Supreme Disassemble: Rebuilding the World in the Iron Wastel

Chapter 7: The Sky is Falling

The sound of the Reaper Drone wasn't a roar; it was a high-frequency scream that vibrated in the very marrow of Suger’s bones. It sounded like a trillion angry hornets trapped in a lead box. These weren't the ground-pounding idiots from the bus. This was a scalpel from the Inner City, designed to excise "infections" from the map with surgical fire.

"Ten minutes ago, I was a happy scrapper with a working water purifier," Suger growled, wiping the dark blood from his upper lip. "Now, I’m the main attraction in a high-tech execution."

Technically, you're the side dish, the Voice chirped, its tone vibrating with a strange, jittery energy. Claire is the main course. But don't worry, the Reaper’s missiles don't discriminate based on nutritional value. They’ll turn both of you into the same pile of carbon ash.

"Mechanic, get to the cellar! Now!" Suger shouted, not waiting for an answer.

He grabbed Claire’s new chrome-plated hand, pulling her toward the back exit of the shop. Her grip was iron-strong now, the servos whining with a predator’s hunger.

"I can take it down," Claire rasped, her green eye tracking the sky through the holes in the rusted roof. "If I can get a clear shot at its sensor array, the rail-pistol will—"

"Forget it. That thing has a reactive energy shield that can tank a mini-nuke," Suger interrupted, his mind already spinning through a thousand blueprints. "We don't shoot it. We disassemble the very air it breathes."

They burst out into the alleyway. Above them, the Reaper Drone hung like a predatory insect, its black carbon-fiber wings silhouetted against the toxic orange moon. Its underbelly glowed with a sickly violet light as its targeting lasers swept across the slums, painting everything in a neon death-glare.

Target Locked, the Voice whispered.

Suger didn't run. Instead, he slammed his hands against the two massive support pillars of the mega-bridge that housed Slum Town. These weren't just piles of scrap; they were ancient, high-density alloy pillars from the Old World.

"System! Give me everything!" Suger roared.

[Skill Activated: Molecular Vibration & Structural Rupture]

A surge of blue electricity erupted from Suger’s palms, so intense that the hair on his arms began to singe. He wasn't trying to move the bridge—that would be suicide. He was looking for the flaw. Every piece of metal has a frequency at which it simply gives up.

Inside the pillars, the ancient bolts began to scream. Suger was forcing them to vibrate at a billion cycles per second.

The Reaper Drone sensed the massive energy spike. It tilted its wings, firing a volley of micro-missiles toward the alleyway. The projectiles trailed white smoke, screaming toward Suger with heat-seeking malice.

"Claire! The missiles! Don't let them hit the pillars!"

Claire didn't hesitate. Her new arm moved in a blur of polished chrome. She didn't fire the rail-pistol; she used the arm’s internal magnetic burst—a feature the Mechanic had just finished calibrating.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

She swatted the micro-missiles out of the air like they were annoying flies. They exploded prematurely, filling the alley with fire and black smoke, but the pillars remained intact.

"Almost... there..." Suger’s teeth were glowing blue from the sheer amount of energy flowing through his jaw.

Now! the Voice screamed.

Suger released the vibration. He didn't break the pillars; he disassembled the magnetic tension holding the rusted debris together on the bridge’s upper deck, directly above the drone.

Ten tons of compressed, ancient garbage—compacted by decades of gravity—didn't fall. It descended like the fist of a god.

The Reaper Drone tried to dodge, its thrusters flaring with violet flame. But Suger had timed it perfectly. As the junk fell, he used his last bit of strength to "thread" the metal scraps, turning the falling debris into a dense, interlocking net of iron and lead.

The drone’s energy shield flared bright white as the first few tons of scrap hit it. It held for a split second, then the sheer physical weight—the raw, unrefined mass of the wasteland—crushed it. The "surgical scalpel" of the Inner City was slammed into the muddy ground by ten tons of its own ancestors’ trash.

A massive explosion of violet sparks and black oil followed. The drone’s core went critical, sending a shockwave that shattered every window within three blocks.

Suger fell to his knees, his lungs burning as he gasped for air that tasted like burnt copper. He looked at his hands; they were shaking so hard he couldn't even make a fist.

[Notification: Reaper Drone Disassembled (Physical Compression). XP Gained: God-like. Leveling up... Level 9 reached!]

[New Blueprint Unlocked: Valkyrie-Class Nano-Armor Synthesis]

"You... you just dropped a bridge on a drone," Claire said, walking over to him. She looked down at the smoldering wreckage, then back at the scrapper who looked like he was about to vomit. "That was the most inefficient, brilliant, and utterly stupid thing I’ve ever seen."

"Thanks," Suger wheezed, finally managing a weak, blood-stained grin. "It's my specialty."

He looked toward the Inner City, where the skyline was still glowing with a cold, uncaring light. They had won this round, but the Reaper wasn't the end. It was an alarm clock.

"We need to go, Claire," Suger said, pushing himself up. "The next thing they send won't have wings. It'll have an army."

And Suger? the Voice added, sounding unusually quiet. You might want to look at your level-up rewards. You didn't just get armor. You got a key.

Suger pulled up the glowing blue interface one last time before the exhaustion took him. In the center of the screen, a single icon flickered: a map of the Inner City’s main power grid.

The scavenger wasn't just surviving anymore. He was planning a home invasion