then its remaining legs unfolded.

It climbed toward us, dragging the broken limb behind it. The red light inside its spine pulsed faster, and the clicking grew into a high-pitched whine.

Donald stumbled backward. "That thing just destroyed its own leg to escape!"

"It doesn't care about damage," I said. "It only cares about reaching us."

The hound lunged.

I shoved the cylinder toward Donald and pulled Luggard behind a concrete pillar. The creature's claws struck the wall where we had been standing, breaking away a chunk of masonry.

Donald rolled beneath a damaged handrail. The cutting torch slipped from his grip and skidded across the steps.

"Donald!" I shouted.

"I'm fine!"

He reached for the torch just as the hound turned toward him.

I had seconds to act. The stairwell was too narrow to dodge, and the creature had already blocked our way back to the shelter.

Then I noticed the broken front leg dragging against the metal handrail.

Every time the hound moved, the exposed joint caught on the railing and sent a brief shower of sparks across its armor.

The damage was slowing it down.

"Donald, forget the cables!" I shouted. "Cut through the damaged joint!"

He looked at the exposed metal, then at the approaching creature.

"I'll need it to hold still!"

"I'll make it hold still."

The system's countdown flashed at the edge of my vision.

Time Remaining: 03:47:26.

I stepped out from behind the pillar and struck the iron gate with my metal pipe.

The hound's red eyes snapped toward me.

"Come on," I shouted. "You wanted us. Here we are."

It charged.

I barely threw myself aside as its claws smashed into the railing. The damaged leg caught again, trapping the machine for a fraction of a second.

That was all Donald needed.

He ignited the cutting torch and drove the flame against the exposed joint.

The hound released a shriek that rattled the windows above us. Its body jerked violently, and the red light inside its spine turned white.

"Donald, get back!" I yelled.

He released the torch and scrambled away.

The machine went still.

For one hopeful second, I thought we had won.

Then the system flashed a new warning across my vision.

Warning: Anomaly power core destabilizing.

Estimated overload: 00:00:30.

The creature's head slowly turned toward me.

Its red eyes were gone, replaced by a blinding white light.

And somewhere beneath the street, something answered its call.